Chapter 31

Liam

7:01 PM THURSDAY

It’s a fucking first for me, on so many levels.

It’s the first time my wife stormed out on me during an argument, for one.

And it’s a first for a woman to walk out on a date with me, period.

Becky really is a woman of passion. Headstrong, determined, fiery as hell.

Unfortunately, she’s also fucking confused.

I shake my head. Tempted as I am to follow her, I decide against it. She’s not in a frame of mind to listen to anything I’ve got to say.

She’s a savvy woman—she just needs time to process what I’ve put in front of her. It’ll take time for her to get around, but she’ll get there—eventually.

Fucking Dan. I understand Becky’s loyalty to him, but I don’t understand her unwillingness to see the truth.

It seems so strange. Becky claims to have no recollection of what happened. I understand blocking a nasty memory from your mind, but if you dig deep and try, you usually come up with the memory.

Becky not only seems to have suppressed the memory so fucking well—it’s as if she was never present when it all happened.

When the waiter comes to the table, I order an espresso and a port. Might as well enjoy the rest of dinner on my own. I don’t like to end things abruptly—not dinner, not arguments, and certainly not relationships when I give a shit about them.

If Becky had tossed her engagement ring at me the way she tossed it at Dan, it would have shattered my fucking heart.

When I finally walk into my office, I see Dahlia typing away at her desk. It always amazes me how hard my assistant works. Of course, since she’s between relationships, she doesn’t like to go home to an empty apartment, which means right now, she practically lives at her fucking desk.

“How’s the wife?” She almost sounds smug.

Little sadist is enjoying my relationship woes while she wallows in her own.

“Don’t ask.”

“Didn’t go well then?”

The woman was fucking impossible. A know-it-all, a—I pause. “I think I’ve made a little progress. She remembers who I am, but I think she hates me now as a result.”

She’s stopped typing and has now fixed me with a knowing look. “What did you do?”

I do my best to look affronted, but Dahlia disarms me with another piercing look.

“Apart from rescuing her from my step-brother’s man-whoring clutches, fucking her brains out, marrying her, and giving her the best night of her life…I can’t imagine.” I sigh. “But I suppose for Becky, it’s more complicated than that.”

“Huh,” says Dahlia. “I mean, if she’s going to hate someone, it ought to be your step-brother then, right?”

“You would think so, wouldn’t you? And yet…”

Dahlia narrows her eyes. “She’s not thinking of going back to him.”

I shrug. “She might. She doesn’t remember his…offending incident. Repressed it too well.”

“But you told her about it, didn’t you?”

I feel her questioning eyes on me.

Christ, how do I even begin to explain?

“I don’t want her to be with me based on a second-hand memory from a biased source,” I finally say. “I trust her. And—fuck—I love her, you know? I really do. If she wants to spend the rest of her life with me, I don’t want there to be a doubt in her mind.”

“Sounds like a mess,” Dahlia says, shaking her head. “Are you sure it’s gotta be her? I mean, look—there are a lot of redheaded bimbos in Vegas, Liam.”

I sigh wistfully, striding over to the window. “Maybe. But she’s my redheaded bimbo. Only sees the good in people. And she’s got such a big…heart.”

Which is true.

Of course, I don’t mind that she’s got such a gorgeous set of tits, either.

Dahlia still looks dubious, but before she can ask any more questions, my phone rings.

I would say ‘speak of the devil’, but I honestly would prefer Satan’s calls to this.

“What the fuck do you want, Dan?”

This time, I don’t want to engage in fucking pleasantries.

“Liam?” Dan’s voice comes through the earpiece.

“Of course it’s me,” I bark at him. “Who were you expecting? The president?”

Dan does not laugh. I can only hear breathing. From the background noise, there seem to be other people present.

“Fucking funny, Liam,” Dan says.

I’m so fucking tempted to hang up on him. But if I do, he’ll only ring back straight away. Maybe I need to change my number and make sure my brother dear doesn’t get a hold of it.

If there weren’t so many people that would be inconvenienced by it, I would seriously do it, but there are billions of business cards out there with my fucking number on it. Bad idea.

Back to the fucking drawing board about how to get rid of the unwanted caller.

“If I want comedy, I wouldn’t be fucking calling you,” Dan growls at me. “I’m just calling you about Becky.”

Of course he’s fucking calling about Becky. He still seems to think that he’s got half a chance in hell with his ex-fiancé—who is now my wife.

“She’s busy,” I inform him. “You’ve lost her, Dan. Move on.”

I’ve just seen the perfect spot on the wall to hang one of those wedding photos. It will have to be enlarged, and then I think I’ll get it put on canvas.

It’ll hang right behind my desk so the minute I walk through the door, I can see it. And whenever I turn around in my chair, she’ll be there.

When I’m working, I’ll know she’s always looking over my shoulder. A warm feeling envelopes me at the mere thought.

The photo I’m thinking of is incredibly sexy. It’s a profile shot of Becky in that hot little wedding dress of hers. Her hair is up, with a few stray strands curling over her shoulder. Those tourmaline eyes of hers stare into the camera.

“Are you even fucking listening to me?” Dan’s voice is rising with anger.

I shake my head. “You’re calling about Becky. I get it.”

The man was really gnawing on my nerves—no, more like sawing away at them. If he keeps going, they might just fucking snap. And when I snap, I don’t know what I’ll do to him.

In my mind’s eye, I’m already tearing Dan apart.

“Stop fucking around, Liam. I need you to concentrate.”

That was a bit fucking rich, to tell me to stop fucking about.

“You have my full and undivided attention, brother.”

“God—don’t call me that. Look, Becky’s been dialing my number, okay? But I’m three days deep in a bender and still recovering from last night. Frankly, I’ve been coked out of my fucking mind—bet you know exactly how that feels.”

I roll my eyes. How fucking passé. Cocaine hasn’t been glamorous since the late 1980s, and benders are for poor little rich fucks who don’t have anything more important going on in their lives.

I have a business to run. Obviously, Dan the Man does not.

“So look—Becky’s fucking friends last night. You saw them, right? They were drunk out of their minds, and Becky probably was too—or else she wouldn’t have done something so fucking dumb like break up with me.”

“I don’t know, Dan. She’s a smart girl.”

“Oh, fuck off. Look, I think maybe she doesn’t remember my little incident. I think she thinks that she’s the one who fucked up. So I need you to do something for me.”

Where’s a fucking strong cup of coffee when you need one?

“Not likely.”

“I need you to look after Becky for me.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

This wanker has no fucking clue.

“Rest assured, Dan, my man. She’s more than taken care of under my watch.”

“Whatever. You’ll smooth things over with her for me?”

“I’ll smooth things over all night long if I have to.” I emphasize the ‘smooth’ and am already picturing Becky naked in my huge king size bed, maybe tied to the bed post and totally at my mercy.

“You better, Liam. Don’t mess this up. I’m fucking counting on you.”

When he ends the call, I look at my phone in disbelief. I didn’t imagine the conversation, did I?

Helping that fucker was the last thing I was going to do. A girl like Becky does not deserve someone as boring and dull as Dan.

No. I vow to make sure Becky does not marry Dan on Saturday—or any other fucking day, as a matter of fact.

What I need to do is come up with a plan to make sure Becky sees the light before doomsday.

I sigh and put my hands in my pockets. I look around my office, shifting my weight onto my heels and then forward again. This rocking motion sets off a train of thoughts.

One thing I’ve discovered is that Becky is headstrong. It’s going to take some convincing on my part. I’m pretty fucking sure that if I just come out and tell her, she won’t fucking believe me.

Thoughts tumble over one another. I don’t want to lose Becky. Now that I’ve found her and married her, I want to fucking keep her.

It’s not just a matter of making sure she doesn’t marry Dan. Oh no, it’s so much more now.

Slowly, a plan builds in my mind. I go to my desk and pull out a green velvet box. I slip it into my pocket and leave the office.

“Good luck, Liam,” Dahlia calls after me, and I pause. “You look like you’re on some kind of mission.” She’s smiling.

I nod. “I guess you could say that.”

“I hope you snatch her away from that asshole brother of yours.”

“May the best man win,” I say and head out the door.