12
“Absolutely not.” Liam stood in the kitchen the following evening, arms crossed and feet planted firmly. “Not even for all the gold in King Solomon’s mine.” There was no way in hell he was going to wear the blue silk tie Cora was trying to foist on him.
“But everyone’s dressing up tonight. You’ll need this.” She held a cup of coffee in one hand and the tie in the other. Her bare feet peeked out from beneath the hem of a long bathrobe. The gala was in less than an hour, and Cora had been about to dress when she’d surprised Liam with her “gift.”
“I told you, I don’t like having things around my neck,” he growled.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said in obvious exasperation. “It’s a tie, not a noose.”
A cold chill skittered down his spine. “I appreciate the thought, but as I said before, you’ll never get that evil thing around my neck.”
“You have to,” she insisted. “It’s the dress code. Most of the men will be wearing tuxedos, and you’re only in a suit.” She looked him up and down. “It’s a really good suit, but still.”
Liam pressed his mouth into a hard line. When he woke up that morning, the black designer suit and shirt had been hanging in the closet. It fit him perfectly, as did the leather dress shoes he’d found beside the door. The angels gave him all kinds of reasons to be annoyed, but their impeccable taste in clothes was not one of them. “I won’t do it, Cora. And if it means I won’t be fit to attend, then so be it.” He glowered at her in stubborn silence.
It was a contest of wills. Neither one of them was willing to budge.
Cora let out a frustrated groan and tossed the tie on a kitchen chair. “I’m not in the mood for this. Going to this ball was your idea. If you’re too stubborn to even wear a tie—a tie that I went out of my way to buy you—then why should I bother?” She plunked her coffee cup on the table. “I think I’ll just throw on some jeans and maybe go to the movies, or take a nice scenic drive instead.”
Liam watched her storm down the hall to her bedroom. Swearing under his breath, he went to his room and slammed the door.
Angel let out a meow of protest. The cat was stretched out on Liam’s pillow, glaring at him with feline reproof.
Liam paced the room in agitation. Forget this garbage. He’d tried to get Cora and Finn together, but if she chose not to go because he refused to wear a bloody tie, then it wasn’t his fault. He rubbed his throat and sucked in a deep gulp of air. Just the thought of the fabric cinched against his skin made his hands clammy and his vision grow spotty. “Dammit all to hell,” he muttered.
“You just might,” a bored voice said from behind him.
Liam spun around to see a roiling wall of mist where his bedroom wall should have been. The blond angel stepped through the mist followed by the dark-haired one.
Liam was in no mood. “Aye, I’m well aware. But she’s stubborn as the day is long, that woman. I’ve tried to set her up with Finn, but now she says she won’t go because of a stupid necktie.”
The blond angel shrugged. “She doesn’t have to go.”
“Oh.” Liam blinked. “Good.” Now he wouldn’t have to watch Finn bumble around trying to win Cora’s attention. Maybe his argument with her tonight was a blessing in disguise. Maybe they could just spend another delightful evening watching TV together like last night.
Cora’s cat leaped off the bed and padded over to the angels. The dark-haired one held out his hands and the cat jumped into his arms, purring.
The blond angel watched this with mild disapproval, then turned his attention back to Liam. “We’ve information to relay that might be of some interest to you. A disaster will happen tonight at Margaret Brady’s house. Cora is going to die there.”
Liam’s head snapped up, his heart thumping. “Die?”
“Unless,” the angel continued, “she goes to the gala with Finn, as planned.”
“I thought you said she didn’t have to go,” Liam said, struggling to keep his voice down.
“Well, she doesn’t,” the blond angel said coolly. “I suppose that’s up to you.”
Liam let out a growl of frustration, his mind reeling with thoughts of Cora dying in some horrible way. Earthquakes. Gunfights. Explosions. “What’s going to happen at Margaret’s house?” he demanded. “What kind of disaster?”
“Irrelevant.” The angels floated backward and began to fade into the mist.
“Wait!” Liam moved toward the mist and shoved against it. It stretched like a rubber band, then bounced back.
They were gone, but the blond angel’s voice could still be heard, echoing from very far away. “It’s a simple course of action, rogue. Either ensure Cora’s safety by seeing that she goes with Finn tonight, or she will end up dead like she has in every lifetime, and your task will be over. It’s your choice.”
Liam clenched his hands into fists, breathing shakily. Like hell it was a choice.
Right before the mist solidified, a pair of arms poked through to place Cora’s cat back on the floor. The feline gave a lazy yawn, unbothered by the fact that he’d just straddled the line between this world and the next.