Beautifully Cruel (Beautifully Cruel #1)(58)
He’s so handsome in profile. Handsome, mysterious, and very far away.
“Liam?”
“Aye, lass?”
“How old are you?”
He answers without hesitation, his gaze on the glass in his hand. “Thirty-nine.”
He’s fifteen years older than me. Eighteen years ago, he would’ve been twenty-one.
Is twenty-one old enough to have a woman named Julia calling you “my love?”
Even before I’ve finished asking myself the question, I already know the answer is yes.
When I don’t say anything more, he murmurs, “Does that bother you?”
I answer without thinking. “No. I like it.”
He turns his head and looks at me. His gaze is blazingly intense.
Flustered, I look down at the glass of wine in my hand. “I need to get the Wi-Fi password.”
“Of course. Anything you want, just ask me for.”
Surprised, I glance up at him. He’s still staring at me with that dark fire in his eyes. “You don’t mind?”
“Why would I mind?”
“Because, I mean…what if I tried to send somebody an email?”
When his brows quirk together in a confused frown, I add, “Like an SOS.”
He has me trapped in his eyes. I want to look away, but can’t.
His voice low and his gaze locked with mine, he says, “I know you’re not going to do that.”
My heart is a frantic bird, its wings beating against the cage of my chest. “How do you know?”
“Because you want to stay with me. Because nothing has changed from the time you said you trusted me.” His voice drops even lower. “Because you know I’ll keep my promise to let you go back to your life at the end of twenty-eight days, even though neither of us will want that to happen.”
A wave of heat flashes over me, flushing my skin. It seems I can feel every one of my nerve endings.
I tear my gaze from his and fidget in my chair. For lack of anything better to do, I take another swig of the wine, feeling Liam’s gaze on me the whole time.
“Have you eaten?”
“I had lunch around one, some stuff from the fridge. Lasagna. It was good.”
Calm down. Keep it together. Why are you so emotional? He’s only asking you about food.
“Would you like to go to dinner?”
I whip my head around and stare at him. “You mean…out to dinner?”
He inhales slowly. A muscle flexes in his jaw. When he speaks, he sounds as if it’s through gritted teeth. “Aye.”
After a moment, I realize I’ve insulted him.
That confuses me so much I have to sit in silence for a while, readjusting my mental compass. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just not sure what the rules are. I’ve never been kidnapped before.”
He examines my expression for a moment. His own is tense and dark. Then he turns his attention to the glass of brandy in his hand. He lifts it to his lips and drinks until all the amber liquid is gone.
“There are no rules,” he says, his voice husky. “Except that you live here with me for the next few weeks.”
Why is he so melancholy? And why do I care? More importantly, what am I missing?
“I’m curious about something.”
He waits silently, gazing at the empty glass in his hand.
“What is it about me that you think you need?”
I feel his surprise, though he makes no outward reaction. He doesn’t move even an inch. But I’m attuned to him now, to his moods and the small inflections of his voice and expression. To the way he speaks volumes if you watch closely enough, if you take in all the silent signs.
He answers after a long time in a voice that’s so sad it could break my heart.
“You make me feel human.”
Emotion wells in me, tightening my chest and forming a lump in my throat. It might be stupid, it might even be insane, but the empathy I feel for this dangerous, enigmatic man is so powerful I’m breathless from it.
He’s suffered more than most people could endure and go on living, of that I’m certain.
On impulse, I whisper, “I’m glad.”
He looks up at me with dark, empty eyes.
Shit. This is all kinds of wrong. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t—“How about Italian for dinner?”
He gazes at me for a moment, then murmurs, “You had Italian for lunch.”
“I never get tired of my favorite things.”
“Me neither.”
I have a feeling he’s not talking about food, but I don’t have time to think about it, because he stands, crosses to me, and gives me a gentle kiss before leaving the room.
21
Tru
After I change into a dress and the pumps I threw at him, Liam takes me to dinner.
It’s a charming Italian place, designed like an old Tuscan villa, with two floors surrounding a central courtyard. The structure is made of terracotta bricks draped with hanging ivy. A thousand white lights twinkle in the olive trees on the patios and courtyard and around the edge of the roof.
It’s magical, romantic, and completely unexpected.
It’s also empty. Aside from the waiter who seated us, there isn’t another soul in sight.