“His mother, Liza, is Blackguard’s CFO, and Liam is a general counsel. I also provide him with a generous side gig of telling me when I’m being an idiot.” I pulled her hand to my mouth and gave her knuckles a kiss, if only because she was so damn cute. “Don’t worry, babe. He’s good.”
“And discreet.” Liam grinned again.
“Easy,” I said, not quite able to keep the jealousy out of my voice as I tucked Laney back into my side.
A slight lift of Liam’s brow told me he heard it too. Fuck. I moved to toss back the entire flute of champagne in one go, but then caught Laney watching me, clearly thinking about the terms of the contract we had both just signed… after I’d put down nearly a fifth of tequila.
Somehow, I’d gone from having zero conscience to being sandwiched between the two people whose opinions of me I actually cared about. I felt like one of those cartoon characters with a devil and an angel on each shoulder, except mine were both goody-goody angels.
Double fuck.
I set the flute on a nearby table and put Laney’s there with it. “We had enough before we came.”
Liam’s brow rose a bit more. “Did you?” His meaning was obvious—Since when do you have enough?
“Is there a restroom I could visit before we meet everyone else?” Laney asked.
“Sure, baby, it’s just down that hall to the right.”
We watched her weave away, and the entire time I fought the urge to take back that champagne and down it like a shot. Maybe I did have a problem. I couldn’t seem to pull my eyes away from those curves.
“You’ve got it bad.”
I turned to find Liam watching me now. “Fuck you. I don’t have anything.”
He grabbed one of the abandoned champagne flutes and took a drink. “No, fuck you. You can’t lie to me, asshole, so I hope you’re not lying to yourself. You just watched her leave like a puppy watching its owner fill its bowl with kibble.”
“I think you’re mistaking that with the look of a man who just had to watch his fiancée check every yes box in the fucking sex dictionary his lawyer wrote for her, then had to come to a goddamn party instead of working his way down the list.” Liam laughed as I glared. “You’re an asshole, by the way.”
“I did you a favor. You’re a kinky bastard, and any woman signing her life away deserves to know it.”
I shook my head. “Not on that level. Jesus Christ, Liam. Suspension? Caning?”
He just shrugged, like neither of those ideas fazed him a bit. “I’m not one to judge what you and the missus want to do behind closed doors. Just tell me one thing—how many hard limits were there?”
I didn’t answer. He didn’t break eye contact. And wouldn’t, the stubborn dick, until I answered. It was why he was so good at his job.
“Three,” I muttered.
Liam nearly choked on his champagne. “Did you just say three? As in the number after two?”
“Oh, good. You can count.”
He just looked in the direction Laney had gone as if to check that she wasn’t a figment of his imagination. “Damn. Maybe I should get married too. Hinge is for the birds, and Raya’s a scam.”
“Stop imagining my wife naked, you kinky fuck.”
He grinned one more time and took another sip of his champagne. “I’m more curious if she actually signed it. Are we legally protected, or should I be preparing for a very expensive divorce in six months?”
I scowled. Yes, six months was the official agreement, but for some reason, the idea of splitting made me want to break something. “She signed it. After further revisions.”
“Revisions?”
I gazed around the party. “Most of the financial clauses. She only agreed to enough money for Meráki, tuition, and her healthcare. That’s it.”
“Are you telling me that girl just turned down millions of dollars to be arm candy for a matter of months?”
My hand snaked out to grab his sleeve and yank him close before I could stop myself. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that. She’s not a call girl. She’s my wife. Show some goddamn respect.”
