Beautifully Cruel (Beautifully Cruel #1)(35)

“You’d be protected there,” he says, his voice hard. “It’s a fortress.”

When I lift my brows, he says, “Figuratively. There are safeguards. Technology.”

He waves an impatient hand in the air to indicate a long list of safety measures he employs that he’s not going to mention. “The point is you’d be safe. Much safer than you are here. You don’t even have a deadbolt on your front door, for fuck’s sake.”

I study him.

When I’m silent too long for his patience, he demands, “Tell me.”

I say softly, “You seem to have thought of everything. Except this plan of yours has one glaring issue that all your clinical problem-solving has overlooked.”

“Which is?”

“Emotion.”

His reply is silence, along with a slow grind of his molars.

“It’s not going to be easy to break it off after a month of total immersion, Liam. If it’s this intense now, and we haven’t even—”

“It won’t be a problem.”

“You sound pretty sure.”

He examines my face for a moment, then abruptly turns away to stare out the window. He drags a hand through his hair and adjusts his tie. His voice lowers.

“Falling in love is a luxury I don’t allow myself.”

I gaze at his profile, so handsome and hard. His expression is unreadable.

I wonder if I’ll ever get to the center of this man. If he’ll ever allow me to see past the black velvet curtain. That he’s equally capable of violence and passion I already know, but beyond those extremes lies the dark heart of him, the mystery of who he really is.

Somewhere deep inside Liam Black is the key to all the secrets he keeps locked away, but I doubt it’s a key I’ll be allowed to find.

The thought makes me unspeakably sad.

I whisper, “Who said I was talking about you?”

Eyes flashing, he turns to look at me. Our locked gazes are an invisible circuit conducting electricity through the air, cycling back and forth between us on a loop. My heartbeat goes haywire.

He says gruffly, “I told you it was selfish.”

“You did. You also told me I should slap you and throw you out, but you’re trying very hard to convince me to do just the opposite. I’m not sure which version of you I should listen to: cupid or Dr. Doom.”

Liam crosses to me slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. When he reaches me, he takes my wrists and winds my arms around his shoulders. Pulling me close, he lowers his head and murmurs into my ear.

“Listen to your heart. I won’t try to convince you beyond this: I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone or anything. Give me twenty-eight days, and in return I’ll give you everything on earth I have to give.

“I can’t promise you forever, but I can promise you a month you’ll remember for the rest of your life.”

Then he fists a hand in my hair and kisses me.

It’s hard and desperate, shockingly passionate, and rocks me with the depth of its need.

He’s giving me a preview. A taste of what he’s been holding back. A small window into the bottomless ocean of feeling he keeps so tightly locked inside.

What frightens me is just how addictive this one little taste is.

I cling to him and kiss him back, knowing that this is a terrible idea…and also that I’m in real danger of agreeing to it.

Liam breaks away, breathing raggedly. His voice hoarse, he says, “I leave tomorrow at six in the morning. You have my number. If I don’t hear from you by six, I’ll consider it a no.”

He releases me and strides off, his long legs taking him away with shocking speed.

The front door to my apartment opens and closes.

Then I’m alone with my thundering heart and a million unanswered questions, wondering how on earth I’m going to make this decision. And, if I say yes to Liam, what exactly I’d be getting myself into.

I glance at my laptop lying on the nightstand next to my bed.

“Okay, Mr. Black,” I mutter, headed toward it. “Let’s see what we can find out about you.”





14





Tru





After three hours and two-thirds of a bottle of chardonnay, the answer is: nothing.

Google helpfully provided 174,000,000 results for a search on his name. From there, I drilled down to images, social networks, and his cell phone number. I tried cross-referencing his name with the Boston PD. I tried his name plus the word “enforcement.” I tried variations on the spelling of his name, I searched Irish genealogy sites and US government databases, I even paid thirty bucks for one of those background reports claiming to guarantee results.

Basically, I twisted my brain into a pretzel to find any crumb of information, but nothing worked.

Liam Black is either a ghost or a pseudonym.

I hear a knock on my closed bedroom door. Ellie calls, “Yo. You decent?”

“I try to be. Come on in.”

She sticks her head in the door and looks at me, propped up on my bed with the laptop, simmering with frustration.

“You okay?”

“Define okay.”

She thinks for a moment. “Having slept well, eaten well, and had an orgasm within the last eight hours.”