He waves a hand dismissively, like we’re discussing rescheduling a dentist appointment rather than legally binding ourselves to each other. “My guy can sort it. We just have to survive dinner.”
His guy? He has a fixer? Am I being stupid getting in bed—so to speak—with a man I know nothing about? Lila is cool, I repeatto myself. An almost doctor. She wouldn’t be friends with Liam if he were too shady.
Even the mob has doctors, a voice retorts in my head.
Liam starts pacing, still limping, rattling off a to-do list.
“I’ll have my lawyer reach out to your parents within the hour. We’ll countersue your ex before he finishes his lunch.”
“Countersue for what?”
“For causing you enough distress to flee your wedding. You must’ve had a good reason, I assume?”
The way he keeps pinning me down with his gaze as if he can see straight into my soul is unnerving. I look away as I reply, “I did.”
“Great. Well, not great, obviously. But we can use it. We’ll paint him as the villain. We don’t have to win a court case; we only need to make it so expensive and humiliating for him that he drops the lawsuit against you and your family.”
I nod, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. He sounds so confident. So capable. All this competence is kind of seductive. The determination, too.
“What’s your parents’ number?” Liam barrels on. “Is it better if I talk to your mom or your dad?”
“Hang on.” I hold up a hand. “I need to explain the new husband with the fancy lawyers to them first. They don’t even know you exist.”
He pauses, thumb hovering over his screen. “If you’re not in a hurry, let’s push it to tomorrow. Lawsuits don’t move this fast anyway. But if you could ask your parents to forward the papers they’ve been served, my lawyers will get started on a strategy.”
“I’ll ask my dad.” My head swims with the speed at which things are moving.
“Perfect. Do you have any documents with you? We’ll need them for the marriage license.”
“I have a photo on my phone, but the originals and everything else are back at Matt’s house.”
Liam nods, pensive. “I’ll send my guy to get what you need.”
“You sound like a mafia boss now.”
He smirks up at me. “I like to be prepared. This is my number.” He lists off digits, barely giving me time to type them into a new contact. “Text me the address and a list.”
“Can your guy grab anything?” I ask, a petty thought blooming in my mind like a dark flower.
“Why? Should he get a U-Haul? Do you have a bunch of stuff that needs moving?”
“No heavy furniture. But I have my clothes at his place and a bunch of kitchen stuff. But he has this fancy European wine opener that took forever to import,” I say, shoving the phone in the robe’s pocket. “He doesn’t know how to use a regular one. I want it.”
Liam stares at me for a beat, and then a wicked delight sparks in his eyes.
“We are taking the wine opener,” he agrees. “Anything else? The espresso machine? The dog?”
“We didn’t have a dog. Just my clothes, my other stuff, and the opener. Oh, and my laptop if Matt hasn’t destroyed it with a hammer already. And my car.”
“Consider it done.” He moves toward the door, then stops. His hand goes to the back of his neck, and he does something completely unexpected.
Liam Rockwood blushes.
It starts at his collar and creeps up to his ears, a faint pink he can’t seem to control.
“I’ll leave you to get changed,” he says, not meeting my eyes. “I picked out a few options. The resort boutique had a decent selection, but—” He clears his throat. “They didn’t have any underwear. I bought you a bikini. For, you know, underneath.”
He says this to the floor.
