But Charles nods. “They need alone time.” The twinkle in the older man’s eyes makes me want to die of mortification.
Margaret’s lips press together, but she rises gracefully. “Of course. We’ll have you both for a proper dinner soon. When you’re more settled.”
Was this a casual five-course meal in her mind?
The goodbyes are a blur of air-kisses and promises to do this again soon.
Margaret hugs me one more time. “Take care of him,” she murmurs against my ear. Charles shakes my hand with a grip that could crush walnuts.
Then we’re out the door, into the crisp night air, and I can finally breathe.
We get into Liam’s car. He starts the engine, and the silence stretches as we pull away from the mansion.
“It went well,” he says as we merge onto the main road. “You were great.”
I slump in the passenger seat, my head falling back against the headrest. “That felt like walking a tightrope while juggling knives.”
“You looked natural.” He glances over at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “Almost like you didn’t want to throttle me.”
“I’m a talented actress,” I mutter, but my heart gives a stupid little flutter at his praise. I hate that I want more of it. That his approval is a drug.
“You are,” he agrees in a whisper.
We don’t speak for the rest of the ride. Liam drives competently, one hand resting on the wheel, maneuvering the car with a casual skill that is annoyingly sexy. He keeps to the speed limit this time—no reckless racing, no banking turns.
Dark trees blur past as the adrenaline crash drains the last strength from my limbs. I’m content to sit in silence and let the motion of the car soothe my frayed nerves.
When we arrive at Liam’s glass house—it still feels more like an Apple store than a home—my second-hand Hyundai is in the driveway, and the foyer is a mess.
Boxes are stacked along one wall, and portable racks of clothes crowd the entryway—my clothes.
It’s my entire life, packed up and transported in just a few hours. Yesterday, these clothes hung in Matt’s closet. Now they’re waiting to be sorted into a new existence I hadn’t planned on living.
“Ah, your things came,” Liam says unnecessarily.
“Yeah, I see. Did Matt give your guy any trouble?”
Liam checks his phone and raises an eyebrow. “Your ex threw a little tantrum, but we had the legal high ground. This stuff is yours; he can’t hold it ransom.” He locks eyes with me and smirks. “We got everything, including the wine opener.”
“Whoa,” I breathe, stepping around a stack of shoe boxes. “You really get things done.”
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” Liam says, closing the front door.
I don’t know why that statement sounds so hot, but between the touching, the competent driving, and now this, I can’t get away from him fast enough.
“I’m too exhausted to sort this now,” I say.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll have someone help you organize everything tomorrow.”
Yes, he has “people.” Employees who even Matt can’t bully. This is really how the other half lives. If Matt is in the 1 percent, Liam is in the fraction of a percent above that.
I scan the boxes until I find one labeled in unfamiliar handwriting: UNDERWEAR/PAJAMAS. The thought of some stranger sorting through my most intimate clothes makes my own skin feel like a rented suit, but I’m more glad to have my stuff than prickly about how it got delivered.
“I just need this.” I grab the box and turn to Liam. “Where’s my room?”
The confident ease drains from Liam’s face.
He scratches his nape, lowering his gaze to the floor. “Yeah. About that.”