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Chapter 39
Brioni
Antoine finishes my wedding gown with more than a week to spare.
“This lily is officially gilded,” he announces, arranging my train to fan out just so.
I beam at my reflection in the trifold mirror. If I look beautiful now, then I’ll look even better on Liam’s arm as he walks me back down the aisle, showing me off as his.
You’ll be an incredible wife for Liam.
He and I haven’t talked about it, whether this arrangement of ours could become something more. But the potential for it has been roaring between us. We could be Liam and Brioni, forever. We could be real.
My best friend and I are going to be married in the eyes of the law. And then, it’ll be up to us whether we consummate our union, solidify it into something unbreakable. I bite my lip at the very thought.
The way he knows my body, and the way he can be… rough brings its own thrill, so similar to the rush of danger I felt when I’d almost overturned the car. I love Liam, and I like his danger. I’m even starting to like his violence.
As Antoine returns my gown to its dress form, and Gus stands stoic as ever, I fidget at my sewing machine. I feel like a ball of energy these days, ready to explode if I sit still for too long. Before, I could find peace at my workstation, in the whir of the needle or even by gazing down at the rug with its forest scene. Now, when I look at that deer and her wolf, I want to bound through the trees like she would. I want to sprint along the lakeshore with Liam.
I want to do everything with him, everything for him. Support his every responsibility, the way he’s always supported me. We’ll bolster each other, an equal pair, even if our day-to-day lives will be starkly different. I won’t have to involve myself in that side of his business—I’ll simply be there for Liam after the burdens of his dirty work.
As I feed the hem of a client’s pantsuit through my sewing machine, I watch my fingers around the rapid needle, my attention on safety. But as I finish the stitch, I notice my hands against the fabric itself, a pristine white wool.
What if I got my hands dirty for Liam’s sake? He won’t let me do anything that puts me in danger, but there must be other ways for me to help, methods that could still give me that little thrill.
I glance over at Gus, but he’s stone-faced. I’m not going to ask him to let me do anything unsanctioned again, however curious I am. I purse my lips against a smile as I trim off the excess thread. Since when do I seek out danger?
Since Liam first made love to me.
The answer comes so suddenly that I nearly drop my thread snippers. It was the thrill of being with my best friend, of breaking that final barrier between us, that made me want to break other barriers. I let my whole body shiver as I think about it.
When we close up shop at the end of the long day, it’s well after dark. Antoine, Gus, and I don our coats to go outside, and I realize something—I haven’t felt my scalp prickling the past few days.
Since the morning Liam came over with pancake mix, my less-than-trusty instincts haven’t been going haywire. My worry about Harrison’s physical presence has ebbed away without my noticing. And since he hasn’t been freezing my phone with his creepy messages, I’d forgotten about him entirely. For days.
That morning with Liam marked a change between us, the start of the possibility of us being real. And because of that, it’s like my subconscious knew that I didn’t have to worry anymore.
Chapter 40
Liam
I did what I had to. And I’m fucking proud of it.
With the morning sun weak as shit behind the clouds, I thunder up the walkway to the recruits’ house. I don’t knock. I’m the fucking boss. I try the handle, but it’s locked. I’m about to kick down the door when it swings open.
It’s Rabbit. He stands to attention as soon as he sees me. His black eye is fully healed, but it wasn’t that much of a bruise to begin with. It’s not nearly as bad as what I should’ve given him.
“Sir.” He clicks his heels together like it’s the goddamn academy.
“At ease, soldier.” I almost roll my eyes as I shove past him.
In the living room, a couple of the other recruits are scrambling to tidy up. There’s takeout containers and game controllers. But no visible beer bottles, no smell of weed. I’ll have to commend Finn and Peter for the boys’ improvement.
Or maybe I should commend myself. I’m the one who sent Rabbit home with a mild black eye and a story to tell. A message to the others—what happens when there’s even a whiff of suspicion about you.
They line up without being told. Connor’s ugly mug is glowering, as ever. The twat must’ve taken extra issue with Rabbit’s weak bruise. If he’s smart, he’ll learn from his friend’s mistake. Problem is, he’s not that smart.
“You.” I point to Connor like I don’t know his name. “With me.”
