His Property (Book Four) Read online

“She’s just worried about me.” I took in a deep breath, my next words coming out in a rush. “And there’s something else. One of our classmates, this girl named Jodi Benson, saw you pushing me into your car the other night.”

  I expected some kind of reaction. Fear, nervousness, anxiety, frenzied phone calls to high-powered lawyers. But I should have known better. Instead, Liam just shrugged. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about that.”

  “What if she calls the police?”

  “Then I’ll probably be arrested.” He shrugged again, like being arrested for kidnapping was no big deal instead of a felony that could lead to decades in jail.

  “Liam!”

  “What? I’m guilty, aren’t I?”

  “No. I mean, yes, but…” I felt a lump in my throat as tears pricked the back of my eyes, hating myself for the confusion that swirled through me. Liam was right. He’d kidnapped me. How could I want to be with him? Was I insane?

  Seeing that I was upset, he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting in equal parts concern and concentration. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s just like you said. If she’s going to say something, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “What about Maddie?” Liam said. “What if I meet her when we get back to New York? A dinner? For all three of us, anywhere you want.”

  “Really? You’d…I mean, you’re willing to meet her?”

  “Of course I want to meet her.” His words were forceful, but his tone not so much. He reached his hand out and took mine, his fingers intertwining us together. “Isn’t that what couples do?” He sounded almost unsure if it was what couples do, as if he were asking me if what he was saying was right.

  “Yes,” I said, loving the way it sounded on his lips, that we were a couple, that we were together. “Have you ever met a girlfriend’s friends before?” I asked.

  “No.” He shook his head and pulled away from me, pulling a bottle of water out from the tiny compartment on the side of the door. He took a long sip. “Not unless you count Vienna.”

  So.

  That settled it.

  They’d been together.

  Of course I’d known this.

  All the signs were there. London Banks being jealous of her. The way Vienna Had been talking to Liam last night. You didn’t inspire those kind of reactions or conversations with someone who you didn’t have a romantic history with.

  But to hear come right out of his mouth, to hear her name on his lips, was something else entirely.

  I wanted to press him, wanted to ask how long they’d been together, why they’d broken up, if she wanted him back and that was why she’d come to see him last night. But as soon as Liam had made the revelation, he’d stayed true to form and retreated again, opening his computer and resuming his heavy typing, rolling more calls, his voice hard and steely as he ordered people around and worked on deals worth more money than I’d probably make in my entire lifetime, let alone in one transaction.

  I tried to relax, to stare out the window and watch as California flew by – tried to appreciate the palm trees, the clean lines of the architecture, everything so light and bright and clean, unlike New York, where everything seemed dark and heavy.

  But I couldn’t help thinking about the two of them.

  Vienna wrapped around him, her long legs encasing his waist.

  Liam kissing her the way he kissed me.

  His hands moving on her body.

  How different she must feel from me, her limbs long and taut, her stomach flat, her breasts the perfect size.

  I wanted more than anything to google her, to see if there was anything I could find out about her and the relationship she’d had with Liam. But I knew that would be unacceptable. Yes, I had my phone back, but Liam would have access to anything I looked at, and I knew that googling him and Vienna would earn me a punishment even worse than what he’d done to me the night before.

  The limo pulled up in front of the Palm Bay Yacht and Golf Club, and the driver opened the door for Liam, who in turn stepped out and held his hand out to me, guiding me out of the car.

  As soon as I stepped out, everything came into focus, sharp and bright, a startling contrast from seeing everything through the tinted windows of the limo. The sky was a beautiful blue, the air crisp with the scent of saltwater, the soft swishing of the palm trees adding to the feel of summer and sand and fun.

  The club itself was ornate and impressive, a massive clean white building that was designed to look like a cross between an old school Southern mansion and a modern, elegant hotel. Huge pillars flocked the entrance, and the entire lobby was made of glass, so that you could see all the way out through the other side of the club, where sunlight sparkled and danced off the ocean.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said.

  “Yes, it is.” Liam’s gaze slid up and down my body, and my cheeks warmed under the attention. I was dressed casually in a pair of black yoga pants and a long-sleeved gray t-shirt, my hair scraped back into a ponytail. “But not as beautiful as you,” he whispered in my ear. His hand encircled my waist and slid up to the small of my back as he kissed me softly.

  A porter appeared seemingly from nowhere, whisking us into the hotel, which was even more impressive inside, with the massive ocean views to the north and the rolling hills of the golf course to the south.

  “Checking into the executive suite,” Liam told the woman at the front desk, and a moment later, we were being handed a key card and stepping into a private elevator which zoomed us up to the top of the club.

  The doors opened out directly into our suite, which took up the whole floor and was decorated all in white.

  White linens, billowy white curtains, a white braided throw rug in front of a white stone fireplace. The only touches of color were the rustic gray wood floors, and a huge green blue stone vase that stood in the middle of the room.

  There was a full kitchen with white marble countertops, and a sitting room with upholstered white furniture. The tops of the end tables matched the white marble of the kitchen, and magazines and books were placed artistically around the room, all of them with white covers and spines.

  Liam moved to the back of the suite and opened the sliding doors, which gave us a sweeping view of the ocean before us. Steps led down from the balcony to a private stone patio, with an infinity pool and a hot tub.

  “Jesus,” I murmured. I’d never even conceived of such a place, much less expected to be staying at one.

  “Nice, isn’t it?” Liam said, as if he were studying an abstract painting in a museum.

  “Nice? It’s amazing.” I turned to look at him and realized he was watching me, and not the view. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He shrugged. “I just like watching you experience things for the first time.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re used to this.”

  He shrugged again.

  “How? I mean, it’s breathtaking.” The ocean breeze began to move through the suite through the open doors, fluttering the curtains and deepening the sensory experience.

  “It’s not a matter of getting used to something, Emery. It’s a matter of knowing that beautiful things don’t necessarily change one’s circumstances.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, frowning at the way he talked in half-cloaked rhetoric and dark phrases.

  He shook his head. “I’m going to go work out before tee time.”

  “Tee time?”

  “Yes.” He moved close to me and pressed his lips to my forehead. “That’s what they call it when you tee off on the golf course.”

  I swallowed. “And your parents will be there?”

  “Yes.” He nodded.

  “Your mother and your father?”

  “That’s usually what one is talking about when the words ‘parents’ are involved, yes,” he said, sounding amused as he lowered his mouth to the spot right beneath my ear.

  His
lips felt amazing on my skin and I felt my body immediately begin to melt into his, my hips tilting in toward him, my skin flushing, my pulse leaping. How could this be bad? How could this feeling that he drew out of me be bad? How could a man who made me feel this way be bad?

  “What will I wear golfing?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” he said. “You’ll golf naked.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “There are golf clothes in your bag.”

  “Okay.” I swallowed as he pushed my hair back from my neck slowly. A strong breeze kicked up from the ocean right at that moment, and skated over my skin, cooling it before Liam’s warm lips brushed against the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck.

  “And will I … will there be hair and makeup?” I asked, trying my best to hold onto my composure, to not moan in the middle of a conversation.

  “Tevi and Marnie are in the hotel and on call,” he said, grabbing my hips and pulling me against his torso.

  The blood rushed between my legs as I felt how hard his cock was.

  “But you look so gorgeous like this,” he said. “Just natural. Exactly how you looked that first night I met you.”

  He titled his pelvis further into mine, and now his hands were skating under the waistband of my pants, and he began to tug them down a tiny bit in the back.

  “Liam,” I said, reaching for his hands. I knew no one could see us all the way up here, but I couldn’t be sure. The beach below us was dotted with brightly colored umbrellas and people walking hand-in-hand along the shore. They were far enough away that I was almost sure they couldn’t see us, but still.

  “I say when,” he reminded me, removing my hands from his and placing them on the railing. “I say how. And I say where.”

  He tugged my pants down further. The material was soft but my ass was still sore from the spanking he’d given me yesterday, not to mention the fucking, and I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth as pain sparked and burned inside of me.

  “Does it still hurt?” he whispered.

  I nodded. “A little.”

  “Good.”

  His words along with his devilish look on his face made me moan.

  He went to lower his mouth to mine, but just as his lips brushed against me, a vibrating noise came from his pocket.

  He stepped away from me and pulled out his phone. I caught a glimpse of the caller ID – his mother.

  “Yes?” he barked, sounding like he was talking to a business associate instead of the woman who’d given birth to him. “Yes, we just got here.” He listened to whatever she was saying on the other end of the line, and his face darkened, his brows knitting together in annoyance. “Tee time is at one o’clock…I don’t care that no one golfs that late, obviously it’s not true, or they wouldn’t have scheduled us at one o’clock… I don’t know what to tell you, I guess you’ll have to wear sunscreen… We will meet you down there then.”

  He hung up the phone, and walked back into the room, tossing his cell onto the bed.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “Yes. My mother just likes to have everything her way.”

  “Sounds familiar,” I teased, before I could stop myself.

  He stared at me for a long moment, and I saw something in the expression on his face, something that let me know I’d disappointed him by comparing him to his mother. “Liam – ”

  “I’m going to work out,” he said, cutting me off as he crossed the room to his suitcase and began to rummage through his clothes. He made no move back toward me, no effort to keep reminding me that he decided when, he decided how, he decided where.

  Whatever.

  If he was going to be cold and shut down, I sure as hell wasn’t going to chase after him.

  He went into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him, and emerged a few moments later in navy shorts and a grey t-shirt that clung to his biceps. He hadn’t invited me to work out with him, and I wasn’t about to ask him if I could come.

  I watched in silence as he pulled out his laptop, pulled up his email program, and sent off a quick email.

  “Be ready to golf at one,” he instructed me. And then he was gone. At least, he was before he stuck his head back into the room. “And don’t try to leave the room, Emery. There will be a guard outside to make sure.”

  The door shut again with a click.

  I sighed.

  Great.

  Now he was being all cold and shut down, right before I had to go and meet his parents. Not to mention I still had no freakin’ clue what to wear. An experimental trip through my suitcase found the promised golf attire – crisp white golf skirts and pants, shirts and gleaming white socks, all of it shrink-wrapped tightly to keep everything looking perfect.

  Was it mix and match? I wondered, staring at it carefully. And why was everything white? Was it like tennis, where you had to wear white or you weren’t taken seriously?

  And was I supposed to wear a skirt or pants? A skirt seemed like a bad idea for an athletic outing, but the thought of wearing white pants was definitely not appealing. If there was one thing I knew about fashion, it was that black was slimming and white was, well, not.

  I reached for Liam’s computer, figuring that if I was going to be left to my own devices, I’d have to google. His screen was still unlocked from when he’d just checked his email, so there wasn’t any need for a password.

  I clicked on the internet browser, where I opened a new window and entered “appropriate golf course attire.” I paused a moment, then repositioned the cursor and added “for a fancy golf course.”

  A few moments later, I felt marginally better. The clothes that had been packed for me seemed more than appropriate, although a quick search of golfing quick tips did nothing but confuse me. Apparently the game was so complicated that people spent years working on just their grip. As in, years learning just how to hold the club.

  I closed the internet browser while visions of me whacking a golf ball into the ocean -- or worse, into someone else’s head -- floated through my mind.

  The window that had been open behind my window popped up on the screen.

  It was another google screen.

  Liam’s.

  I wasn’t snooping. There was no way not to see it. In fact, I’d seen it before I even realized what it was I was looking at.

  Doctors.

  Upstate New York.

  Malpractice.

  He’d been on a law database, scrolling through cases that had taken place right around the time my mother had done what she’d done.

  He was trying to find the doctor who’d hurt me.

  I shut the computer quickly, not wanting to know what he’d found, or if he’d found anything at all.

  I jumped up and rushed to the minibar in the corner, where I grabbed a bottle of water and took a long sip. It felt good going down but did nothing to calm me down. My heart was racing, and my blood felt like it was being pulled from my limbs and rushing toward my head.

  I was dizzy, and the whiteness of the room, beautiful in its simple elegance just a few moments ago, now felt blinding and overwhelming in its starkness.

  There was a knock on the door, sharp and hard, and I jumped, the bottle of water slipping from my fingers and bouncing against the wood floor.

  “It’s fine,” a woman’s voice said from the other side of the door. “Call him if you don’t believe me. I have a key card for God’s sakes!”

  My stomach flipped as I rushed toward the front of the suite.

  The words were similar to the ones Vienna had used when she’d been trying to get on the plane. Was she back?

  I flung the door open.

  A woman stood there, but it wasn’t Vienna.

  She was older, the kind of older that was trying to look young. But you could tell her real age because of the work she’d had done to her face. It wasn’t that her face looked old, really – there were no wrinkles or anything – it was just that her lips were plumped, her face smoothed,
her cheeks rounded with that slightly swollen look you got from fillers and injections.

  She was fit and trim, and she wore a light yellow sleeveless collared golf shirt with a pair of khaki golf pants. Even though her face was wrinkle free, the rest of her skin had a slightly weathered look, tan but slightly spotty and creped.

  She turned at the sound of the door opening, her eyes lighting up when she saw me. “Emery!” she crowed. “You must be! It’s me, Annabelle!”

  The security guard, a nameless man I recognized from being stationed outside of Liam’s jet the other night, addressed me. “I’m sorry, miss. I’ll take care of her.” His face and tone were devoid of emotion, and I tried not to think about how he’d said ‘I’ll take care of her’ like Liam’s mother was some kind of political prisoner or something that was going to meet an untimely end if she wasn’t careful.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “It’s fine, this is Liam’s mother.”

  I knew it wasn’t fine, but now that she was here, in front of me, there was no way I was going to send her away. Liam had expressly forbidden me from talking to her when he wasn’t around, but this was exactly the kind of situation I’d been talking about when I’d tried to tell him just how ridiculous that rule was.

  His mother was here.

  In front of me.

  I couldn’t just ignore her, for God’s sakes. Liam might not have cared about his parents or making a good impression, but until he told me exactly why he felt that way, I did care.

  I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted his parents to like me.

  The security guard gave me a skeptical look, and his hand drifted to the waistband of his pants, like he was going to radio Liam.

  “Seriously, it’s fine,” I said, trying to sound like I was in command. I opened the door wider and motioned Annabelle inside before the guard could do or say anything else.

  I shut it quickly, waiting a beat for him to knock on the door or break it down or demand I let him in.

  After a second, there was nothing, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I turned around.

  “Thank you, Emery,” Annabelle said, rolling her eyes. There were a pair of Dolce and Gabanna sunglasses perched on the top of her head, the kind of sunglasses that were way too fancy to be wearing out on the golf course, and she pulled them off her head and slipped them into her purse, as if she was to indicate she was going to be here for a while. “Liam is so paranoid, I have no idea why he thinks he needs so much security.”