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What. The. Fuck?
Dustin is frozen, whole body shuddering. If he was doubtful regarding the ferocious intent that the man across from him was conveying moments ago, it’s sinking in now.
Liam picks up my wine, swishing it around, so I rip it away from him and down the rest in a desperate attempt to quell my sizzling nerves.
He laughs. “I’ll get you more, Ace. Anything you want.” Angling his head to Dustin, who still hasn’t moved, Liam croons, “Better get going,” as he presses a timer on his watch. “I’ll give you two hours to adhere to the mileage restraint. Don’t let me catch you.”
Dustin rises on shaky legs, his button-up dress shirt positively sweat-soaked. He says nothing, but Liam holds up a hand, suspending him in place.
“One more thing, Dusty. When you report back to Mr. Carver, you’re to tell him that Celeste was perfect. The vision of sophistication and class. Far too good for you. So phenomenal that you’d feel like a worthless piece of shit on her arm. Got it?”
Dustin nods frantically.
“I’ll know,” Liam trills with a dismissing flick of his wrist, and Dustin runs.
Holy. Shit.
It takes me several long beats to find my bearings. Liam finishes off my dessert while I bask in the silence, my emotions steadily climbing to an alarming peak.
“What the hell was that?” I ask through clenched teeth.
The din of fellow patrons chattering, dishes clanking, fans buzzing, and my own blood pulsating against my eardrums whir around my head.
He scans me, a deep inspection of my facial features and body language, making me feel naked. “That was a very thorough covering of all our bases while handling a bigoted asshole, Carver.”
So many aspects of that statement jump out at me, as well as the various other things he said during that entire debacle.
Our bases. Bigoted asshole. My girl. Make her come so hard.
Is he screwing with me?
My pupils are surely blown with fury. “Were you listening to my date?”
“I was here for security,” he replies plainly.
“That’s not an answer,” I snap. “And yet it is.” I push my chair back, gather my purse, and rise in the most inconspicuous way I can despite the steaming, white-hot rage inside me, itching to billow out and engulf this vastly occupied restaurant.
Liam tosses several bills on the table, grabs my wineglass and my hand, and stands to cement me in place as he gestures with the glass to the waiter. “What is your concern, Ace? That I heard that revolting conversation and reacted?”
“Your gratuitous violation of my privacy is just the tip of the damn iceberg, Liam, but I’m not discussing this in a room full of people.”
I strut toward Rex, but Liam jerks me back, swinging me in another direction. His arm curls around my waist, guiding me in silence into a deserted section, empty tables sitting lonely in the dark. The golden cast of the mood chandeliers trickles in from the inhabited area we vacated. Ambient light distorting everything.
“Give it to me,” he says, perching his shoulder against the wall in a calm-and-collected no-worries lean, like he didn’t just threaten to cut out my detestable date’s tongue.
My hand comes up to my forehead as I gesture with the other to the location of the chilling browbeating. “I was handling myself fine. And what you did … that was not okay, so far from the land of what normal people deem okay.”
He tilts his head, studying me again while his hand scratches at his golden stubble. “Would you have preferred I killed him? That was plan A. I went with plan B because I thought you’d be pissed, and it would’ve taken up a lot more of our night.”
Oh my God. I don’t think he’s joking.
This is the shit that Ivy alludes to with her black-market men. It’s wholly different to witness the wickedness for myself. My game strategy doesn’t seem to apply here.
Never let them see. I’m way beyond that.
Always keep them guessing. Hands down, he stole the show in that arena tonight.
Play their game. I have no idea what an appropriate follow-up move is to a confession that he didn’t kill my date as a favor to me.
