Page 46 of The Contract Marriage

It doesn’t even take twenty-four hours before Hugh, Deena and Brielle launch their counterattack. I’m ready for it, but like Mike Tyson said, that doesn’t lessen the impact when it hits you right in the face.

I stare at the online tabloids’ “articles” that Simon forwarded after Liam and I returned from Beverly Hills last night and start pacing in the bedroom.

Using those trashy publications, Hugh, Deena and Brielle raised three questions about my marriage: why so rushed, why so hushed, and why so impulsive?

They all add up to one thing: Olivia wasn’t making a clear-headed decision. The marriage might not even be valid.

The tabloids claim that Liam’s and my marriage has to be illicit or at least questionable. Why so hurried otherwise, why the courthouse venue for somebody of Liam’s stature and social standing? His brother Rhys married in a small ceremony, but it was an actual ceremony. Surely there must be something fishy about our entire situation. Perhaps a figurative shotgun held to Liam’s back?

And there are personal attacks as well. Apparently, I’m a horrible human being who played with Tyler’s heart, then dumped him when I found a better catch in Liam Kingswood. They even created a detailed profile on my husband. Thankfully nothing they could come up with is embarrassing, although they brought up his parents’ lifestyle five times, complete with judgmental snickers.

Bastards.

They can attack me. After all, this is my doing. But they don’t get to go after Liam and his family. That’s off limits.

Strong arms wrap around me from the bed as Liam pulls me onto his lap and props his chin on the crook of my neck. “What are you glaring at?”

“Somebody touching what they shouldn’t have.”

He frowns. I feel his gaze landing on my phone screen. “Are these assholes saying crap about our marriage?”

“Yes. They aren’t completely wrong to doubt—”

“They’ve got some balls, don’t they?”

I clear my throat. He might not want the reminder that this is a contract marriage negotiated by our lawyers. “It isn’t the tabloid writers, it’s Hugh. Or, more likely, Deena and Brielle. They’re the type to know these people. Hugh is too busy buying stuff to make himself appear important.”

I scroll down and scowl at the third article, which specifies that I must marry and have a baby to take control of my mother’s trust. Therefore, there couldn’t have been anything pure about my marriage to Liam, and he’s just a puppet being manipulated. I narrow my eyes. Hugh and his family must’ve leaked it. Not that there’s any point in confronting them because they’ll deny everything.

“You’re a puppet being manipulated,” I tell Liam.

“Yeah, I saw. I’m heartbroken.” He sniffs exaggeratedly, then gives a pretend sob. “I just don’t know what to do with my fractured little puppet heart.” He turns me around and tosses the phone on the bed. “Maybe you could make me feel better.”

“Want a kiss?”

He dips his head and gives me a peck. “Mmm. Nice, but I think we can do better, don’t you?”

My heart aches as I look into his bright eyes. He’s acting like none of what’s being published bothers him, although it seems like it would have to. Then again, people who hurt the most are the best at hiding it.

I lean over to kiss him properly. His phone vibrates with Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. He sighs. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Grandma. I’ve gotta answer this or I’ll never get any peace.”

He thumbs the phone on. “Yes, Grandmother.”

“Liam Pyotr Kingswood!” The tinny voice comes through loud and clear and I wince. Her stiff diction makes what she’s saying sound extra harsh. So this is the woman her grandsons call Czarina. “What is the meaning of this!”

“The meaning of what, specifically—”

“Everything! What they’re saying. You’re married? To whom? Nobody worth mentioning, obviously.” She shoots one question after another without giving him a chance to speak.

“Grandmother, you don’t have to be rude.” Liam’s tone grows hard.

I shake my head at him. No need to fight with his grandmother over me.

But he shakes his head back and mouths, I know what I’m doing.