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He’s offering to help me, and I have a feeling he’s the only person in this entire house that might really do it.
Everyone else would gladly sell me out to Rustik to gain his favor.
But not Liam. The Crowley family can match the Aslan Bratva in strength and influence, maybe even outmuscle them, but the Crowleys’ base of operations are all on the East Coast, far from Portland.
I can’t imagine what he expects to get out of this.
“What do you want?” I whisper, heart racing into my throat. I look around, expecting a call to go out any second and for a dozen Aslan enforces to rush our position.
“Don’t worry about that just yet,” he says, head tilted, making very unnerving eye contact. “I’ll help you get away. Then you’ll listen to a proposal.”
“That’s it?” I ask, barely able to conceal my impatience. “You just want to pitch me on a business idea?”
“Exactly,” he says, not smiling.
The crazy guy isn’t kidding.
“Fine,” I say, desperation taking me over. “Sure, whatever, I’ll listen to your proposal. Just get me out of here.”
He nods, holding my gaze for another second. “Do exactly what I say. Do you understand?”
“But—”
“Come on.” He yanks me from the bushes, and we’re out into the back garden.
Chapter 3
Alisa
Other guests mill about.
I recognize some of them. Papa’s cousin Vladimir. A business partner that worked with Papa on one of his earliest dispensary projects. A congressman I’ve seen on TV a few times. Criminals, gangsters, worse. Liam leads me through the crowd, smiling and nodding, greeting people that stop to say hello. I do my best to smile through it, but inwardly I’m screaming.
“Shouldn’t you be inside?” an older woman asks me. She’s wearing so much jewelry, I’m honestly shocked she can stand under the weight. “Dear, weren’t we told this was going to start soon?”
“Soon, Madame Pomfrey,” Liam says soothingly and pulls me on.
We angle toward a bar. It’s set up on the back patio. Music’s playing, soft strings, background noise to the conversations. “Where are we going?” I hiss at him. “If Rustik sees me—”
“You’re with me now.” Liam glances down. “You’ll be fine.”
I let out a startled, disbelieving laugh. What the hell is with this guy? That sort of confidence is movie-theater bullshit. We’re at my wedding, I’m the only woman in a freaking wedding dress, and everyone’s staring. How does he expect to get me away when we’re in the middle of everything?
But I don’t have time to argue. He strides through the crowd like a shark parting a school of fish. We reach the bar but don’t stop. He continues around to the side, past the bartender, and around to the other side of the house.
More bushes are ahead.
“We’re going to start running,” he murmurs, staring straight ahead.
“I’m sorry, what now?”
“Running. You can run, right?”
“Of course I can freaking—” I catch myself. “I’m barefoot.”
“We’re going for my car. It’s parked at the far end, unfortunately. I didn’t plan on stealing the bride.”
“You’re not stealing me.”
“Feels like stealing you.” He pulls me into the bushes again. Just like the other side, it’s a narrow gap. I’m pressed close, breathing in his smell, just like my fantasy from a few minutes ago. I shiver, trying to get a hold of myself, but this guy’s driving me crazy.
“You’re helping me.” I try to push him away, but I might as well try to bite through steel. “That’s all.”
“Let’s pretend it’s something more.” He’s talking to me, but he’s looking around like he’s waiting for something. “It’s more fun if I’m the dashing commoner stealing a princess out from under the nose of the evil, dastardly king.”
“What in the hell—”
“You can be my princess, can’t you?” He glances down, and now I realize he’s teasing me. “My little Russian Bratva princess?”
“You prick,” I hiss. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Can’t help myself. You look beautiful with your cheeks all flushed like that.”
“I don’t—” I blink at him, head reeling. “What are you even talking about? If you keep being an asshole, we’re going to get caught.”
He suddenly bends down, pushing me back against the bush. I grunt in surprise, but he grabs onto my dress down around my knees, and rips it. I try pushing him back, but he ignores my protests, until the dress is ruined.
“Now you can run properly,” he says, moving back to study his handiwork. “If we get caught, you’re fucked, and I’ll have started a war.” He considers for a moment. “I may be starting a war either way.”
“Why are you doing this?” I sputter at him.
“You have nice legs.”
“I don’t—what the hell are you talking about? That’s why you’re helping me?”
“No. That’s just incidental. Only another few seconds.” He pull me tighter against him. I’m astonished by his sculpted chest, his spicy-sweet scent, the way my body tingles when I’m this close to him. “This is nice, isn’t it? Me and you, alone in nature?”
