The bellhop fled immediately, clearly uncomfortable with whatever he'd been bribed or threatened into doing.
Kate's eyes swept the suite, and finding Libby alone, she smiled.
"Ms. Bennet-Cross," Kate said, not bothering with pleasantries.
"Mrs. Davenport," Libby stood, immediately wary. "Liam is?—"
"I'm aware." Kate cut her off, settling onto the sofa as if she owned it.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Libby asked, not sitting down.
"What game are you playing?" Kate's directness was startling. "This fake relationship, sharing his hotel room—what's your angle?"
"I don't have an angle?—"
"Everyone has an angle. Especially when they're this far out of their depth." Kate's eyes were arctic. "The photograph I took should have sent you crawling back to your little local paper. Instead, you somehow convinced Liam to play along with this charade. How?"
"I didn't convince him of anything?—"
"Please. Liam doesn't sacrifice his privacy on a whim. You manipulated him somehow—played the victim, made him feel responsible." Kate leaned forward. "What did you say? That your career would be over? That you needed saving?"
"There was no scandal until you created one," Libby said evenly.
"I exposed what was already inappropriate. A journalist drinking with her subject, hanging off him at a charity event." Kate's tone dripped disdain. "Though I suppose for someone from your background, such behavior seems acceptable."
"My background?"
"Small-town nobody with delusions of grandeur." Kate's smile was cold. "I've done my research, Ms. Bennet-Cross. Your father teaches at a community college. Your mother spends her days obsessively refreshing gossip pages. You covered minor league hockey from the cheapest seats. What could you possibly offer someone like Liam?"
"Maybe he doesn't need me to offer him anything," Libby replied. "Maybe he's capable of making his own choices. He's my friend."
As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized they were true. Or at least, she wanted them to be true. Somewhere between the charity gala disaster and this moment, Liam hadbecome someone she genuinely cared about. Someone she felt protective of.
Looking at Kate—with her calculated cruelty and suffocating expectations—Libby felt a wave of exhaustion on Liam's behalf. If this was the kind of "family" he had to navigate, no wonder he was so controlled. She'd assumed his life was all privilege and ease, but if Kate represented the people closest to him, then Liam had been fighting his own battles long before Libby showed up.
"Friend," Kate repeated, her tone making it sound absurd. "Oh, I think not."
She leaned back, studying Libby with calculating eyes. "Liam has always had a soft spot for charity cases. The youth hockey program in Dorchester. Georgia after her breakdown. That teammate—Mitchell?—with the gambling problem last year. Now you, the poor little journalist he needs to rescue from big bad media scandal." She smiled coldly. "It's not affection, dear. It's compulsion. He needs to feel like the savior because he couldn't save Georgia when it mattered."
"You don't know him as well as you think," Libby said quietly.
"I've known him since he was born. I know he values control above connection, duty above desire. This performance you're both giving? He's quite good at it. But when playoffs end, when the media attention fades, you'll find yourself back in Springfield wondering if any of it was real."
Kate moved toward the door, then paused. "Anne asked me to check on him. They've been texting quite frequently. She's concerned about this... situation. They have such a lovely understanding—both from the same world, same expectations. No need for elaborate charades or fake relationships."
"If they're so perfect together, why isn't he with her?"
"Anne's been in Paris for the past year. Fashion internship—very prestigious." Kate's tone suggested this was far moreworthy than sports journalism. "She's returning next month. Liam has been quite patient, waiting for her to finish pursuing her little interests."
"Little interests," Libby repeated. "In Paris."
"A year abroad to get it out of her system before settling down to real responsibilities." Kate's smile was pitying. "In the meantime, Liam needs to prove he's not like every other D'Arcy. Needs to rebel against expectations. You're not a love interest, dear. You're a rebellion. And rebellions, by nature, are temporary."
After she left, Libby stood frozen. Kate had leaked the photo to destroy her, and Liam had—what? Felt guilty? Felt responsible? Created this entire elaborate lie not because he cared but because he needed to play savior?
"Hey," Liam's voice from the doorway made her turn. "Security just called. They said Kate was here?"
"She just left," Libby said, trying to keep her voice neutral. "She was checking on you."
