Chapter 40

Becky

9:02 PM THURSDAY

If only I were a Jedi warrior or someone with some fucking mind powers, I’d be able to make the fucking lift move at twice the speed it’s moving.

Better still if I were Captain Kirk or Spock. I could teleport myself to where I wanted to go. Or something like that.

Of course, if I had mind control powers, my options would be endless. I could make the lift move, or maybe even get Liam to come to me. Now wouldn’t that be neat.

Please, please let it move at supersonic speed and take me to find Liam. I need to get there to find Liam.

I close my eyes briefly, hoping that when I open them again, my prayer will be answered, and the lift will be ready for me.

But of course it is not.

Maybe the damn thing has finally given up, or gone on holiday for the rest of the day. There are so many strange things happening at this place, it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s what the hell is going on.

I sigh and actually toy with the idea of taking the stairs. Of course, that would just be ridiculous.

With the lack of total food and the sheer amount of alcohol I have sloshing around in my system right now, I think I would collapse on the first fucking step.

Finally, the elevator arrives and the door opens.

Luckily, no one’s in it as I leap over that little gap every lift has.

Sometimes, I hesitate to cross that little threshold, imagining all kinds of monsters down in that tiny gap about to come out and grab me…but not right now, no. Right now, I pay no attention to this little gap and go ahead and press the buttons to get me moving.

It seems to take like forever for the doors to glide shut. Faster, faster, faster, I mumble, moving from one foot to the other as if my motion might increase the speed with which this stupid lift is moving.

Finally, I hear the low hum and feel the upward movement. Come on, let me find Liam. I need to fucking find Liam and beg for his forgiveness.

I’ve decided begging is what I need to do, and I keep rehearsing the words I’m going to use.

I’m sorry.

I should have listened to you.

You would never have lied to me.

I’m sorry.

When the lift stops, I frown.

This isn’t the level I was after. What the fuck was going on?

A man is standing at the open door. For a microsecond, maybe even less, my heart does somersaults, and I’m about to throw myself at the man of my dreams.

Except―my eyes adjust, and my heart stops beating altogether until it increases its tempo.

“H-hey, Becky-beans,” Dan smiles and reaches out for me.

When his hands touch mine, I cringe inwardly. I want to pull away from him, but he’s got other ideas.

“Dan,” is all I’m able to say, stuck for something suitable.

I hadn’t expected to run into Dan before Liam. My entire focus had been my husband.

Liam, my husband—not asshole Dan the Man.

The words fill me with a warm glow. I’ll be all right. I’ll be able to handle Dan.

“You’re here.” I put on my subservient voice. “I thought you were busy with the…” I don’t finish my sentence on purpose.

“Surprise.” He holds his arms out, and I see he’s wearing his boring suit. Liam doesn’t wear a suit and looks like a million percent better than this dick. “I finished early and thought I’d surprise my Becky-beans. About time I spend some time with my bride-to-be before the wedding.”

The way he emphasizes the word my does not escape me. I don’t like it. It takes every ounce of self-control not to hit him.

He leans toward me, and I see his mouth come for mine. Fuck. I don’t want to him to kiss me.

I turn my head a little to the side and his lips touch my cheek.

If he’s noticed my evasion, he’s pretending he hasn’t.

“Well,” I say and frantically try and come up with a plan. Should I feign illness and faint? No, I don’t think that would solve anything. Think, Becky, think.

His arm goes around my waist and pulls me into him. It feels awkward and wrong. I try and relax, but my body is about as stiff as a tennis racket.

“And about the other night Becky-beans.” He’s leaning into me, and his lips brush the top of my hair. “Whatever happened—whatever you did—I want you to know that all is forgiven.”

Of all the fucking hypocritical things to say, he forgives me. I almost laugh out loud.

Newsflash, Dan: I don’t fucking forgive you.

“Why don’t we go somewhere more private?” I mumble and run my hand along his waist line.

Dan laughs. It’s an arrogant laugh. “Oh, someone’s been missing me.”

In your fucking dreams, I want to say, but I don’t. I’ve finally come up with a plan.

As soon as we’re inside the bridal suite, I wrap my arms around him and let my lips caress his neck as my fingers play with his hair.

“Oh, Dan,” I whisper moving further into the room.

Dan laughs. He seems a little, what, embarrassed? I’m not quite sure how to describe his reaction.

“Why don’t we just sit on the couch and have a little welcome cuddle?” He unlocks my hands from behind his neck and puts them down my side.

“Cuddle schmuddle.” I pout and put my hands on his chest. I try and steer us away from the couch.

“You’ve been back home all on your own, working you ass off, haven’t you?” I whisper and massage his abs as we continue to move into the living area. “About time you have some fun.”

Dan laughs. I think it may be a fake laugh, but I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything about Dan anymore.

I try and push any image of Dan in here with a hooker out of my mind. I don’t really need to go there. It’s enough that I know what he’s done. I don’t need to fucking visualize it.

“You’re very lucky I’m such a forgiving man, you know. It sounds like the other night was a wild night. I don’t think it was a night you made the best choices.”

It is with great effort I suppress the rage building in me like a tornado. Wasn’t there some saying about not throwing with stones when sitting in a glass house?

Well, Dan’s got some nerve berating me. But I bite my lip.

And as for choices he’s got no fucking clue, because that night I made the best fucking choice of my life.

“You’re absolutely right, darling,” I coo and keep moving us along in the room. “And I’m soooo pleased you’re here now. Finally, it’s just the two of us.”

Dan smiles and pats my head. “You’ll have to make sure that when we’re married, you keep making good choices, Becky. It’s important that a wife of mine behaves appropriately.”

His words are razor sharp and cut me deep. If I had any doubt about Dan before, he just sealed his own fucking fate.

Had he always been like this? I shake my head.

“I know, sweetheart,” I lower my head and sound as demure as I can. I let go of him and start to unbutton my shirt a little. “But let’s not talk about it anymore,” I plead with him.

“You broke all my rules, Becky,” Dan continues, not quite willing to let the matter go. I’ve got his interest, though, with one button coming off after another. “I know you must have.”

My head tilts a little to the right, and I smile.

“I know I’ve been a bad girl.” Another button opens, and I’ve exposed the top part of my lacy bra. Dan’s taking a step toward me.

“As long as you understand you can’t break my rules once we’re married.” He pauses and extends his fingers to caress my chest where the lace is exposed. “It’s probably those friends of yours. I think they’re a bad influence. They lead you off the straight and narrow path.”

To keep him focused on me, I nod.

“Of course, darling,” I agree, and now, I’m out on the balcony. This is slowing my search for Liam down a bit, but I realize I need to deal with this jerk first.

I know I won’t regret it.

I dance around Dan, so his back is away from the door. A few more steps, and…perfect.

My hands glide up his abdomen and chest, stopping just below his shoulder.

“You’re so right, darling, you really are.” I feel him take another step backward.

Fucking perfect.

“You know something, Dan?”

He looks at me. How had I ever thought I loved this man? There must have been something seriously wrong with me.

“What, Becky-beans?”

His hands are on my hips.

“You’re right that I’m lucky. I’m the luckiest fucking woman in the world, thanks to you.” I smile sweetly at what used to be my husband-to-be.

And then I push with both my hands against his chest as hard as I can.

I watch his face as he falls backwards into the salt water swimming pool—where, if I’m not mistaken, the sharp point of a gray dorsal fin is awakened by the splash he makes when he hits the water.

“And don’t call me Becky-beans,” I add. “My name is Becky Black.”

Dan’s a smart man. He’ll put two and two together eventually—if the shark doesn’t eat him first.