Beautifully Cruel (Beautifully Cruel #1)(61)

“I’d like to hear it.”

When I don’t say anything, he prompts, “Are you planning on representing celebrities?”

My gaze snaps back to his. A flash of irritation tightens my stomach. “What would make you say that?”

“Law school is expensive. Low six figures, at least.”

His stare is challenging. He’s right, so I look away, even more irritated than before.

He says, “And there’s no money in criminal defense, unless your clients are very wealthy.”

“I don’t care about the money.”

“Then you’re one of the few people who don’t.”

“You just said yourself that money is a burden.”

“Don’t avoid the question.”

Aggravated now, I look away and huff out a breath. “Fine. I chose criminal defense because I know firsthand how shitty the justice system is for people who can’t afford a good lawyer. If you’re poor and you’ve been accused of a crime, you’re fucked, regardless of your guilt or innocence. There are no country club prisons for poor folks, only politicians, hedge fund managers, and millionaires.”

There’s a pause, then Liam murmurs, “Freedom for the wolves has often meant death to the sheep.”

When I look at him askance, he says, “It’s a quote from Isaiah Berlin.”

“It’s morbid.”

“It’s the truth. There are only two kinds of people in the world: predator or prey. The poor are always prey. Poverty is helplessness. Which apparently you know.”

We stare at each other, unblinking.

The waiter—who, as it turns out, has impeccable timing—returns holding two plates. He sets them down in front of us with a flourish and explains what he’s serving. In Italian, so I’m stumped.

When he leaves, Liam says, “I asked the chef to do a tasting menu for us. That way you can try little bites of all the best items on the menu. I hope that’s all right.”

I wrestle with my irritation for a moment, before replying, “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

Liam observes me eat, all clattering cutlery and scowls, until he says, “You’re angry with me again.”

I collapse against the back of my chair, sighing. “It’s just that digging in graveyards is dangerous. Sooner or later, you’re going to uncover something bad.”

He looks at me like I’m the most interesting creature on earth. “I couldn’t agree more.”

That’s a loaded statement if I’ve ever heard one. But he doesn’t give me a chance to dwell on it before going in another direction with the Random Question Interrogation.

“Do you take after your mother or your father?”

“My mother, for sure. My dad’s helpless. Leave him alone for ten minutes and something will either be burning, exploding, or flooded. He’s a walking danger zone. Without my mother keeping an eye on him, he’d have accidentally killed himself years ago.”

Thinking of him, I can’t help but smile. “It was a lot of fun growing up with a father like that, though. He was like another one of the kids, always inventing new games for us to play. He has the best imagination. And he’s the only person I’ve ever met who lives fully in the present. He never looks back, not for a second. He’s kind of this big, goofy, cowboy Zen master, bumbling around causing trouble while at the same time happily eating life with both hands.”

Realizing I’m babbling, I stop talking abruptly and take another swallow of wine.

If Liam examines me any more closely, he’ll be peering inside the atoms that make up my bones.

“Your cheeks are red.”

“That’s just from all the blood pulsing in them. Stop looking at me like that and it will go away.”

“I don’t want it to go away. I love it when you blush for me.” When I move restlessly in my chair, his voice drops. “And when you squirm.”

I prop an elbow on the table and cover my eyes with a hand. “I wish you didn’t see me so clearly.”

He reaches across the table and takes my wrist, moving my hand away from my face so I can see his expression, all flashing eyes and need.

“No, you don’t. You love it.”

His fingers are on the pulse point on my wrist, so I know he can feel how my heartbeat ticks up. How wildly it starts to beat, stirred by the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice, and the heat scorching the air between us.

“You’re right. I do love it.” I take a breath. “And you love it that I see you, too.”

His fingers tighten around my wrist. He says nothing, but his eyes are on fire.

The waiter comes back, bearing more plates. Liam shoots him a threatening look, and he turns around and goes back from where he came.

When he’s gone, Liam says, “I meant what I said. I won’t pressure you to sleep with me.”

The heat in my cheeks flames hotter.

“But you will be sleeping with me. In my bed. Understood?”

I exhale a shaky breath. “Why?”

“Because I need you,” comes the hard response. “And if I can’t have you one way, I’m damn sure going to have you the other.”

“What about what I need?”

“What is it you think you need?”