“What are they doing?” I asked a few hours later as I stared out the window of the jet. The plane had touched down in Los Angeles just a few moments before, and we’d been sitting on the runway, waiting to deplane.

Now a grey pickup truck was racing across the tarmac, and two men dressed in gray and orange overalls jumped out. They started to pull out what looked like a long piece of black nylon and move it toward the plane.

Liam looked up from his iPad.

He’d been quiet on the flight, in business mode, working on something that seemed extremely important, what with the way he’d been barking orders into the phone and firing off what seemed like sternly worded emails.

We hadn’t said a word to each other, except for when I told him that if he kept pounding on his computer like that, he was going to break the keys. This was met with a glare and then silence.

So I’d started to read one of the books I’d found on the plane, but I couldn’t keep my mind on it. I was distracted. Reading usually provided an escape for me, a way to get away from whatever was going on in my life, but I couldn’t focus on anything.

My thoughts were racing through everything that had happened over the past few hours.

My fight with Maddie.

How Jodi Benson had seen Liam push me into the back of his car.

What Liam had done to me in that bad.

What it was about Vienna that had caused him to need to do that.

I studied him now as he looked out the window.

“They’re bringing a tunnel out,” he said, and we both watched as a sleek black stretch limo pulled up in front of the tunnel. The men in overalls got to work setting up the black nylon -- which, sure enough, now formed a tunnel -- in front of the door to the limo.

“For what?”

“So that when we walk down the stairs of the jet, we’ll be able to get into the limo without the paparazzi being able to get pictures.”

He pointed over to the far side of the airfield, where a loose gaggle of photographers stood on the other side of a chain link fence.

I remembered what Tevi and Marnie had said to me back in New York, that photographers lingered around the areas where the private jets landed, hoping to get picture of someone famous.

I was grateful as I walked down the tunnel and climbed into the limo that there would be no pictures of me splashed across the pages of gossip magazines or websites.

Once we were in the limo, Liam reached for his laptop, but I stopped him.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“To visit my parents.”

“I know that,” I said, frustrated. “I mean where are we going specifically right now? To their house?”

“No. We are going to the Palm Bay Yacht and Golf Club.” He offered no other information as he began to power up his computer. The last thing I wanted was him buried in work again, ignoring me as we drove.

“What will we do there?” I pressed.

“We’re staying there,” he said. “This morning we’ll golf with my parents.”

“Wait,” I said, shaking my head. “We’re going golfing?”

“Yes, Emery. We’re going golfing.”

“I’ve never golfed before.” It seemed silly that with everything else going on this would be something I would worry about, but I was worried about it.

Liam glanced at me, raising his eyebrows, surprise passing over his handsome features. I realized in his world, the fact that someone might never have golfed before would never cross his mind.

“How is that possible?” he asked.

“I mean, of course I’ve been mini-golfing before. It’s not like that, is it?”

“No, Emery,” he said, a smile tugging on his lips. “It’s not like that.” He shut his computer and slid close to me on the seat. I inhaled his scent, his clean laundry soap, the mild notes of his aftershave, his musky shampoo. He was dressed casually in a olive t-shirt and a pair of jeans, his hair slightly mussed. He looked nothing like the buttoned-up billionaire mogul that he presented to the world, but more like a hot and sexy California casual model. He reached past me, his forearm brushing against the curve of my breast as he grabbed for the seatbelt and pulled it onto me, sliding it across my lap and buckling it.

“No one wears a seatbelt in a limo,” I protested.

“I need to keep you safe.” He pushed my hair off my face and stared into my eyes. “What did Maddie say?” he asked softly.

I blinked for a second longer than usual, a lump forming in my throat as I remembered my conversation with Maddie. “She wasn’t happy,” I said.

“I imagine.”

“She’s just worried about me.” I took in a deep breath, my next words coming out in a rush. “And there’s something else. One of our classmates, this girl named Jodi Benson, saw you pushing me into your car the other night.”

I expected some kind of reaction. Fear, nervousness, anxiety, frenzied phone calls to high-powered lawyers. But I should have known better. Instead, Liam just shrugged. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about that.”

“What if she calls the police?”

“Then I’ll probably be arrested.” He shrugged again, like being arrested for kidnapping was no big deal instead of a felony that could lead to decades in jail.

“Liam!”

“What? I’m guilty, aren’t I?”

“No. I mean, yes, but…” I felt a lump in my throat as tears pricked the back of my eyes, hating myself for the confusion that swirled through me. Liam was right. He’d kidnapped me. How could I want to be with him? Was I insane?

Seeing that I was upset, he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting in equal parts concern and concentration. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s just like you said. If she’s going to say something, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“What about Maddie?” Liam said. “What if I meet her when we get back to New York? A dinner? For all three of us, anywhere you want.”

“Really? You’d…I mean, you’re willing to meet her?”

“Of course I want to meet her.” His words were forceful, but his tone not so much. He reached his hand out and took mine, his fingers intertwining us together. “Isn’t that what couples do?” He sounded almost unsure if it was what couples do, as if he were asking me if what he was saying was right.

“Yes,” I said, loving the way it sounded on his lips, that we were a couple, that we were together. “Have you ever met a girlfriend’s friends before?” I asked.

“No.” He shook his head and pulled away from me, pulling a bottle of water out from the tiny compartment on the side of the door. He took a long sip. “Not unless you count Vienna.”

* * *

So.

That settled it.

They’d been together.

Of course I’d known this.

All the signs were there. London Banks being jealous of her. The way Vienna Had been talking to Liam last night. You didn’t inspire those kind of reactions or conversations with someone who you didn’t have a romantic history with.

But to hear come right out of his mouth, to hear her name on his lips, was something else entirely.

I wanted to press him, wanted to ask how long they’d been together, why they’d broken up, if she wanted him back and that was why she’d come to see him last night. But as soon as Liam had made the revelation, he’d stayed true to form and retreated again, opening his computer and resuming his heavy typing, rolling more calls, his voice hard and steely as he ordered people around and worked on deals worth more money than I’d probably make in my entire lifetime, let alone in one transaction.

I tried to relax, to stare out the window and watch as California flew by – tried to appreciate the palm trees, the clean lines of the architecture, everything so light and bright and clean, unlike New York, where everything seemed dark and heavy.

But I couldn’t help thinking about the two of them.

Vienna wrapped around him, her long legs encasing his waist.

Liam kissing her the way he kissed me.

His hands moving on her body.

How different she must feel from me, her limbs long and taut, her stomach flat, her breasts the perfect size.

I wanted more than anything to google her, to see if there was anything I could find out about her and the relationship she’d had with Liam. But I knew that would be unacceptable. Yes, I had my phone back, but Liam would have access to anything I looked at, and I knew that googling him and Vienna would earn me a punishment even worse than what he’d done to me the night before.

The limo pulled up in front of the Palm Bay Yacht and Golf Club, and the driver opened the door for Liam, who in turn stepped out and held his hand out to me, guiding me out of the car.

As soon as I stepped out, everything came into focus, sharp and bright, a startling contrast from seeing everything through the tinted windows of the limo. The sky was a beautiful blue, the air crisp with the scent of saltwater, the soft swishing of the palm trees adding to the feel of summer and sand and fun.

The club itself was ornate and impressive, a massive clean white building that was designed to look like a cross between an old school Southern mansion and a modern, elegant hotel. Huge pillars flocked the entrance, and the entire lobby was made of glass, so that you could see all the way out through the other side of the club, where sunlight sparkled and danced off the ocean.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

“Yes, it is.” Liam’s gaze slid up and down my body, and my cheeks warmed under the attention. I was dressed casually in a pair of black yoga pants and a long-sleeved gray t-shirt, my hair scraped back into a ponytail. “But not as beautiful as you,” he whispered in my ear. His hand encircled my waist and slid up to the small of my back as he kissed me softly.

A porter appeared seemingly from nowhere, whisking us into the hotel, which was even more impressive inside, with the massive ocean views to the north and the rolling hills of the golf course to the south.

“Checking into the executive suite,” Liam told the woman at the front desk, and a moment later, we were being handed a key card and stepping into a private elevator which zoomed us up to the top of the club.

The doors opened out directly into our suite, which took up the whole floor and was decorated all in white.

White linens, billowy white curtains, a white braided throw rug in front of a white stone fireplace. The only touches of color were the rustic gray wood floors, and a huge green blue stone vase that stood in the middle of the room.

There was a full kitchen with white marble countertops, and a sitting room with upholstered white furniture. The tops of the end tables matched the white marble of the kitchen, and magazines and books were placed artistically around the room, all of them with white covers and spines.

Liam moved to the back of the suite and opened the sliding doors, which gave us a sweeping view of the ocean before us. Steps led down from the balcony to a private stone patio, with an infinity pool and a hot tub.

“Jesus,” I murmured. I’d never even conceived of such a place, much less expected to be staying at one.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Liam said, as if he were studying an abstract painting in a museum.

“Nice? It’s amazing.” I turned to look at him and realized he was watching me, and not the view. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “I just like watching you experience things for the first time.”

“Don’t tell me you’re used to this.”

He shrugged again.

“How? I mean, it’s breathtaking.” The ocean breeze began to move through the suite through the open doors, fluttering the curtains and deepening the sensory experience.

“It’s not a matter of getting used to something, Emery. It’s a matter of knowing that beautiful things don’t necessarily change one’s circumstances.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, frowning at the way he talked in half-cloaked rhetoric and dark phrases.

He shook his head. “I’m going to go work out before tee time.”

“Tee time?”

“Yes.” He moved close to me and pressed his lips to my forehead. “That’s what they call it when you tee off on the golf course.”

I swallowed. “And your parents will be there?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Your mother and your father?”

“That’s usually what one is talking about when the words ‘parents’ are involved, yes,” he said, sounding amused as he lowered his mouth to the spot right beneath my ear.

His lips felt amazing on my skin and I felt my body immediately begin to melt into his, my hips tilting in toward him, my skin flushing, my pulse leaping. How could this be bad? How could this feeling that he drew out of me be bad? How could a man who made me feel this way be bad?

“What will I wear golfing?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “You’ll golf naked.”

“I’m serious.”

“There are golf clothes in your bag.”

“Okay.” I swallowed as he pushed my hair back from my neck slowly. A strong breeze kicked up from the ocean right at that moment, and skated over my skin, cooling it before Liam’s warm lips brushed against the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck.

“And will I … will there be hair and makeup?” I asked, trying my best to hold onto my composure, to not moan in the middle of a conversation.

“Tevi and Marnie are in the hotel and on call,” he said, grabbing my hips and pulling me against his torso.

The blood rushed between my legs as I felt how hard his cock was.

“But you look so gorgeous like this,” he said. “Just natural. Exactly how you looked that first night I met you.”

He titled his pelvis further into mine, and now his hands were skating under the waistband of my pants, and he began to tug them down a tiny bit in the back.

“Liam,” I said, reaching for his hands. I knew no one could see us all the way up here, but I couldn’t be sure. The beach below us was dotted with brightly colored umbrellas and people walking hand-in-hand along the shore. They were far enough away that I was almost sure they couldn’t see us, but still.

“I say when,” he reminded me, removing my hands from his and placing them on the railing. “I say how. And I say where.”

He tugged my pants down further. The material was soft but my ass was still sore from the spanking he’d given me yesterday, not to mention the fucking, and I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth as pain sparked and burned inside of me.

“Does it still hurt?” he whispered.

I nodded. “A little.”

“Good.”

His words along with his devilish look on his face made me moan.

He went to lower his mouth to mine, but just as his lips brushed against me, a vibrating noise came from his pocket.

He stepped away from me and pulled out his phone. I caught a glimpse of the caller ID – his mother.

“Yes?” he barked, sounding like he was talking to a business associate instead of the woman who’d given birth to him. “Yes, we just got here.” He listened to whatever she was saying on the other end of the line, and his face darkened, his brows knitting together in annoyance. “Tee time is at one o’clock…I don’t care that no one golfs that late, obviously it’s not true, or they wouldn’t have scheduled us at one o’clock… I don’t know what to tell you, I guess you’ll have to wear sunscreen… We will meet you down there then.”

He hung up the phone, and walked back into the room, tossing his cell onto the bed.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yes. My mother just likes to have everything her way.”

“Sounds familiar,” I teased, before I could stop myself.

He stared at me for a long moment, and I saw something in the expression on his face, something that let me know I’d disappointed him by comparing him to his mother. “Liam – ”

“I’m going to work out,” he said, cutting me off as he crossed the room to his suitcase and began to rummage through his clothes. He made no move back toward me, no effort to keep reminding me that he decided when, he decided how, he decided where.

Whatever.

If he was going to be cold and shut down, I sure as hell wasn’t going to chase after him.

He went into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him, and emerged a few moments later in navy shorts and a grey t-shirt that clung to his biceps. He hadn’t invited me to work out with him, and I wasn’t about to ask him if I could come.

I watched in silence as he pulled out his laptop, pulled up his email program, and sent off a quick email.

“Be ready to golf at one,” he instructed me. And then he was gone. At least, he was before he stuck his head back into the room. “And don’t try to leave the room, Emery. There will be a guard outside to make sure.”

The door shut again with a click.

I sighed.

Great.

Now he was being all cold and shut down, right before I had to go and meet his parents. Not to mention I still had no freakin’ clue what to wear. An experimental trip through my suitcase found the promised golf attire – crisp white golf skirts and pants, shirts and gleaming white socks, all of it shrink-wrapped tightly to keep everything looking perfect.

Was it mix and match? I wondered, staring at it carefully. And why was everything white? Was it like tennis, where you had to wear white or you weren’t taken seriously?

And was I supposed to wear a skirt or pants? A skirt seemed like a bad idea for an athletic outing, but the thought of wearing white pants was definitely not appealing. If there was one thing I knew about fashion, it was that black was slimming and white was, well, not.

I reached for Liam’s computer, figuring that if I was going to be left to my own devices, I’d have to google. His screen was still unlocked from when he’d just checked his email, so there wasn’t any need for a password.

I clicked on the internet browser, where I opened a new window and entered “appropriate golf course attire.” I paused a moment, then repositioned the cursor and added “for a fancy golf course.”

A few moments later, I felt marginally better. The clothes that had been packed for me seemed more than appropriate, although a quick search of golfing quick tips did nothing but confuse me. Apparently the game was so complicated that people spent years working on just their grip. As in, years learning just how to hold the club.

I closed the internet browser while visions of me whacking a golf ball into the ocean -- or worse, into someone else’s head -- floated through my mind.

The window that had been open behind my window popped up on the screen.

It was another google screen.

Liam’s.

I wasn’t snooping. There was no way not to see it. In fact, I’d seen it before I even realized what it was I was looking at.

Doctors.

Upstate New York.

Malpractice.

He’d been on a law database, scrolling through cases that had taken place right around the time my mother had done what she’d done.

He was trying to find the doctor who’d hurt me.

* * *

I shut the computer quickly, not wanting to know what he’d found, or if he’d found anything at all.

I jumped up and rushed to the minibar in the corner, where I grabbed a bottle of water and took a long sip. It felt good going down but did nothing to calm me down. My heart was racing, and my blood felt like it was being pulled from my limbs and rushing toward my head.

I was dizzy, and the whiteness of the room, beautiful in its simple elegance just a few moments ago, now felt blinding and overwhelming in its starkness.

There was a knock on the door, sharp and hard, and I jumped, the bottle of water slipping from my fingers and bouncing against the wood floor.

“It’s fine,” a woman’s voice said from the other side of the door. “Call him if you don’t believe me. I have a key card for God’s sakes!”

My stomach flipped as I rushed toward the front of the suite.

The words were similar to the ones Vienna had used when she’d been trying to get on the plane. Was she back?

I flung the door open.

A woman stood there, but it wasn’t Vienna.

She was older, the kind of older that was trying to look young. But you could tell her real age because of the work she’d had done to her face. It wasn’t that her face looked old, really – there were no wrinkles or anything – it was just that her lips were plumped, her face smoothed, her cheeks rounded with that slightly swollen look you got from fillers and injections.

She was fit and trim, and she wore a light yellow sleeveless collared golf shirt with a pair of khaki golf pants. Even though her face was wrinkle free, the rest of her skin had a slightly weathered look, tan but slightly spotty and creped.

She turned at the sound of the door opening, her eyes lighting up when she saw me. “Emery!” she crowed. “You must be! It’s me, Annabelle!”

The security guard, a nameless man I recognized from being stationed outside of Liam’s jet the other night, addressed me. “I’m sorry, miss. I’ll take care of her.” His face and tone were devoid of emotion, and I tried not to think about how he’d said ‘I’ll take care of her’ like Liam’s mother was some kind of political prisoner or something that was going to meet an untimely end if she wasn’t careful.

“It’s fine,” I said. “It’s fine, this is Liam’s mother.”

I knew it wasn’t fine, but now that she was here, in front of me, there was no way I was going to send her away. Liam had expressly forbidden me from talking to her when he wasn’t around, but this was exactly the kind of situation I’d been talking about when I’d tried to tell him just how ridiculous that rule was.

His mother was here.

In front of me.

I couldn’t just ignore her, for God’s sakes. Liam might not have cared about his parents or making a good impression, but until he told me exactly why he felt that way, I did care.

I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted his parents to like me.

The security guard gave me a skeptical look, and his hand drifted to the waistband of his pants, like he was going to radio Liam.

“Seriously, it’s fine,” I said, trying to sound like I was in command. I opened the door wider and motioned Annabelle inside before the guard could do or say anything else.

I shut it quickly, waiting a beat for him to knock on the door or break it down or demand I let him in.

After a second, there was nothing, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I turned around.

“Thank you, Emery,” Annabelle said, rolling her eyes. There were a pair of Dolce and Gabanna sunglasses perched on the top of her head, the kind of sunglasses that were way too fancy to be wearing out on the golf course, and she pulled them off her head and slipped them into her purse, as if she was to indicate she was going to be here for a while. “Liam is so paranoid, I have no idea why he thinks he needs so much security.”

I wasn’t about to tell her exactly why Liam needed security, i.e. the fact that he’d kidnapped me because of a gambling debt and the other day some random man had shared a dessert with me and then attacked me outside of a hotel room in Vegas.

But even if she didn’t know any of that, she had to know that Liam was one of the richest men in the world. How could she think he didn’t need security?

“Yes, well, Liam’s very successful,” I tried.

She flicked her hand through the air in a dismissive gesture, as if being successful wasn’t a reason to need security. Was she that old school and/or naïve?

“Liam’s always been paranoid,” she said. She was making her way to the other side of the room, and she opened the glass doors wider, pushing the curtains further aside to let more light in. “Ever since he was a little boy.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” She shook her head. “He used to line his G.I. Joe dolls up around the perimeter of his bedroom. What four-year-old does that? But of course he’d seen that movie Home Alone, and he was just certain that anyone who even walked down our street was going to try to break in. And of course he was going to have to be the one to save us.” She shook her head.

“Now,” she said, sighing and taking me in. “Let me look at you.” She took my hands and let her gaze run up my body. I was suddenly self-conscious at the fact that I was wearing just yoga pants and a t-shirt. I hadn’t showered since the night before, and I knew my hair probably looked windblown and wild.

Suddenly, I wished that Marnie and Tevi had been here, or at least that I’d met Liam’s mother when I was wearing the outfit they’d put me in, the dress and sandals, my hair thick and wavy from the extensions, my makeup perfectly applied. Which I would have been able to do if my father wasn’t such a fuck-up.

“We just got off the plane,” I said self-consciously, smoothing my yoga pants and pulling on the bottom of my t-shirt. “I haven’t had a chance to change or anything. I was going to change before we hit the golf course – ”

“You’re gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.” She sighed. “Ahh, youth. You make sure you take care of your skin,” she instructed “You need to make sure to keep it looking like that.” She rummaged around in her bag and pulled out a tube of sunscreen in a brand that I noticed from the pages of Maddie’s fashion magazines. “Here,” she said. “Take this. It’s the best on the market.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “I can’t –”

“An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, that’s what I say, and it goes double for your skin.” She sighed like her skin was a complete mess, even though her face was smooth and unlined. “Liam’s at the gym?”

“Yes.”

She looked around at the state of the room. Our suitcases were standing upright, except for the one Liam had used to pull out his workout clothes. That one was sitting on the bench at the bottom of the bed, zipped back up. All of them matched, upholstered in the same smooth black leather.

“This is crazy, living out of suitcases.” She unzipped Liam’s suitcase and looked at the meticulously folded contents. Then she shook her head. “And of course he won’t put his clothes in the drawers.”

She was right, I realized. He wasn’t going to put his things in the drawers. Was it because he wanted to be able to make a quick getaway if he needed to?

“You’ll stay at our house,” she declared. As if to make this decision official, she began moving all the suitcases toward the front door. “You’ll be so much more comfortable there. This place is beautiful, but it’s so sterile, you know? Not the same as staying with family. Okay?” She looked at me, her eyes hopeful. “You’ll stay with us? You and Liam?”

“Umm…” I knew I should ask Liam first. This was his family, and I knew there had to have been a reason he’d wanted to stay in a hotel. It should have been his decision. But the way she was looking at me, I just couldn’t say no. And why should I? If Liam wasn’t going to tell me what was going on with his family, then why should I have to be the one to be rude to his mother? She’d been nothing but nice to me. “Sure,” I said finally.

She smiled, revealing perfect teeth that definitely had to have been fake, but looked so real I was jealous. “You must be starving,” she said, crossing the room and picking up the phone. “I’ll get us some brunch.”

It was a slightly presumptuous thing to do, her just walking in here and opening the curtains, ordering up room service, unzipping Liam’s suitcase. But isn’t that what mothers were supposed to do?

They were supposed to breeze in like this and tell ridiculous stories about G.I. Joe dolls and insist you stay with them and make you feel like you were a kid, no matter how old you were. At least, that’s how it always was on movies and shows. I had nothing to compare it to in my own life.

“Ham and cheese omelets and avocado toast?” she asked me as she dialed. “And coffee?”

I smiled. “Sounds delicious.”

* * *

When Liam got back from the gym forty minutes later, his mother and I had finished our brunch, and all that was left were dirty plates and a couple of stray crusts.

Annabelle and I had been chatting for the past forty-five minutes, about TV shows and books and the difference between California and New York, all the while sipping coffee from small white and blue china cups.

I found Liam’s mother to be quite charming and not at all stuck up or stuffy, the way I’d first pictured her. She loved watching all the same trashy reality TV I did, while her taste in novels tended toward hooky commercial thrillers.

I’d almost forgotten she was Liam’s mother – she put me so at ease that I didn’t worry about impressing her or trying to make her like me. Instead, I felt like I’d known her for a while.

But as soon as the door to the suite opened and Liam walked in, his presence changed everything.

He commanded a room, always, like no one else I’d ever met, his masculinity permeating the air and overwhelming whatever had been going on before he got there. But it was even more on apparent now, when he came in and saw me sitting there with his mother, the two of us chatting like old friends.

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and I could tell it was taking an incredible amount of self-control for him not to show a reaction. And yet even as he kept his emotions carefully in check, his eyes took in the scene before him, the suitcases placed carefully by the door, the empty dishes from our breakfast, the way my knees were curled up underneath me in my chair.

“Mother,” he said tightly.

She stood up and rushed to him, kissing both of his cheeks and stepping back to study him. “Are you eating enough? You don’t look like you’re eating enough. Is he eating enough, Emery?”

“I think so,” I said. “He’s always getting on me about making sure to have all things in moderation.”

Liam shot me a look of disapproval. “Emery, you’re not dressed.”

“Sorry.” I stood up, my eyes sliding to the huge white and silver chrome-faced clock that was mounted on one wall of the suite. It was twelve-fifteen. “I was just waiting for you to get back so I could jump in the shower.”

“We don’t want to be late,” Liam said.

“Oh, it’s fine,” his mother said. “If we have to push the tee time back, I’m sure they’ll be nothing but accommodating.” She winked at me. “The perks of having a famous son.”

I smiled, but there was a heavy tension permeating the room now. Annabelle Rutherford was a force to be reckoned with, but she was no match for Liam. Liam took over a room, and he wasn’t going to be swayed by any of his mother’s antics.

“It won’t take me long,” I promised, grabbing my suitcase from near the door and wheeling it into the bathroom’s huge separate dressing area.

I shut the door to the bathroom, lingering a minute longer than I should have, waiting to see if I’d hear the murmur of voices.

I did, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying – Liam sounded short, almost annoyed, and his mother sounded like whatever he was upset about was no big deal.

I took a shower, trying to be quick, washing my hair with a tropical shampoo that came out as a foam instead of a gel and a conditioner that was similarly light and airy. The water poured over my body, warm and comforting, beading off my skin and leaving my ass stinging where Liam had spanked me last night.

I dried myself carefully, then blow dried my hair and twisted it into a messy ponytail. I applied some bb cream, a bronzer, a swipe of mascara and soft pink lip gloss. Then I dressed in a white golf skirt and a hot pink t-shirt.

Gleaming white sneakers completed the look.

I surveyed myself in the mirror. If nothing else, I at least looked like I belonged.

I walked back into the living area.

Liam’s mother was out on the patio now, talking to someone on her cell phone. Liam was sitting at the desk on the opposite side of the large room. He looked out of place behind it – the desk was there just for show. Everything about this room was supposed to feel tranquil and tropical, with relaxation being its main focus. It wasn’t supposed to be the kind of place you came to work.

But of course Liam wasn’t able to relax for one moment.

When he saw me standing in front of him, his eyes rose from his iPad and his gaze raked up my body.

I swallowed and pulled on the skirt self-consciously.

He got up and crossed the room to me, just as his mother came in from where she’d been out the balcony.

“Your cousin is really stepping it up for this party,” she said to Liam, smiling as she ended the call. “You’ll love my nephew, Emery. He’s so – ”

“Mom, you can go now,” Liam reported. “Emery and I will meet you on the course.”

If Annabelle was startled by Liam’s admonishment and dismissal, she didn’t show it. Instead, she slipped her phone into her purse and gave my shoulder a squeeze as she walked by. “See you on the course, Emery.”

“See you on the course, Annabelle.”

Liam’s right eye twitched at me calling his mother by her first name. But she’d told me to. What was I supposed to do?

When the door shut behind her, Liam didn’t say anything, instead staying silent while he continued to gaze at my body. He’d showered and changed in the other bathroom while I was getting ready, and his hair was damp, the top curling softly over his forehead. He was dressed in a navy blue golf shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, and a pair of khaki shorts that showed off his muscular legs.

“Is it okay?” I asked, self-conscious under his gaze. “Should I have gotten Tevi and Marnie? I mean, it’s a private golf course, I didn’t think there’d be paparazzi, but if your family thinks that I’m… I mean, of course I’ll do it for the party, but it just felt like overkill for golf.” I stopped to take a breath.

Liam took my hand and began to lead me to the door of the suite. When we got there, he stopped abruptly, putting his hand on my hip and guiding my body until front of his.

He spun me around so that my back was to him.

His hands tangled with my ponytail, twisting it in his hands.

“What part of ‘don’t talk to my parents without me’ wasn’t clear to you?” His words were dark and threatening, but his tone sounded sincerely curious, like he was wondering if perhaps he hadn’t been clear, when of course, he had.

“She came up here, Liam, she knocked on the door.” My mouth had gone suddenly dry, and I licked my bottom lip. Liam’s hands grabbed my wrists and squeezed gently, just enough pressure to let me know he was in control, just enough pain to cause my pulse to leap and dance.

He raised my arms over my head, slowly, then placed my hands on the double hook that hung over the back of the door, closing the fingers of each hand around each side of the hook.

I held onto the metal as his fingertips grazed over my bare arms, down my sides until he got to my hips.

“I thought I was very clear with you, Emery. Was I not?”

“Yes,” I said, closing my eyes tight. “Yes, you were clear.”

“But you disobeyed me.”

I swallowed. There was no use in trying to convince him why my actions were justified. Talking back would just make it worse.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, I disobeyed you.”

Liam’s grip tightened on my hips and he angled me up toward him, so that my ass was thrust into the air. He leaned down, his body over mine, and his breath tickled my neck, causing the hairs there to stand up and my skin to prickle with hot goose bumps.

I took in a shuddering breath. I turned my head, desperate for him to kiss me, aching to feel his mouth on mine. His touch had set my body on fire.

Instead, he wrapped his hand tighter around the strands of my ponytail and pushed my head back toward the door, away from his lips.

“You look so sexy, Emery.” he said, and now he was flipping up my pleated skirt, exposing the tiny white thong I was wearing underneath. “Jesus,” he whispered, his right hand caressing my bare butt as his left hand stayed on my hip, holding me up and angled toward him. “Just looking at you has my dick hard.”

My pussy pounded and I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying to relieve some of the uncomfortable arousal that was building up inside of me. The movement earned me a sharp spank.

“Stay still.”

Another spank, barehanded, the flat of his palm stinging my flesh.

He spanked me five times, with one on my panty-clad pussy for good measure. They weren’t particularly hard spanks, but that almost made it worse. Like the pressure he’d applied to my wrists a few moments ago, it was just enough to let me know he was in charge.

When he was finished, he pushed my panties to the side, grazing his finger over the cleft of my pussy. I tensed, knowing he could tell how wet I was.

Then suddenly, I felt his hands on the sides of my panties, pulling them down to my ankles.

“Lift your feet.”

I lifted them, one by one, my legs like jelly as he finished removing my panties.

“You can take your arms down,” he instructed, and I turned around just in time to see him take my panties and put them in his pocket, the same way he’d done at the casino.

That had been different, though. We’d been in a different situation, and we’d left soon after. Now I was about to spend the afternoon out on the golf course with his family, not to mention the other golfers and club patrons, and the skirt I was wearing now was much shorter than the dress I’d been wearing at the casino.

“Liam. You can’t be serious.”

He pushed his body against mine. He was granite, rock hard, and my breath hitched.

“Remember last night?” he breathed. He cupped my chin and held me there, making sure I was staring into his eyes.

“Yes.”

“Remember how I pushed into you, how I made you mine?”

My ass pulsed and my core clenched, as the memory of him on top of me flashed through my mind like lightning, and I could almost feel him pushing into my ass again, breaking my resistance the way he’d done with so many other things.

“Yes.”

“Do you remember what I said to you right before I did that?”

I swallowed. “You said it was time I learned there were always consequences to my actions.”

“Yes.” He moved away from me then. “It appears you didn’t learn your lesson.” He reached behind me and turned the knob on the hotel room door. “Now come on. We’re going to be late.”