“I would certainly hope so.” Niall cuts a glance sideways at Liam with a wry smile, and Liam smiles back, but it looks forced. “We’re close; that’s sure enough.”
He lets go of my hand and nods at Liam. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time, now that the lass is up and about. I’ll be going. I’ll let you know if I hear anything more about—” Niall glances sideways at me, as if remembering I’m there, and then back at Liam. “What we discussed.”
The front door closes behind him a moment later, leaving Liam and I staring at each other from across the room.
Liam unfolds himself slowly from the couch, straightening as he looks at me. “Did you have a good bath?” he asks, his voice neutral, but I can hear something just underlying it. A hint of tension, of him trying not to let me know that he’d been thinking of me like that, naked in the steaming water, and as a result letting me know anyway.
“Um—yes. It was nice. Relaxing.” There’s that awkward tension growing between us, making me shift back and forth as I look at Liam. He picks up on it instantly, misinterpreting it and crossing the room quickly to pull out one of the stools at the bar.
“Here, sit down if your feet are hurting,” he says quickly, and I swallow, doing so only because I don’t want him to know that they’re not actually hurting. That I’m fidgeting because I don’t know how to act around him, how to behave when there can be another gorgeous man in the room here, and I still only have eyes for Liam. Back in Paris, I wanted to stay with Alexandre. But here? There’s only Liam, and it’s clear that there’s something between us that I don’t have with just any man.
“Did you put my clothes up?” I ask curiously. “Or was that a maid?”
Now it’s Liam’s turn to shift a little uncomfortably. “Me,” he says finally. “I’m sorry if that was intrusive. I took care of it while you were in the bath, while I was waiting for Niall to come over. I have maids,” he explains, walking around the bar into the kitchen and opening a cupboard for a glass. “But they come around a few times a week to clean. I do my own cooking or order in. I don’t like a lot of people around the place.” He fills the glass with ice and water from the fridge and pushes it across the counter towards me. “My family had staff growing up, and I know others, like Viktor, have household staff and couldn’t imagine life without it. But I like my peace.”
I smile faintly at him, taking the water. “I was just thinking earlier, when I saw the clothes, that I couldn’t imagine having maids around doing everything for me.” I take a sip of the water, watching him as he moves through the kitchen, lithe and muscular as a panther. “I’m glad it was you who did it,” I add, and he pauses, turning back towards me.
His gaze finds mine, and I feel that heat again, warming the room until my pulse is leaping into my throat, my mouth suddenly dry despite the water. “You are?”
“Mhmm.” I nod. “You, and not some stranger.”
“You don’t feel that I’m a stranger?” There’s something almost like hope in his eyes as his hands rest on the counter.
“Well—no.” I take another sip of my water, looking at him curiously. “We spent a little time together in Russia. Not much, but we talked. I felt like there was a connection there, for sure. And then you came to get me—” I bite my lower lip, looking away. I feel him tense the moment I mention it, and my stomach drops a little, anxiety flooding me.
I know he wants there to be something between us. I can feel it—and I don’t believe anyone would have come halfway across the world to save me out of sheer goodwill. But what Alexandre did has thrown up a massive minefield between us. Just the mention of it floods his face with guilt and me with deep, skin-crawling anxiety, remembering what happened.
Alexandre traumatized us both, and I know I should hate him for it. I know Liam thinks I should. And I don’t know how we’re ever going to get past this—and if I even want us to.
“What do you want for dinner?” Liam asks, changing the subject. “I can cook, or I can order in if there’s something specific you want—what?” He breaks off, blinking at the sudden confusion on my face. “I know you must be hungry.”
“No—I mean, yes, I am, that’s not it. It’s just—I haven’t had to decide what to eat in a long time.” My hands tighten around the glass. “Not since I was brought to Russia with Luca and Sofia.”
Liam’s jaw tenses. “He didn’t let you choose what to eat?” He doesn’t have to say who he’s talking about—we both know. Liam snorts, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. He kept you as a pet, after all—why not choose your meals for you.”
“He made me eat kneeling on the floor for a while when he was angry at me. Yvette gave him the idea to start.” I blurt it out without meaning to, regretting it the moment the words slip out, and I see Liam go pale, red spots of anger appearing on his cheekbones. I recognize that flush high on his face now as a sign that he’s pissed, and even though I know it’s not directed at me, I still feel like shrinking back, away from his fury.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Liam’s voice is a low growl. “He made you eat off the floor? Like a dog.”
“I mean, the food was on a plate, but—”
“You’re not making it sound any better.”
“I—” I open my mouth and close it again. I don’t know how I could possibly explain to Liam all the conflicting feelings that Alexandre’s treatment of me when he was angry, especially that, roused in me. How I hated it, felt debased and humiliated, and how I’d wanted to do it all at the same time, just so that I could please him. So that I could have the satisfaction of knowing I’d made my master happy. “I know it sounds strange.”
“It sounds fuckin’ abusive.” Liam’s voice thickens, his accent coming out more like Niall’s, rough around the edges. It sends a shiver down my spine, even though he’s angry, not aroused. “I don’t understand how you could think you loved him, Ana, after he did things like that to you—”
“I know it doesn’t make sense to you.” I drop my gaze to the counter, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. “I don’t know how to explain it in a way that does. I’m sorry, Liam, if all of this is too much for you, I can go—”
“No.” The word comes out sharp and immediate, and he circles around the bar, moving towards me with that strident grace that sends my heart racing even faster. “I don’t want you to go, Ana.”
He’s nearly standing over me, the bulk of him close and warm, and I feel as if my heart is going to pound out of my chest. I tilt my head back to look up at him, his burning green eyes and handsome, masculine face, his beard is thicker and redder than I remember it back in Russia. I see his tongue flick out, trailing over his lower lip, and for a wild moment, I think he’s going to kiss me.
He hasn’t kissed me yet. He’s been inside of me, made me come, had his mouth between my legs, came in my mouth while I swallowed it. We’ve done nearly everything else that two people can do together, the basics at least, but he hasn’t kissed me.
I’m almost certain that it’s not because he doesn’t want to. Which only leaves one explanation—that he wants it to be special. That he’s saving it, that first kiss, for the right time. The right moment.
I’ve never known any man to do that, especially not a man like Liam—wealthy, violent, powerful. A man who can have and take anything he wants.