Beautifully Cruel (Beautifully Cruel #1)(78)

Stopping beside me at the elevator doors, Declan chuckles. “Kid’s got some balls on him, I gotta admit.”

“Aye,” I say, blood pounding hard through my veins.

I was wrong about Diego being dumb as a rock.

He’s a goddamn genius.





27





Tru





Liam isn’t gone long, but when he returns to the kitchen where I’ve been waiting, I can tell instantly something is wrong.

He’s tense. His eyes are wild. His breathing is shallow. His hands clench and unclench, the way they do when he’s especially agitated. I can’t decide if he’s furious, anxious, or something else, but whatever it is, it freaks me out.

“Are you okay?”

He heads directly for me, grabs me off the counter stool and into a crushing bear hug, and exhales raggedly into my hair.

My words are muffled against his heaving chest. “Liam? Um. It’s hard to breathe.”

Gripping my upper arms, he pulls away and stares down at me. His gaze is blisteringly intense. His jaw works, but he doesn’t say anything.

“That must’ve been some phone call,” I say, watching him warily. “Is everything all right?”

“No. I mean, aye. It will be. I hope.”

Hope? He doesn’t use words like “hope.” I’ve never seen him this distracted and on edge. He’s totally weirded out.

He looks like someone just told him he won the biggest lottery in history, but to collect the money he has to saw off his own legs with a rusty knife.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

I say drily, “Gee, what a surprise.”

He drags me back into a bear hug and fists a hand in my hair. Into my ear, he says roughly, “I have to go out for a few hours. I want you ready for me when I come back. Naked, in bed, wet, and ready. No arguments.”

Dear god, this man is infuriating!

I’m about to protest, but he cuts me off with a kiss. It’s hard and demanding, edged with desperation, and the best kiss he’s ever given me.

Instead of hollering about bossy macho men with no manners, I melt.

He releases me so abruptly I stagger to one side and lean against the island, gasping. He strides out of the kitchen to the elevator bank without looking back, disappearing through the doors the instant they slide open. Then he’s gone, leaving me staring after him in disbelief.

I have no idea what just happened.

Knowing Liam, I never will.



I spend the morning studying in the library. It’s just over a month now before I take the bar, and though I’ve been diligent with hitting the books, there’s still so much more to cover.

Liam doesn’t return by lunch, so I grab a container of prepared chicken scaloppini from the fridge, heat it up in the microwave, and eat alone, standing over the sink. Then I go back into the library and study for several more hours, losing myself in the work.

I’m surprised when I look up at the clock later on and discover that it’s after six.

I guess Liam and I have different ideas of what “a few hours” means, because he’s been gone all day.

Considering we only have three more days left, that stings.

I eat dinner, trying not to feel sorry for myself. I study some more. When I can’t concentrate any longer because thoughts of where Liam could be keep distracting me, I give up and go into the living room, curling up on the massive sofa with a blanket to wait.

I must fall asleep, because I wake sometime later with the sense time has passed.

The sun has sunk beyond the horizon. Twilight paints the room in deepening hues of purple and blue. I sit up, disoriented, wondering why the automatic lights didn’t turn on with my movement, and sniff the air.

I smell smoke.

Cigarette smoke.

When I turn my head and look around, I discover it’s coming from the man standing with his back to me, gazing out the massive windows to the twinkling lights of the city far below.

My heart pounding, I jump off the sofa and back up a few steps, panicking. “Who are you?”

From over his shoulder, the man says quietly, “Easy, lass. It’s only me.”

Declan. I’m relieved for half a second, until fear blasts through me again. “What’s wrong? Where’s Liam?”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond. He tilts his head back and blows a trail of perfect smoke rings into the air, watching until they disappear. When he speaks, his voice is even lower than before. “Get your things. It’s time to go.”

“Go? Go where?”

“Home.”

My heart stops dead in my chest. I turn cold. My hands start to shake.

Liam isn’t coming back. He’s not going to say goodbye to me. He sent Declan to do his dirty work so he wouldn’t have to deal with me getting emotional and making a scene.

We still have three days left.

My voice comes out raw. “I want to talk to him. Get him on the phone right now.”

Declan finally turns from the window. He gazes at me across the living room, his blue eyes glinting in the shadows, his expression carefully blank.

“It’s over, lass. Don’t make it worse than it has to be.”

I want to scream in frustration. I want to punch him in the face. I want to smash something, anything, but instead I say, “Don’t patronize me, Declan. I have the right to talk to him—”