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“That was—” I start to say, but I realize I have no words.
“Good,” he supplies with a small smile.
“Better than good.” I stretch with a sigh. “Maybe you were right and I did just need a release.”
“One hell of a release.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
His smile fades slightly. “I won’t.”
I open my moth to speak again but stop myself. There’s a distant look in his eyes and I’m not sure what it means.
But it doesn’t matter. This is now, and tomorrow is tomorrow. I can worry about what’s going to happen with him when the time comes—but for now, I’ll let myself stay in his arms, I’ll indulge myself in a little pleasure.
In the coming days and weeks, I suspect there won’t be much left.
Chapter 19
Alisa
After that night, we fall into a comfortable rhythm.
Liam’s almost never home. There’s always a guard on the front door and another lurking in a car out front, but they rarely speak to me. When I go for a run, the car’s following as close as it can. I stick to main streets where it’s easier for them to keep close tabs.
Orin’s always in the house. He’s busy, constantly running errands for Liam, but available whenever I need something. Which isn’t very often—as it turns out, being Liam’s wife in the middle of a war for the marijuana trade on the West Coast is actually kind of boring.
I sleep in most mornings. I don’t even notice Liam getting into bed at night, and he sneaks out before I’m up. We run into each other like strangers passing in a darkened alley, wary and uncertain. The memory of that sex still lingers, lighting me up whenever I need something to think about in the loneliness of having nothing to do and nowhere to go, but the intimacy we felt fades away.
“What’s he doing all day?” I ask Orin about three weeks into my marriage. By now I’ve redecorated the house twice, just to have something to do. Currently, it’s beach-chic with lots of driftwood and seashell motifs. Still a theme, but not as obscenely over the top.
“Working,” Orin says with a shrug. “Got any threes?”
“Go fish.” He grunts at the card he picks up. “Seriously, what’s working? When we started this, he made it sound like he needed my expertise.”
“I shouldn’t say.”
I look at my card, barely paying attention to the game. “Got any kings?”
“Rats.” He gives me one.
“But you know, that means he’s doing something. Come on, I barely see the guy anymore. What’s going down?”
He hesitates and looks around before leaning in. “He keeps trying to buy the competition, but nobody wants to sell. He’s busy all the time because they keep stringing him along.”
“That’s it? Why don’t you tell him I can help?”
“Tell him yourself. Got any eights?”
I toss one to him. “As if I see the guy.”
“Don’t you share a bed with him?”
“I swear he waits until I’m asleep before he comes home. I think he developed an allergy to me.”
Orin laughs once and shakes his head. “I doubt that. I’ve never seen Liam so interested in a person before. He definitely likes you.”
A strange little thrill runs into my guts. “He likes me likes me?” I waggle my eyebrows, grinning.
“Don’t be childish,” Orin says, raising his chin. He lays down four eights. “I’m good at this game.”
“I’m just tired of sitting around, that’s all. Tell Liam his wife is feeling a little lonely and ignored.”
“I’m sure he’ll care.” Orin gives me a look.
I flip him off. “Got any fours?”
“Go fish.”
Another couple weeks pass. I have at most five conversations with Liam in all that time, partially because he travels back to Boston twice. I keep thinking about that first night—not just about the sex, but what he said before it, about getting too close to each other. Part of me thinks that’s why he’s doing this, and it isn’t only because he’s busy. He’s avoiding me on purpose, and I should be okay with it, since I’m aware that getting more attached to him than necessary is a really bad idea.
But I find myself wishing he’d come home earlier, at least so we can talk a little before going to sleep.
When he’s out of the state, security at the house goes through the roof—multiple guards, soldiers all down the block, like he’s expecting a small militia to invade. It makes me feel a little less lonely, since some of the guys are friendly. When I ask Orin about all the muscle, he only shrugs, like he doesn’t know what Liam’s thinking.
Nobody ever seems to know, or at least they won’t tell me.
Things finally change when I wake up feeling queasy one morning. It’s a regular day, and my big plans involve a five-mile run and a ton of online shopping, but I feel off the moment I get out of bed. I head downstairs and Orin frets over me. “Want some breakfast?” he asks.
