Beautifully Cruel (Beautifully Cruel #1)(53)

“What’s so important for you to get back to, lass? Your job at Buddy’s Diner?”

I bristle at the mockery in his tone. “Waitressing is honest work, which is more than you and Liam can say about what you do.”

He snaps back, his voice cutting. “You have no idea what we do.”

“I guess we have different definitions of the word honest.”

He looks at me for a long, tense moment, then says softly, “They’re closer than you think.”

Understanding there’s a hidden meaning there, and also that he immediately regretted what he said, I say, “Are you going to explain that?”

He shakes his head.

“Okay, then. I’ll cut to the chase: how can I get out of here?”

“You can’t, unless he decides to let you go.”

He takes one long, last drag on his cigarette, then drops it to the cement and grinds it out under his heel. “But here’s some free advice that’ll help you in the meantime. Don’t lie to him, because he’ll know if you do. Don’t betray him, because I’ll know if you do.” His eyes glitter. “And you won’t like the consequences.”

I will myself not to blink or swallow. “Is that it?”

He walks past me to the elevator and presses the call button. He’s silent for a moment, waiting for it to arrive, then turns and gazes at me thoughtfully.

“Don’t treat him like a king, like everyone else does. What you give him—that lip, that honesty—he needs it. You’re real. For a man like him, that’s priceless.”

The elevator dings. The doors slide open. Declan steps back, gesturing for me to enter.

I walk slowly to the elevator and get inside. He hits the button for the penthouse, then stands outside the open doors with his arms folded over his chest, gazing at me.

I say, “What about me? What about what I need? Why is this all about him?”

“Because you’re gonna be fine, lass. You’re tough as any mob boss I’ve ever met. When this is all over, you’re gonna have a long, happy life.”

A chill runs over my skin. “You say that like he’s not.”

His eyes darken. “Word to the wise? Don’t get too attached. Sooner or later, men who live their lives with one foot in the grave fall all the way in.”

The elevator doors slide shut and Declan’s gone.





19





Tru





When the elevator doors open on the penthouse level, Liam’s standing there waiting for me, shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs.

His body is beautiful. Masculine architecture at its finest, sleek and strong. His shoulders are wide and his waist is tapered, and he’s got a set of abs that could make angels weep. Add in all the tattoos, and he’s magnificent.

The bastard.

“I want you to take me home now.”

“So you’ve said.”

He closes the few steps between us with his long stride and picks me up.

As he’s turning around to head out, I snap, “I’m perfectly able to walk.”

“Aye, but it’s my privilege to carry you.”

I glare at his profile, furious that he could be so calm and courtly at a time like this.

“Go ahead and pick a fight,” he says. “I like it when you quarrel with me.”

“Only because you’re bored with everyone else kissing your ass.”

“I admit it gets tedious.”

“If you’re taking me back to your bedroom, don’t bother. I’m not sleeping with you.”

“You’re adorable.”

His smile is indulgent. I’d like to smack him over the head.

“Seriously, Liam—”

“Shush,” he says firmly. “It won’t make a difference. You won’t change my mind.”

We enter the bedroom. He carries me to the bed and sets me down on the edge. When I stand up, he pushes me back down.

I close my eyes and sit there, rigid, taking deep breaths through my nose, until he says, “Get undressed.”

I open my eyes and stare angrily at him. “You’re joking.”

“You need sleep.”

“I need a hatchet and for you to stand still while I swing it at your head.”

He cups my jaw in his hand and gazes down at me, his eyes dark and beautiful and sad. He murmurs, “You don’t mean that.”

I feel a twinge of guilt and hate myself for it. Sighing, I close my eyes again. “No. I don’t.”

He crawls onto the bed and drags me on top of him, arranging my limbs so I’m using his body like my own mattress. I admit, he’s a very comfortable mattress. Comfortable and good smelling. I have to consciously resist the urge to snuggle into his broad chest.

I groan. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to. And I can. And you want it, too, only you’re stubborn as hell and won’t give me the satisfaction of admitting it.”

“I said no to your insane cohabitation proposal.”

“You considered it.”

“But I said no.”

He strokes a hand over my hair. His chest rises and falls with his heavy exhalation. “Tru. It’s done. You’re mine for twenty-eight days. You can hate me for the rest of your life after that if you want, but for now, let’s enjoy it.”