Wicked Heart (27 page)

“Liam.” There’s barely any noise. Just air. He kisses my neck. Nibbles and sucks. I arch and grip him tighter. “Stop. We can’t.” I put my hands on his chest
and push. He’s so solid, I’m sure he barely feels it. He kisses me again, but I pull back and hold his face away from me. “Liam, stop.”

He tightens his arms around me as he pants into my skin. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t prepared. You still feel so perfect. More perfect than I remembered.”

“Put me down. Please.” I’m trembling with frustration that my heart still claims him as mine even though he’s not. It’s trying to convince me that he still loves
me, but how can he? After everything he’s put me through, he can’t. This isn’t love. It’s lust. And weakness.

He lowers me to my feet, then cups my face in his hands. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to go,” I say as I turn toward the end of the alley.

“Liss, wait.” He grabs my arm but I pull free.

“No, Liam. What the hell are we doing? Pretending we can be together? This isn’t a movie. It’s my life. And I’m not a goddamn consolation prize.”

He exhales and takes a step back, his jaw tight and his hands fisted. “I’ve never thought of you as a consolation prize.”

“You said you didn’t want to be one of those assholes who thinks he can have it all, but that’s how you’re acting. You can’t have me
and
Angel. You just
can’t.”

“Then I’ll end things with Angel.”

My stomach drops. “What?”

He steps forward and takes my hands. “I know the timing sucks, and I’m about six years too late, but . . .” The determination in his expression is unmistakable. “I want
to be with you. Wait, that’s not right. I
need
to be with you.”

I push wet hair away from my face. “Liam, you’ve been drinking—”

“I’m not drunk. I’m actually thinking clearly for the first time in years. There are so many reasons I shouldn’t even be thinking about this. Jesus, more than you could
possibly know, but still—”

“Well, now you’re really selling it.”

He takes a breath and lets it out, then fixes me with a determined gaze. “I know I’m not saying the right things, but . . . God, Liss, I can’t live without you anymore, and
I’m tired of pretending that I can.”

Despite the cold rain drenching every inch of skin, warm hope blossoms in my stomach—followed closely by a sick sense of dread. Now he wants me? He’s had years to do this and he
hasn’t. I can’t help feeling like I’m an excuse to escape all the things in his life that aren’t working.

“Liam, you’re dealing with a lot of stuff right now. Rehearsals, a TV show, your wedding. Not to mention the anniversary of your brother’s death. Then, to top it all off, you
have paps stalking your every move. I understand that you’re feeling . . . fragile . . . or whatever, and I’m here to support you however I can, but this—?”

“You think I’m saying this because I’m . . . what, stressed? Having some sort of breakdown? Jesus, Liss, no.”

“I think if you truly couldn’t live without me, you’d have found that out years ago, and yet this is the first I’m hearing of it.” I try to keep the bitterness out
of my tone, but I can’t. “I heard nothing from you, Liam. Not a text, or e-mail. Not a goddamn word.”

“You don’t know the whole story, and I can’t tell you everything now. But can you honestly say you don’t want more after that kiss? Because I sure as hell
can’t.”

I let out a short, sarcastic laugh. “This is insane!” I don’t realize how much panic has leaked into my voice until I see the hurt on his face.

He doesn’t let go of my hands, but his grip loosens. “Why are you fighting this? I thought this is what you wanted. Me.
Us.
”

I want to say I don’t, because that’s the less scary option, but I can’t. Of course this is what I want. It’s what I’ve always wanted. But it doesn’t feel
real. Or right. I’m used to wanting Liam, but having him is another matter. Even now, despite all his declarations, I don’t see how it’s possible. It’s like we’re at
opposite ends of a maze, and he’s saying he can see the exit while I’m still staring at a dead end.

I watch water run down his chest, and clench my jaw against the hopelessness I feel.

He cups my face with both hands and forces me to look up at him. “Liss, the night you went dress shopping with Angel, you sobbed in my arms because I was marrying someone else, and that
slayed me. I didn’t realize how much my actions have hurt you, and every day I stay with Angel, I hurt you more. I can’t keep doing it. I won’t.”

“Liam, you’re talking about turning your whole world upside down.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should. Angel—”

“Will be better off without me. She might not see it like that at first, but eventually she will. She deserves someone who can love her as much as I lo—”

I put my hand over his mouth. “Don’t say it. Please.”

He kisses my palm before pulling my hand away. “It’s true. Why not say it?”

“Because if you do, I’m going to do things I’ll regret, and I’m trying to be the voice of reason here.” I wipe water o my face and sigh. “Please don’t
make this decision now. Not in the heat of the moment. Go home. Cool off. Then, tomorrow, if you haven’t changed your mind—”

He steps forward. “I’m not going to change my mind. That would imply being with you is a choice. It’s not. I’ve tried to forget about you. To stay away from you. Every
single time, I’ve failed. You know that. Fighting what I feel for you is exhausting, and I can’t do it anymore. But the big question is, do you want this?” He takes my hand and
weaves his fingers through mine, and the hope on his face melts me. “After all this time, and everything I’ve done . . . do you still want
me
?”

I look at our hands. “It would be so messy.”

“I know. But if we can finally be together, it would be worth it.”

I look up into his eyes. “Yeah. It would.” He smiles, and even though the rain is still drenching us, I feel like I’m standing in full sun.

I smile back at him, then shake my head at how sappy I must look. “You still need to sleep on it. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

He leans down and gives me a soft, slow kiss. “I have some things to work out on my end, but this is going to happen. Trust me.”

I pull away, and even though I’m trying like hell to not get my hopes up, the way he’s smiling at me is making that impossible.

I pick up my bag and swing it over my shoulder. “I’m heading home. If you figure out how to look Angel in the eye tomorrow after everything that’s just happened, let me know.
I’ll be the one neck-deep in a shame spiral.”

I’m almost at the end of the alley when he says, “Liss?” I turn to face him and see that, though the rain has slowed, his hair is still dripping onto his face. “No matter
what happens, don’t feel guilty about this. I initiated it. Blame me, not yourself.”

I shake my head. “It takes two people to kiss like that, Liam. I’m as guilty as you.” I turn away from him and trudge to the subway station. My guilt churns through me all the
way home.

Later, when I crawl into bed, I dream about a future in which Liam is mine—mind, body, heart, and soul. Even with a troubled conscience, they’re the most beautiful dreams I’ve
ever had.

Liam and I are making love when something impinges on my consciousness.

It’s a song. Tinny and far away.

I try to ignore it.

Liam lifts me until I’m straddling him, and his face melts into pure adoration as I ride him.

“What’s that noise?” he asks, as he grips my hips and urges me to move faster.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Fuck me.”

He flips me onto my back and takes over by pressing my wrists into the bed. He thrusts, hard and deep.

“God, Liam . . .”

“I’ve been fantasizing about this since yesterday in the alley. Nothing feels as good as being inside you.”

He increases his pace. Grabs my leg and pulls it up to his waist. Slides home, time and again.

God, the pleasure. The all-consuming, spine-tingling pleasure.

“Ohhhhh . . . Liaaaaaam . . .”

“Hey, Mona McMoany. Answer your phone.” Then someone’s shaking me. “Lissa! Wake up!”

I sit up with a start, still in the throes of my dream. Josh is sitting on my bed with my ringing phone in his hand.

I take a quick look at the clock. . 4.45 a.m.

“Who the hell is calling at this hour?”

“It’s Mary. Please answer it. It’s been ringing for five minutes.”

I take the phone. “Mary?”

“Finally! Where have you been?”

I rub my face. “Sleeping. What else do you expect at this hour?”

“Well, get up,” she says. “We’re having an emergency production meeting. Meet us in the conference room as soon as you can.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“The shit’s about to hit the fan is what’s going on. I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

She hangs up without signing off. A ball of lead falls into my stomach.

Oh, Liam. You did it, didn’t you? You’ve broken up with Angel and told everyone about us. Shit.

I throw my covers back and get out of bed. “Come on, Josh. We have to go.”

“Why?”

“Reasons. Move it.”

Thirty minutes later we enter the conference room. The whole production team is there, as well as Angel and Liam. Angel looks like she’s been crying. Liam looks like he wants to murder
someone.

Oh, hell. This is really happening. He told her. I honestly didn’t think he would.

I’ve dreamed about what it would be like to have Liam choose me too many times to count, but not once did I think it would be in such a public way. I sneak a glance at Mary and Marco. They
don’t seem mad at me. Why don’t they seem mad?

Next to Liam, Anthony Kent shuffles a stack of magazines in front of him. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. We have a situation that needs to be resolved, so let’s all
get on the same page before a shitstorm of epic proportions lands firmly in our laps.”

He passes around the magazines. When one lands in front of me, my mouth goes dry, which is remarkable considering I want to vomit.

The front cover shows a grainy image of Liam kissing a girl. In an alley. In the rain. The angle of the picture hides my face, and my wet hair looks more brown than blond, but still: It’s
me. The headline reads, EXCLUSIVE SCANDAL!
HOLLYWOOD LOVE RAT CAUGHT IN ALLEY CLINCH
! Underneath is the caption,
“Trouble in paradise for America’s
Sweethearts? Cheating Liam Quinn seduces mystery brunette in NYC.”

“Oh, shit,” Josh says beside me. He shoots me a sideways glance. He suspects.

“Shit, indeed,” Mary says as she takes off her glasses and cleans them.

Across the table, Angel shakes her head. I can barely breathe.

Anthony lays his hand on Liam’s shoulder. “This magazine will hit newsstands in a couple of hours, and yes, it looks bad, but we’re not here to judge. We’re here to go
into damage control.”

Mary gives Liam a disapproving glare. “What the hell were you thinking, sunshine?”

He doesn’t look at her. “I wasn’t.”

“Who is this girl?” Marco asks. “Will she be an ongoing issue?”

“No.” Liam’s face is hard. “She’s just some chick I met in a bar. I was drunk. I did something stupid. It won’t happen again.”

Heat engulfs my face as bile rises in my throat.

Opposite me, Anthony crosses his arms. “Liam and I have spoken about this in detail, and he assures me it was just a drunken kiss that meant nothing. He wants to put it behind him and move
on.”

I swallow down another bout of nausea. It wouldn’t hurt so much if I didn’t suspect it was the truth. I flip the magazine open to the story inside. There are more pictures. My legs
wrapped around Liam. His hands on my breasts. My fingers gripping his hair. Seeing it like this, it seems so seedy.

“The first thing we do,” Anthony continues, “is make sure everyone is clear on the narrative. No one but Mary and I speaks to the media. If we stand strong and united,
we’ll weather this storm. The woman in these pictures is unidentified, but to America, she’s simply a cheap tramp who seduced a famous movie star in the hope of getting her fifteen
minutes of fame. Are we clear?”

Everyone nods, even Liam. He’s staring down at the table, fists clenched, jaw tight. He can’t even look at me.

Angel is also looking at the table. She seems shell-shocked. I curl my fingers into my palms until I feel the sting of my fingernails. So Liam didn’t tell her about us and she still gets
her heart ripped out? What the fuck is happening right now?

“How can we be sure she won’t talk?” Mary asks. “Liam, if you give us her name, we can work out some sort of deal to keep her quiet.”

“No,” Liam says, roughly. “She’s not interested in any of that.”

“How do you know? We can draw up a confidentiality agreement. Legally gag her.”

Liam shakes his head. “I can barely remember her face, Mary, let alone her name.” Now he glances at me. “She won’t come forward. Trust me.”

I clench my jaw to stop from screaming at him.
“Trust me”? Never again, asshole.

“The woman isn’t part of our strategy,” Anthony says. “In a few hours the media frenzy will have reached fever pitch, so we’ll need Angeliam to go on television and
make a joint statement.” Anthony passes Liam a printed speech. “Liam, you’re going to say you suffered a moment of weakness. You were nervous about the wedding, but you love your
fiancée and deeply regret hurting her in any way. You will be on the verge of tears the whole time and hold your fiancée’s hand like it’s made of precious crystal,
understand? Angel, you will stand beside your man and support him. When he’s finished, you will hug him and whisper words of forgiveness. We will manage this disaster with the military
precision of the goddamn National Guard. Don’t forget, there’s no scandal so bad it can’t be spun into something good. Except of course if you murder someone or get caught kicking
puppies, in which case, you’re screwed. But short of that, anything can be turned into promotional gold. We’ll get through this.”

He keeps talking. Mary chimes in with her opinion. When Marco worries that the backers for the show will pull out, Mary reassures him that this kind of viral exposure will triple ticket
sales.