Wicked Heart (2 page)

Whatever the reason, what’s done is done. I can’t go back and change things. But I can make sure Liam Quinn never gets the chance to fool me again.

Three Weeks Later

Pier 23 Rehearsal Rooms

New York City

I hear a barrage of screams. Either Liam and Angel have just arrived, or hundreds of people are being tortured right outside the building.

My pulse kicks into overdrive, and I take a deep breath as I remind myself to stay cool. I just need to detach my emotions. Compartmentalize. It’s usually my
specialty.

Not today.

Knowing he’s near, my dormant romantic fantasies spark like half-lit fireworks, threatening to ignite all over again.

The screams downstairs get louder. They do nothing to help my state of mind.

I cross the rehearsal room and look out the window onto the street below. Sure enough, down on the pavement is a huge crowd of salivating women, and a few men. Climbing out of a black Escalade
in front of them is the object of millions of sexual fantasies. My heart rate speeds up as the tall man with the perfect physique smiles and waves at his fans. He looks good. Better than he has any
right to.

His sandy-brown hair is artfully tousled, and although a lot of men spend ages trying to emulate the look, what they don’t realize is that Liam rolls out of bed like that. It only adds to
his sex appeal. Any man who naturally looks like he’s just gone ten rounds in the sack gets top spot on the hotness meter. His high cheekbones and square jaw bump him up even higher, and
that’s before we even make it to his lips and eyes. I thank the gods his crazy-beautiful blue-green eyes are hidden behind sunglasses, and that I’m too far away to get the full effect
of the rest of his face.

Pity I can’t say the same thing about his body.

I’ve never met anyone with a body like Liam’s. It’s my definition of perfection. Every muscle is defined and sculpted but not huge or bulky. Broad shoulders and a narrow waist.
The best butt I’ve ever laid eyes on.

I didn’t know I had a thing for muscles before I met Liam, but boy, I know now.

His T-shirt pulls tight across his shoulders as he reaches into the Escalade and helps a statuesque redhead out of the car.

Angel Bell. Beauty queen, socialite, fashion maven, and Hollywood princess. Daughter of Senator Cyrus Bell, and sister of award-winning journalist Tori Bell.

Josh appears beside me. “Angeeeeeeel,” he whispers in a reverent tone. “Leave that muscled loser and let me love you. We’d make beautiful babies.”

“Oh, ew,” I say.

Josh leans closer to the windows to get a better look. “So you’re allowed to lust after Mr. Tall-and-Ripped but I can’t have an innocent crush on lovely Leggy
McRedhead?”

“Josh, none of your crushes are innocent.”

He chuckles. “Okay, fine. I want to do bad things to her. But can you blame me? I want to wrap those long legs around me and make her mewl like a kitten.”

“Isn’t she a bit vanilla for your tastes?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. She seems like a perfectly nice girl.”

“Exactly. You don’t date nice girls.”

Josh has a thing for actresses. More specifically, wildly ambitious actresses who are two neuroses short of batshit crazy. His girlfriends tend to have a lot in common with Broadway shows:
They’re always high maintenance and filled with drama.

“You’re right,” he says. “I usually prefer girls who challenge me.”

“You say ‘challenge,’ and I hear ‘scare the crap out of.’ ”

“That reminds me—tell me again why you and I have never dated?”

“Because we made out that one time in sophomore year and both thought it was weird as hell.”

“Well, you thought that. I was into it.”

“Oh, please.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Elissa, I don’t know whether you realize this, but you are a smoking-hot female specimen. Yes, I’m your best friend, but I’m also a
man. Kissing a chick who looks like Scarlett Johansson’s younger sister is going to give me masculine stirrings. Have no doubt.”

I laugh. I really don’t want to hear about his stirrings, masculine or otherwise. Josh is like my brother. Well, a brother I get along with.

I pat his arm. “Okay, let’s drop the subject. We’re on the clock now. Professional faces, please.”

He nods. “But just to be clear, I can tell you my pornographic fantasies when we get home, right?”

“If you must.”

I turn back to the windows to see Angel stumble in her heels. When Liam pulls her tight against him with a look of concern, the whole crowd
“awwws”
before getting back to
their dedicated screaming.

“I love you, Liam!”

“Sign my arm!”

“Marry me! Pleeeeease!”

“Angel, you’re beautiful!”

They’re right about that. She really is beautiful. While I’m five-three and curvy, she’s tall, svelte, and elegant. My hair is blond and shoulder-length, hers is long, auburn,
and looks like she should be appearing in a shampoo commercial. My eyes are basic blue, hers are a striking green. The only thing I have over her is my boobs. Hers may defy gravity, but mine are
real.

I grudgingly admit I understand what Liam sees in her. She’s far more in his league than I ever was. Their children will be so genetically blessed they’ll probably develop
superpowers.

I watch as Liam and Angel continue to sign autographs and pose for pictures. Every action is accompanied by frenzied squeals. I wonder what it must be like to star in something as huge as
Rageheart
and have millions of fans all over the world. Liam’s portrayal of the passionate, mostly shirtless demon Zan, who leads a slave uprising and falls in love with the seraph
king’s daughter, has ignited countless pairs of panties. I think it’s safe to say he’s the biggest movie star in the world right now.

“Dammit,” Josh says. “Does the chiseled Adonis really have to taint my wife-to-be’s lips like that? It’s gross.”

He’s referring to Liam’s planting of a soft kiss on Angel’s mouth as she leans against him. The bunch of paparazzi that were already snapping up a storm go into a frenzy.
Nothing sells more magazines or gets more Web site clicks than pictures of Liam and Angel demonstrating their Epic Love. No doubt an explosion of dollar signs just flashed before the paps’
eyes.

Marco comes to my other side and peers down. “That ‘grossness,’ dear Joshua, is what we’re banking on. Liam and Angel’s rabid fan base will make sure our production
is the hottest ticket on Broadway for months. Mark my words.”

Josh nods. “Unless, of course, she recognizes her overwhelming attraction to me during rehearsals, and breaks up with him before we open.”

Marco looks like a vampire who’s been burnt by holy water. “Don’t even joke about that. Any rift between these two would mean disaster for our sales, which is why we must
handle both of them with kid gloves. Remember, they’re used to everyone kissing their backsides, so pucker up, kids.”

I sigh. I remember a night when I kissed Liam’s backside. And his front side. And all the parts in between. The memories are so vivid, it’s as if it happened yesterday.

I seriously consider if it’s too late to resign.

Marco puts his arms around me. “Can you feel it, Elissa?”

Yes. Nausea. Anxiety. An overwhelming urge to rush out and buy a one-way ticket to Nepal.

I give him a wan smile. “Oh, I feel it.”

“Theatrical greatness, dear girl. We’re about to create it. Thank you for being my right-hand woman. I couldn’t do this without you.”

So, that’s a no to Nepal, I guess.

I give him a squeeze and then go back to the production desk. My section is impeccably laid out. Script. Pencils. A rainbow of high-lighter pens.

I’m ready.

I’m ready.

I’m ready.

I put my hands on my hips and sigh.

Nope. Not buying it. Screw you, positive thinking. Of all the days to let me down.

When I hear chatter in the hallway, I tense up. Liam’s deep voice carries through the walls and vibrates into my body.

“Lissa?” I turn to find Josh looking at me with concern. “You know that not breathing is bad for your health, right? Please chill.”

I blow out a breath and nod. “Sure.” I roll my neck and it cracks. “I’m good. Bring it on.”

“ ‘Atta girl.”

As our tiny tall-haired publicist, Mary, sweeps into the room with the stars, I half hide myself behind Josh. Subjecting only part of my body to the full force of Liam’s presence seems
like the sensible thing to do.

“And this is our production team,” Mary says. “Of course, you know our director, Marco. I believe he’s spoken to you on the phone.”

Marco smiles and shakes their hands. “Delighted to meet you both in person. Welcome.”

Mary points to the quivering black girl by the windows. “Over there is our production intern, Denise.” Denise melts into the floorboards when Liam smiles at her. I think her crush on
him rivals my own.

“And here’s our choreographer, Martin.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Martin says, barely sparing Angel a glance before holding on to Liam’s hand for several seconds too long for it to be anything but creepy.

“And last but not least, our illustrious stage management team, Joshua Kane and—”

“Elissa Holt.” Liam says my name as if I’m some sort of mythical being he never expected to encounter. I try to keep my smile steady as he blinks in surprise.
“You’re our stage manager?”

I nod. “Yes. Hello, Mr. Quinn. Good to see you again. And it’s nice to meet you, Miss Bell.” I hold my hand out to Angel. “Please let either me or Josh know if you need
anything.”

Angel takes my hand and tilts her head at me. “You and Liam know each other?”

Her suspicion is clear. I go into evasive maneuvers. “Not really. Josh and I worked on Mr. Quinn’s first Broadway show, many years ago. He just has a good memory.”

She relaxes a little and gives me a smile. “He does. Sometimes I envy it. Especially his ability to learn lines.”

I glance at Liam to find him staring at me. I can’t decipher his expression. Anger? Bewilderment? A bit of both? There’s a heat in his gaze that makes me think he’s not
entirely unhappy to see me, and I fluctuate in deciding whether or not that’s a good thing.

Josh steps up beside me. “Hi, Mr. Quinn,” he says as he clasps Liam’s hand. “Welcome back to New York.”

Liam gives him a quick smile. “Josh. Hey. How’ve you been, man?”

“Not as good as you, Mr. Hollywood. Congrats on all the stardom and adulation, dude.”

A wry grin lifts Liam’s lips. “Yeah, well, it’s not as much fun as it seems. Believe me.”

Liam glances at me, and when Josh moves over to talk to Angel, I offer my hand. Liam looks at me for a moment before he grasps it. Then he steps forward and towers over me as his fingers curl
around mine, warm and electric. I try to hide the shudder that runs through me. No one needs to know what a single touch from this man can do to me. Especially not him.

I plaster on a smile as the heat of his skin sinks into my bones. “We’re thrilled to have you and your fiancée starring in our show, Mr. Quinn. I’m sure it’s going
to be a huge hit.”

“God, Elissa, I . . .” His fingers tighten, and I shiver as he rubs his thumb over my knuckles. He looks down at our hands and then back up to my face. “I’m a bit lost
for words here. Seeing you again is . . .”

I wait for him to finish the sentence, but he seems to be struggling to express himself.

By now, my hand is burning, so I pull it back and try to swallow around my too-thick tongue. “It must be nice to be back in New York. I understand you haven’t been home for a
while.”

He fixes me with those incredible aqua eyes. His expression seems way too intimate, considering how long it’s been since we’ve seen each other, not to mention that his fiancée
is standing right next to him. He catches himself staring and clears his throat. “Uh . . . no. I haven’t been home for a long time. Too long. Every day I’ve been away, I’ve
missed it.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else when the rest of the cast starts arriving.

Thank God.

I use the distraction to move away. It’s not easy. I feel like a spaceship escaping the inexorable pull of a black hole.

As people fill the room, I go on autopilot. I sign people in, hand out information sheets and rehearsal schedules, and busy myself dealing with anyone who isn’t Liam.

It doesn’t escape my attention that an hour later when we’re ready to begin rehearsals, Liam still seems shell-shocked by my presence.

There’s an air of excitement in the room as Marco talks the cast through his ideas for the show. Everyone listens and nods, and most people jot notes onto their scripts.
Liam, however, isn’t holding a script, but leaning forward and frowning in concentration.

He has an energy about him these days that’s new. Sort of an aggressive simmer, like there’s a dark cloud following him around, drawing down his brows and putting tension in his jaw.
I know it’s become part of his sex appeal, but I’m intrigued to know what’s causing it.

He sits next to Angel without touching her. In fact, when she leans over to whisper something in his ear, a flash of irritation passes over his face before he pulls away. Angel looks around to
see if anyone noticed. When she glances in my direction, I diplomatically go back to tapping notes into my laptop.

It’s heartening to know they’re not always as blissful as they seem in their pictures. It makes them seem more human.

I can’t even imagine what it must be like to be engaged to the world’s most lusted-after man. It’s no secret that Angel regularly receives death threats and abuse on social
media from Liam’s more rabid admirers. If I were her, I’d be paranoid as hell, but she always seems perky and upbeat. It must be exhausting to stay as positive and put-together as she
does. Even when she’s caught exiting a spin class, she looks like she’s just stepped out of the pages of a glamorous fitness magazine.