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“How good is your knowledge of Roman Mythology?”
“Roman mythology?” Everything ancient was absolutely my jam. Egyptian, Greek, or Roman, but this one didn’t ring any bells. “Is she a Goddess? I don’t remember ever seeing that image.”
“Dea Tacita.” He said, his accent thick with an Italian curl to it.
“Like the club?”
“Like the club.” He repeated. Now it made sense why Alison said she had connections there. But why would that name hold so much significance?
Now I was even more confused. As if noticing the questions building in my head, Liam clarified, “Goddess of the Dead. Silensor of the unworthy. And yes, we own the club.”
“I’ve never heard of her. I always preferred Greek mythology, anyway. But why a Roman Goddess? Does it have a meaning?”
“You prefer the Greeks? Really? I take that as an insult, Miss Harden.” He replied, faking outrage.
“What? Why?” I was utterly lost.
“Because we Italians take our heritage very seriously. And liking the Greeks above us is a serious offense.”
“Italian? I thought you were French. Your father is as French as they come, and so is your last name.”
“Yes, my father is French, but my mother is very much Italian.”
I had seen her yesterday at the party, but I didn’t get to meet her, and Alison sure never spoke a word about it. “They met in the south of France, in Cannes, when my mother was on vacation after a short pass through Italy to visit some relatives.”
“I had absolutely no idea. I take it back, I think I’ve changed my mind. Italian is becoming my new go-to flavor.” I smiled mischievously, “But why a Goddess of the dead?” I was intrigued by the option. There were so many powerful figures to choose from in mythology, why would he have picked a lesser-known and dark deity?
“It’s a long story. Maybe some other day I’ll tell you about it.” There was a new discomfort to his posture, his voice dipping into a graver tone while his pecs flexed rhythmically. Liam avoided my gaze while he fiddled with the scrambled eggs on his plate, showing an uneasiness atypical of the self-assured man sitting in front of me.
I wanted to ask about the words written on his arm, but now definitely wasn’t the right time.
We both fell silent, and unlike before, this one was charged with a different energy, making me feel as if I had stepped too close into his space, pushing a boundary that he didn’t want anyone to be touching, nevermind trying to poke a hole in like I was doing. So I did the only thing possible. I let it go and deflected.
“Would you… umm… maybe like to grab some lunch with me today?”
“I have plans already.” He replied with a tone I didn’t exactly care for.
“Oh, umm, sure. I’ll just wash these and head home.” My shaky voice managed to say as I stood up, grabbing my plate. I was assuming things, and if embarrassment could kill, I’d be good and buried.
“The plan is to lock you inside this apartment all the way until Sunday night. You, Miss Harden, will not be leaving this place anytime soon.” I balled up my napkin and threw it at his chest, a smile of relief spreading my lips.
“You’re an asshole, did you know that?”
“Is that a yes?”
“I’ll think about it.” I faked a flat tone and walked away with the dishes, placing them in the sink to start washing them. Liam’s arms snaked around my waist, his lips brushing against the sensitive flesh just below my ear.
“Think about it? You need to think about it?” He teased, his teeth slowly sinking into my skin. “Let me show you what I think about you having to think about it.”
Liam scooped a handful of water, splashing it right in my face, his unrelenting laughter echoing through the entire kitchen while I tried to catch my breath. My face dripped cold water onto my shirt, drenching it right through.
I turned towards him, my eyes narrowing into thin slits, the word ‘revenge’ running through my mind.
“You seem pretty happy about what you just did. Let me see that smug face now.” I aimed the muzzle right at him, not giving a damn if I got everything wet.
All is fair in love and war.
Liam battled against the water jet, finally getting a hold of it, directing it my way. We were a matching set of wet, breathless messes, laughing so hard it was difficult to draw in oxygen.
