Killian grabs a chair from behind his desk and drags it over to the front of Liam’s. “Please, have a seat, Attorney Snow.”
The man who now holds my life in his hands settles into it, crosses an ankle over his knee, and pulls out a legal pad and pen from his briefcase. “So”—he glances around the room—“Bill tells me that you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of trouble.”
I can’t help the snort that comes out at his description of my predicament, and I shake my head. “‘A little’ would be an understatement.”
Liam pushes to his feet and moves behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders and offering me his strength the only way he can right now without me physically sitting on his lap and allowing him to hold me.
Snow gives me a tight smile. “Well, I’ve already heard bits and pieces from Bill that were apparently relayed to him previously, but in order to really get an assessment of how we will proceed with this, I need to hear the full story from you directly.”
Which is exactly what I have been dreading since Killian first came up with this idea.
I understand the situation I’m in and that no attorney will ever be able to negotiate any kind of deal on my behalf if they don’t know what they’re working with, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
Liam squeezes my shoulder, and Killian and Connor offer me reassuring looks from where they lean against the wall behind Attorney Snow, watching and waiting for me to proceed.
Coming clean to Liam and telling him everything was hard enough, but now having to do it in front of his brothers and a total stranger is pure agony.
I draw in a long inhale and release it, squeezing my eyes closed as I brace myself for the judgment I know is coming.
You can do this.
One more time.
“It started a year ago…”
I open my eyes to Snow nodding, jotting something down on his notepad before he glances up expectantly, waiting for me to continue.
“I was in Colombia, South Carolina, and I met a man named Brad.”
One of his dark brows rises. “Last name?”
“The one he gave me was Ryan. Bradley Ryan.”
Attorney Snow’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, and he scribbles on the paper. “Where did you meet?”
“He came into a retail shop where I was working for a while—a small clothing store. Mom and pop type place. We chatted for a bit, and he asked me to join him for lunch. It was all very organic.” A little mirthless laugh slips from my lips. “Or so I thought.”
That volatile mix of embarrassment and anger that always surges through me when I think about how easily I was deceived comes back full-force, and I tighten my hands into fists on my lap.
It was all a game.
It was all one giant fucking game to him.
And I lost.
I release a shaky breath, refusing to give in to the burn of tears. “He always seemed to have a lot of money, which I attributed to the fact that he told me he was an investment consultant. He drove a nice car, had classy clothes, a great watch, and he was sweet, funny. Attentive.” My throat tightens. “He showered me with attention, and I let him…”
Because I was an idiot.
As someone who spent their entire life having to read people, having to be able to see what someone’s true intentions were so I could protect myself or my foster siblings from them, the way I so easily fell for Brad’s level of bullshit is mortifying.
Was I that lonely?
That desperate?
I find myself glancing back at Liam.
Because I need to see him. I need to see if anything in his gaze alters when he hears this again. I need to witness the moment I lose him, which is still hard to imagine won’t happen. But his reassurances that nothing will ever change echo through my chest and remain shining in his eyes, urging me to continue.
