Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
He looks back at me sadly. “Like he doesn’t own you?”
I want to argue, but he’s got a point. I pull my knees up, feeling deflated, because the truth is even worse than I realized. When it was Luke getting in trouble, that made a kind of sense. I felt like I could talk him out of it, convince him to back off for his own good.
But if Luke’s falling deeper into the family business because of Dad’s pressure…
I’d be a hypocrite if I tried to pretend like I’d do anything differently.
“I’m here for you, you know.”
He stands with a grunt. “Don’t worry about me. You’re the one stuck with Liam Lankshear.” He tries to smile but there’s no joy in it. “Seriously though, if you ever need anything, if Liam’s less than a perfect gentleman—“
“You’ll be my first call.”
“Make sure I am. I mean it too, Regan. I know the Whelans would never willingly put you in a bad spot, but Lankshear’s got a reputation.”
I glance back toward the bedroom and the memory of his arms wrapped around my body floods back. His warmth, his comfort, the way he didn’t speak but let his body do the work.
“Yeah, I’ve heard about it.”
“Be careful, that’s all.” Luke heads over to the refrigerator, grabs a beer, cracks it open, and drinks it down. “I’m sure your husband won’t mind, right?”
“That was mine.”
He laughs, genuinely this time, and waves before he leaves me alone.
I sit surrounded by the mess of my life and sink into my thoughts.
Luke’s as trapped as I am. I should’ve seen it sooner. The realization breaks my heart. I failed him so thoroughly, so horribly, that I didn’t even notice until he spelled it out for me. I couldn’t protect him from Dad, and I sure as hell can’t protect him from the Whelans and the Russians. I shiver, and I feel like I can taste blood on my tongue again.
I spend the day unpacking. My husband is nowhere to be found.
Which is normal, it turns out. Liam doesn’t seem to sleep much. He comes and goes as he pleases and has been distant since that night. I’m not sure how I feel about that. In some ways, this is the marriage I hoped for: he leaves me alone and I don’t bother with him. We get on with our lives, existing like roommates who shared one (okay, two) intimate moments, but nothing more.
It nags at me though. I wish he were around more. I want to talk to him about what happened, to understand who those men were and what they wanted, and most of all, to find out whether it’ll happen again or not. I think they had something to do with Kieren and the Russians, only I can’t say for sure, because Liam’s not around to tell me.
Eventually I’m tired and frustrated. I decide to call it for the evening and head out to get some groceries. The apartment is pathetic when it comes to food. I’m not sure how Liam survives on beer and cheese while still retaining his impressive physique.
Bastard probably has perfect genes.
I make it to the lobby before I’m stopped. He appears out of nowhere, swooping in through the front door, eyes scanning the space and stopping on me, brows knitting. He comes straight over and grabs me by the arm.
“What are you doing down here?” Liam says, an edge to his voice. His eyes are cold and quiet. If there was anything warm and good between us that night after the wedding, it’s sure as hell gone now.
“Uh, first of all, get the hell off me.” I shake myself loose. “And second, I’m going to the store. You realize you have no food in the house, right?"
“Get delivery.”
“No, I want to cook.”
“Nobody wants to cook. Food is fuel. Order something.”
“Actually, cooking takes my mind off all the other crap in my life—“ I gesture at him emphatically. “Now stop being a prick.”
He glares at me. I glare right back. I have no idea why we’re having a fight about grocery shopping like this is somehow against an unspoken rule. After a few beats, he grunts and steps aside.
“Let’s make this fast.”
I walk past and he falls in beside me. “Sorry, I don’t think you were invited.”
“I’m escorting my wife.”
“You’re annoying her even more.”
“It’s not safe out there, Regan.” His eyes burn death into me. I taste metal and smell smoke. “Don’t fight me on this.”
“You can’t keep using the shooting as an excuse to be a controlling bastard forever.”
“You’d be surprised what I can do.”
Damn it, this is frustrating. I could stand here and make a scene, but that won’t get me anywhere, and I'm getting hungry. With no better options, I decide my best bet is to pretend like Liam’s not here at all.