Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
What the actual fuck is happening to me? I throw the phone on the floor and curl up in the bed.
My parents are in a quadrople. They’re flying to Paris, on a private plane, and my mom couldn’t even send me fifty bucks like she promised. Meanwhile, I’m in a room I can’t afford, my apartment is a blackened, charred wreck, and I don’t know where I’m going to sleep tomorrow.
There’s a loud knock at the door. I shoot up, leaping to my feet.
Champagne. French fries.
I’m such a mess, but at least there’s champagne. At least there are fries. I’m already mentally ordering a second bottle as I yank open the door—
To find one of the Crowley brothers from back in Boston standing on the threshold.
“Hello, Mrs. Kane,” he says, his face strangely deadpan. “My name is Liam Crowley. I was wondering if we could have a conversation.”
Chapter 8
Fiona
Liam Crowley.
The one that pulled the gun on me for the crime of interrupting a meeting.
I’ll never forget that cold, dead stare. He brushes past me before I can say yes or no. I stand there in shock, not sure what to do, fear ringing down my spine. My mother’s forgotten, Cait’s forgotten. All I can think of is the offer Gareth made me, and suddenly I wish I had accepted.
“What can I do for you, uh, Mr. Crowley?” I squeak, feeling very small.
“Liam,” he says, pausing in the little sitting room attached to the bedroom. “I had such a nice meeting with your husband that I thought I’d fly down here and give him the good news myself. We’re thinking about hiring him on as our full-time attorney.”
“That’s… fantastic.” I let the door shut. Although I want to keep it open. That way, someone might hear me scream while Liam murders me. I plaster a smile on my face and clasp my hands in front of my lap. “He’s very good at his job, isn’t he?”
“So they say.” Liam tilts his head, studying me the way his father did in that back room. It’s such a disconcerting look that I have to glance away as a shiver runs down my spine.
This is the brother that pulled the gun. I remember it clearly, in detail. The weapon was aimed at my face, held steady. No emotion in his eyes, none at all. He would’ve shot me in the head, murdered me then and there if his father had told him to, I don’t doubt it for a second.
This man is a killer. I’m not sure how I know, but I feel it in my bones.
I have to be careful.
“Gareth isn’t here,” I say quickly as he glances toward the bedroom. Please don’t go in there. If he checks inside, he’ll only find one bag, one set of women’s clothing. It’ll be obvious I’m not saying with Gareth, and that’ll only raise questions.
“That’s okay, I can wait.” He drifts toward the couch. “I recall you had a problem. Is everything resolved?”
“Not exactly,” I say, opting for honesty. “We had an apartment. The building burned down.”
Liam shows nothing. No reaction at all. “That’s a shame. How’d it happen?”
“I don’t know. We’re still trying to figure that out.”
“Did you lose everything?”
“Almost everything, yes.”
“Pity.” He sits in a chair. “That’s what I like about fires though. They don’t care who you are. How much money you have. Who you work for. They burn and burn, indiscriminate.”
“That’s one way of looking at them, I guess.” What a fucking creep. I glance toward the phone, praying for Gareth to call, but why would he? I told him in no uncertain terms that I wouldn’t accept his offer. I’m not going to do this fake relationship thing for real.
But I can’t tell Liam Crowley that. Not with the dead look in his eyes. The way he doesn’t seem to have any pity at all inside that cold body of his.
The weirdo probably gets off on apartment fires all the time.
“Where is your husband, Mrs. Kane?”
“Call me Fiona. And he’s working. I think he’s with a client right now.”
“How long will he be?”
“I don’t know. It could be a while.”
He grunts, frowning. “Was it your idea to elope to Vegas?”
I’m taken aback by the abrupt question. “Uh, I don’t—”
“Or was that Gareth? You don’t seem like the Vegas type, but I could be wrong.” He narrows his gaze, staring at my tank top and shorts, the only comfies I brought with me to Boston. The only comfies I have left. I feel suddenly naked in front of him. “How did you two meet?”
“In a bar,” I blurt out.
“Romantic.”
“We clicked immediately. He bought me drinks. Too many drinks.”
“Was he trying to get you drunk?” Liam’s eyebrows raise.
“Probably! But he was a gentleman. Didn’t even kiss me for weeks.” What the hell am I doing right now? Making up an entire fake dating timeline? Gareth is going to stab me. After Liam stabs me first.