“What message?”
I have a choice to make here. I’m not sure if I make the right one. “That’s none of your business.”
Liam’s eyes flash. “Is he why you’re avoiding me?”
I smile sweetly. “No. That would be all you. I just don’t feel compelled to be in your presence.”
Okay. I’ve successfully flipped the switch into ruthlessness. It’s hard to believe, but up until I found out about my engagement, I typically kept my cattiness in check. Sure, I regularly think all sorts of sarcastic things. In my head. Yet, if I want Liam to find a way to convince Rowan and his father to call off this engagement, I need him to want to get rid of me. I may have forgotten that for a moment when he was all up in my personal space the other day, but it’s amazing what clarity a little distance will bring.
“Did something happen since Monday?” He is looking at me as if he’s never seen me before.
“I don’t know,” I spit. “Did it? Because as far as I know, I’m still forced to wear this ridiculous engagement ring.” I shove my left hand in his face.
“I agree. It does pale to your beauty.”
“I’d tell you to go fuck yourself,” I snarl, “but you’d probably enjoy that.”
His jaw ticks. His nostrils flare. And, then he does something that shocks the hell out of me. He smiles. Fucking smiles his perfect toothy grin.
“There’s a dinner at Titus tomorrow night. Starts at eight. What time should I pick you up?” he asks happily.
What? That’s it? I’m being a shrieking harpy, and he drops this in my lap? He still wants to go out with me? When I’m acting like this? Nobody is this nice.
“There will be a few of Rowan’s men, a few of my father’s. It would be helpful if we showed up. If everyone could see that we’re good. That everything is on track.” He keeps going. “Ya know, I don’t eat out too much. I’m afraid I eat too frequently to go out all the time. That shit would get expensive.” He laughs at himself. He’s laughing! “But, Titus has the best steaks. They even make colcannon.”
Titus is an exclusive club in the city. It’s a safe place where the various corrupt factions can meet. Different mobs. Different businesses. There’s a strict no violence policy on its premises. No one would break the rules there and risk getting banned. It’s a stuffy, old dinner club that is meant for the morally bankrupt, and Liam mostly seems concerned about what type of food they serve. Irish mashed potatoes apparently.
“What is happening right now?” I breathe.
“We have a date tomorrow night.” He smiles in response. “That’s what people who are engaged do. Go on dates. Seeonlyeach other. Since you’ve been too busy”—he nods at my notebook—“to answer my texts or calls, I thought I’d deliver the news in person, since fate brought us together today.”
My mouth drops open but no words come out.
“Great. I can swing by your place around seven.” Jesus Christ, he’s still smiling. “No, wait—make it six. I don’t want to wait that long to see you. We can have a drink before dinner.” I’m still staring at his stupid, handsome face when he continues. “Have you been to Titus? It’s cocktail attire, so you can wear a dress. Or not. Totally up to you.” He nods, seemingly satisfied with himself.
“Tomorrow night?” I repeat back to him dumbly.
“Terrific!” He almost shouts the word as he jumps up from his seat.
He moves around to my side of the table to sandwich himself between my legs. His hands caress my hips as he presses his lips to mine softly. He pulls back and I whimper. Christ.
“I’m looking forward to spending time with you, beauty. Maybe if you get to know me, you won’t want to push me away.” So, he’s on to me. His mischievous smile pops one of his dimples and he looks fucking adorable. “Don’t work too hard.” He raps his knuckles against my notebook, kisses my forehead, and then saunters away.
I watch him leave. A few people call out greetings as he goes. As usual, he smiles and waves to his fans. Through all my goal setting, weighing pros and cons, I didn’t plan on Liam. I may be in trouble.
LIAM
As I walk into Titus with Taryn on my arm, I realize—too late—that I should never have told her that I like her in green. I try to surreptitiously adjust myself as we offer our coats to the valet. She looks amazing in a bright jade dress. I swear to God, her legs are a mile long in this getup. She has to be wearing it just to fuck with me. She looks like she belongs on a pedestal, and I swear to Christ, at some point, I’ll find a way to pull her off it to make her mine.
She ignored me the entire week. Didn’t answer a single text. Wasn’t in any of the places I looked for her. It was only because I’ve turned into a fucking stalker that I found her in the coffeehouse. I sat outside her townhouse and followed her into campus yesterday, but got sidetracked when some girl “accidentally” ran into me before I could join Taryn inside. I had to help the clumsy chick pick up all her books, lipsticks, and a package of condoms before I could go find the redheaded siren whose song I’ve been dancing to since our engagement became final.
“This place is ridiculous,” Taryn grouses, turning to me. She’s taking in her plush surroundings. Dark wood. Deep hues. The smell of expensive perfume, cognac, and wealth.
“You haven’t been here before?” Hell, I’ve only been in New York for college, and I’ve already been here three, maybe four, times.
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t like to associate with these types of people.”
I tilt my head back and laugh. “Honestly, beauty, while the feral princess act looks fucking fantastic on you, you might want to rein it in a little.”
