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I can practically hear the discomfort in my friend’s voice. “I mean, yes.”
“You said they’ve been buying up the artwork like hotcakes, right?”
“Er, right.” Callie sounds self-conscious. “I mean, I can’t be sure, but…”
“I need you to keep an eye on that for me,” I tell her. “I know Craig manages the cash flow himself, but you see everyone who comes and goes. If you come across any information on them—names, titles of artwork, addresses—can you send it to me?”
“I...” Callie clears her throat. “Yeah, okay. I mean, I guess.”
“I don’t want you doing any extra digging, though,” I warn her. “Don’t do anything you wouldn’t normally do for your job, okay? If you don’t turn up anything, that’s fine. But if you do... just let me know about it, okay?”
“All right,” Callie says. “But... Vivian, why?”
“I just...” I run a hand through my hair. “Callie, I...”
My friend sucks in a breath. “Vivian, don’t tell me Lucas is in the mob.”
There’s a long pause as I struggle to come up with a response. Finally I settle on, “Like I said, Callie, he’s a bad man.”
“Right,” she says, her tone heavy. “I think I’m getting the picture.” She hesitates another moment. “Are you sure you’re okay, Vivian?”
“I am, Callie,” I tell her. “Stay safe, all right?”
“I’ll try,” she replies, and ends the call.
I take a shaky breath as I clutch my phone to my chest. My parents think I’ve been kidnapped, my sociopath husband has gone on TV to plead for my safe return, and now my best friend thinks I’m in danger from the mob. And it’s about to get worse, because at that exact moment, the sound of a commotion from the first floor of the safe house makes me jump to my feet. I don’t hear gunshots, and the guards on the roof haven’t mobilized, but through the open side window I can hear raised voices. Swallowing, I slip my phone into my pocket and creep back across the lush lawn, past the fountain, and to the sliding glass doors that open on the parlor.
Sliding them open, I glance around with a frown and then slip inside, keenly aware of the shouts trickling through the house from somewhere near the foyer… and also keenly aware that it’s probably none of my business.
But then again, considering how things are going back home, maybe it is my business.
I drift toward the front entryway, not expecting to run face-first into Liam, who’s standing there with his shoulders hunched, his hands in fists at his sides. Colliding with him is like colliding with a wall of solid muscle, and it occurs to me that I wouldn’t stand a chance against him. He catches me around the waist with one strong arm, doing little more than glance back at me; his reflexes are just that good. My stomach twists in a strange knot at the sensation, and I take a hasty step back, my eyes drifting from Liam to Theo, who’s leaning in the doorway to the downstairs hallway, and then to Tristan, who’s standing by the half-open front door, looking positively, unquestionably, one-hundred percent livid. His eyes are burning like blue fire, and I can sense his low-boiling rage from the other side of the room as he stares at...
“Sienna,” Tristan growls to the woman standing in the doorway, “how many times do we have to fucking do this?”
“As many as it takes, Tristan,” the woman purrs, in the seductive and cloyingly confident voice of a born man-eater, lightly accented and dripping with thinly-disguised desire. She’s gorgeous: tall and lithe, with the long physique of a catwalk model, with black hair that she’s pulled back in a ponytail. She’s dressed for business—black blouse, black skirt, black heels—but her eyes are all predatory as she pushes her way into the room.
In that instant, Liam’s arms are around me again, half-pushing, half-carrying me out of the entryway doorway and pressing me against the wall the moment we round the corner. I give a little yelp of surprise, but he covers my mouth with his hand, his green eyes bright with agitation. For a moment a thrill of fear goes through me, and I’m overwhelmed with confusion at the feeling of his warm palm over my lips, the scent of his skin, the sheer animal proximity of him. It’s a familiar fear, one I’ve only ever felt with Theo before, and in the space of that split second, my heart leaps into my throat. Desire twists through my stomach, but I realize Liam’s attention is elsewhere as he stares in the direction of the entryway, his senses all on high alert.
“You know you’re not supposed to be here,” I overhear Theo state, his professionalism obviously on the brink of slipping already.
Slowly, Liam removes his hand, glancing down at me and putting a finger to his lips. Breathing heavily, still flush against him, I nod, wide-eyed.
Out in the foyer, I hear the woman, Sienna, give Theo an indulgent laugh. “Relax. I just wanted to get a little peek at the new girl, that’s all.”
What’s going on? I mouth frantically to Liam, ducking my head. He sets his jaw but doesn’t say anything, keeping me pinned to the wall.
“What new girl?” Tristan demands without missing a beat. “Sienna, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Tristan,” Sienna replies. “There’s no need to play coy. We’re all adults here. The least you can do is introduce me to the new woman in your life.”
“Who is...?” I whisper to Liam, as quietly as I dare.
Liam steals another glance toward the foyer then returns his eyes to me. “Sienna DiMarco,” he murmurs back, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tristan’s ex-girlfriend.”
ChapterTwenty-Two
My jaw just about hits the floor as I stare up at Liam, my eyes darting toward the entryway and back, the wheels spinning frantically in my head. Questions race through my mind, the topmost being: Even if this chick was dating Tristan, why is Liam keeping me from seeing her?
