Текст книги "Vice"

Автор книги: Rosanna Leo

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

“Stalking me now, are you?”

“And if I have been watching you? What would you say to that?”

His tone had changed, the playful lilt gone. The whisper that remained spoke of seduction, of repressed carnality and greed. He may have meant to tease her with his words, but hearing them with such voracity made it hard not to react. Her throat seemed suddenly dry, and she realized something about this man. With him, there were only three options: fight, flight or submit.

She prayed she still had some fight left in her.

“Never fear, sugar,” Liam said with a shrug, his voice once again lightening with mischief. “I just wish my own team worked so hard.” He motioned to a set of doors. “Be my guest.”

Shoot. She shouldn’t have had that extra-large coffee on the way to the protest, but she’d needed the pick-me-up after her failure to do the right thing at the bank. But to use Liam Doyle’s private bathroom? “I don’t know.”

“It’s cleaned daily, Kate. I haven’t even used that one yet. No evil Liam cooties in there.” He eyed the clock on the wall. “Look, I don’t mean to rush you, but like I said, I have visitors coming and if you’re not planning on answering my question, we might as well call it a day.”

“Okay, fine.” Muttering her thanks, she shuffled to the washroom and closed the door behind her, almost slamming it with relief. She made sure to lock it as well. What if he had a hidden camera in here? What if Liam Doyle was a crazed serial killer who lured unsuspecting women into his bathroom of death? Not finding any lethal traps lying about, she adjusted her clothing and attended to business.

After washing her hands, she couldn’t help but notice all the personal items in the room. For an office bathroom, he sure kept it well-stocked. “Geez, does the dude live here?”

Next to the black marble vanity stood a storage cabinet with clear doors. Through the doors, she spied plush wash cloths, several spare sticks of deodorant, body wash and shampoo. Oh, and a bottle of the Kors cologne she loved. Unable to resist, she opened the door and pulled out the cologne bottle, bringing it to her nose.

Liam’s scent, so up-close-and-personal, made her weak in the knees. Head spinning, she shoved it back into the cabinet and closed the door.

Taking a few extra minutes to compose herself, she planned her next move. He wanted to buy her off, but when she’d joined New Horizons, it was because of a higher calling. Mere money, even piles of it, wouldn’t sway her from trying to help people like herself. She needed to convince him a payoff wasn’t possible in a way that showed him why what he was doing was wrong.

Just as she had her speech prepared in her head, she opened the bathroom door, and heard voices in the outer room.

“Oh, damn.” She’d taken too long and now she had to excuse herself in front of his visitors. He probably had the freaking Queen out there. Or her naughtiest relative anyway.

She took a tentative step into the hallway, but what she heard made her stop in her tracks.

“You swore you’d bring her this time.” Liam’s tone was heart-broken, guarded.

A woman responded. “I lied. I had to. You wouldn’t see me otherwise.”

Heavy steps sounded from the room as Liam paced. “And you ask why I haven’t forgiven you. Why I’m skeptical. There’s always an excuse with you, Bridget. Always some reason why I can’t see her. You’re keeping Michelle away from me. It’s emotional blackmail.”

“Liam, don’t be like that,” the woman replied in a hurt voice. “I’d never do that to you.”

“You’ve been doing it for six months,” he said in a deceptively quiet voice, the kind that dripped danger. “I haven’t seen her in six whole months. I used to see her every fucking day. How do you expect me to feel?”

Oh, shit. Kate didn’t know what she’d gotten into here, but she needed to get out. She’d stumbled into a very private moment, and she didn’t think Liam would thank her for listening, even though she hadn’t meant to.

And yet, for some reason, the pain in his voice made her want to stay. Who was this woman, Bridget? She couldn’t remember reading anything about his marital status.

“Liam,” Bridget answered. “What do you expect me to do? Your fancy lawyers hound me. They say my own flesh and blood would be better off with you.”

“She would be.”

“It’s time for you to move on. Andy and I are trying to make a go of things. He wants to be there for me and for Michelle. He knows he sucked as a father, but he’s back on track now. He’s given up that woman, and he’s sorry. I know you’re hurt, but we don’t need you interfering, trying to play Dad with our daughter!”

“She was my daughter too!”

“No, Liam. She never was, and you know it. Look, I appreciate you being there for us when Andy was away, and I appreciate you stepping in as a father figure for Michelle. I know you love her, but if you do, you have to give up this insane demand for sole custody. Andy’s her real dad, and he’s getting tired of hearing her ask about you. You need to let us be a family.”

“So I don’t get to see her ever again?”

“No. You don’t. I’m sorry, but that’s how it has to be.” She sighed, but then her voice changed and Kate heard a soft cry. “Please, Liam. Please stop punishing me.”

Swallowing her queasiness, Kate figured she’d better get out before she heard anything else. She’d already heard too much. She didn’t want him to think she was eavesdropping on purpose. Quietly, she turned the corner and entered the main room.

Bridget’s head popped up in surprise. “Who the hell are you? Another lawyer?”

Liam looked at Kate and his pale face turned red. “Um, no. This is Kate Callender. A…friend.” He shook his head, as if mystified at his own hasty description of her.

Kate didn’t have a chance to react. She was too busy staring at the floor so she wouldn’t embarrass Bridget as she wiped her tears away. She seemed genuinely upset, and as much as her tears worked on Kate’s natural sympathies, she couldn’t forget Liam was standing just a few feet away, hunkered like a wounded animal, struggling with his own demons. She didn’t know which of them was the true injured party, both oozed uneasy vulnerability. What on Earth had happened between them?

Kate gritted her teeth and headed for the elevator. “I was just leaving.” She looked back at Liam. “I’m sorry I interrupted your visit. It wasn’t intentional.”

“Kate, wait. We weren’t done.” The tired tone in his voice made her want to offer him emotional triage. Great. If there was anything Kate loved, it was a man with heavy baggage. Not that she was interested in him or the size of his suitcase.

“You might as well stay,” said Bridget. “Liam and I are finished anyway.” She turned to him. “Please stop sending Michelle gifts and please call off your hounds. You need to stop trying to control this situation. It’s not yours to control. If you ever loved Michelle, you’ll let her have her real father back.”

Liam didn’t say a word. He just stared at the floor as if he wanted to burn a hole in it.

Bridget passed Kate, picked up her purse from a side table and pushed the elevator button. She continued to avoid Liam’s gaze as she waited for the door to close.

Kate stared at her shoes, and then at Liam. He was white, no, grey, in the face. “Liam. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” He lifted his head, beaten and exhausted.

Stop punishing me. Bridget’s words haunted her. Kate couldn’t deny there was a part of her that wondered if Liam had a punishing side to his character. Surely he’d trampled a few people on his rise to the top. He’d warned her himself he didn’t forgive and forget.

She needed to make her exit now, before she made him feel any more awkward, and before he made her feel more…whatever that turmoil in her stomach was. It was bad enough she’d seen him at such a private moment, she didn’t need to make things more complicated. She pressed the button to summon the elevator.

In the uncomfortable seconds that followed, Liam walked over to the kitchen counter and fingered the little girl’s coloring book. He began to tear the pages out of the book, one by one. Each rip made him look darker, more despondent, more desperate. By the time he’d torn ten pages out, his lips had pressed so tight they were almost blue.

She wanted to hate him, but right now she couldn’t.

The elevator door opened.

Kate froze. Get in. Get in. Don’t come back.

The door closed again.

All of a sudden, Liam Doyle wasn’t a big, bad casino owner. He was just a man who hurt. And it was in her nature to try and take the hurt away.

Moving quietly, she made her way over to the counter and stood next to him. His cologne wafted over her again, making her want to close her eyes and dream. She touched a hand to his sleeve and then pried the desecrated book out of his hands. He started, as if shocked she was still there.

“Do you want to talk?”

He frowned, his mouth opened once or twice, but no words came out. She knew how she must appear. A few minutes ago, she’d been the harridan he’d been trying to bribe away from his property. Now, she probably sounded like bloody Mary Poppins. She should offer up a goddamn spoonful of sugar while she was at it.

When he didn’t answer, she pointed to the strawberry pastries. “Are those from the restaurant downstairs?”

A fraction of his professionalism returned. “Chef Jean-Claude made them special for me.”

“They’re beautiful. I bet a box of six costs as much as my rent.”

He looked at her for a tense moment and then cracked a sad smile. “Would you like one?”

“No. I mean, I’d love one. I could probably swallow them all whole, but I’m gluten-free and trying hard to be sugar-free.”

One side of his mouth twitched, and a dimple showed under his stubble. Those husky dog eyes still seemed so sad, though. “Why am I not surprised? Well, does your gluten-free, sugar-free diet mean you can’t have coffee?”

“Probably, but a girl’s gotta have some pleasure.”

“Have a seat, then. I’ll make some.” Once again, he gestured to the cushy couches, but this time added, “Please.”

She could have made a crack about how his servants should be making his coffee, but she didn’t. This time, she just offered him a smile, and sat down.

Chapter Four

Liam glanced a couple of times at Kate as he prepared the coffee. She ran her fingers over the couch’s leather upholstery as if she’d never sat on Italian leather before. Maybe she hadn’t. It would explain why she was perched at the edge of the couch, as if afraid to mar it with her presence.

“How do you take it?” he asked, pouring a black one for himself.

“Fully loaded, please.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “What was that about sugar-free?”

“What? I’m not a martyr. Besides, coffee with no sugar is a deal breaker. Of course, if you have any Stevia root in those cupboards, I’d take that instead.” She raised her head and watched him work. “So, I take it Bridget’s your ex?”

He brought the two mugs over, setting them on the pastry tray. “Yeah. We were together for a couple of years.”

“Married?”

“No. Thank God for small mercies.”

She picked up her mug and took a demure sip. He imagined the hot, sweet liquid warming a path down her throat. Despite the emotional upheaval of the past ten minutes, he imagined dragging his tongue over her. Jesus Christ. Get your shit together. She licked her lips, snapping him out of his funk.

Her staring at him made him feel uncomfortable but consoled at the same time. He didn’t think anyone had ever inspired that feeling before. She seemed to consider her next words carefully. “Tell me about her. Were you happy together?”

He ran a hand through his hair, experiencing a familiar sense of unease. “We didn’t have a typical relationship. We’d been friends for some time, ran in the same circles. When her husband took off with another woman, I was there for her. After a while, it just seemed convenient to sleep together.”

“So she wasn’t your grand passion then?”

He grinned. “No. I guess I always knew she wasn’t over Andy, but I fooled myself into believing their relationship was done. He’d married her and then decided he wasn’t quite finished sowing his wild oats. Even started divorce proceedings. He left her just as she realized she was pregnant.”

“Charming.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. Anyway, Bridget accepted my help, and it seemed to make sense that friends could be lovers. I convinced myself I cared more than I did, and she swore she wanted nothing more to do with him.”

“It didn’t bother you she was pregnant with another man’s child?”

“At first, I just thought I could give her some support. Once she started showing, I got excited. I told myself we could be a family. Looking back, I realize a part of me really wanted to be a dad. I never had much of a family life, you see. I guess I craved stability, or at least liked the idea of giving it to someone else.”

As soon as he spied the look of empathy in her eyes, he forgot about the hostile circumstances in which they met. He was just appreciative having her there, showing some kindness.

“I treated Michelle like my own. Bridget was grateful, but gratitude isn’t the same as love.” He scratched his chin. “For a while, we had fun playing family. But as much as I loved that little girl, her mom and I couldn’t fake it very long. The chemistry just wasn’t there. We argued over stupid things. Made a lot of mistakes. But I held on for Michelle. Trust me. Staying for the kid never makes it better.”

She sighed, as if she understood completely. “What happened?”

Liam sucked in a breath. “My job kept us apart. I work a lot of nights and after a while I realized I was staying longer and longer at the office. I was right in the middle of making plans for this place and life was hectic. When I did give myself a day off, she purposely kept away, as if to punish me.

“Then one day she went out with friends and left her cell phone behind. It rang, and I answered, thinking it might be her calling home. It was Andy. I saw his name on the display. As soon as he realized it wasn’t her on the phone, he hung up.”

He stared at his coffee mug, wishing he could drown in its dark depths. “I accused her of seeing him behind my back. She didn’t even deny it. Andy had said he still loved her, that he was sorry, and that he wanted to be a father to his child.”

Kate’s face turned down. “That must have been horrible for you.”

“It was a fucking nightmare,” he admitted in a quiet voice. “I love that little girl with all my heart. But at the end of the day, Michelle’s not my biological daughter, even if I was there when she was born.”

She shook her head, but said nothing.

“I don’t even have words to describe what I went through. I’ve been in a very dark place since then. The only thing that keeps me sane is my work.” And no matter how much his doctor suggested he reduce his hours, working less meant more time to think about what he’d lost.

“And now you want custody?” She spoke in quiet, tentative tones.

“Can you blame me?”

“Not really, but sole custody? They are her parents.”

“I don’t trust them, either of them. I don’t trust Andy not to hurt Michelle later on. That bastard turned his back on his daughter when she needed him most, and if he thinks I’ll just step aside so he can do it again, he can go fuck himself.”

Kate frowned, and he could see his words struck a nerve. “But…”

“There are no buts. As far as I’m concerned, she’s my little girl. She always will be. I know having a casino owner as a dad isn’t exactly ideal, but I did my best. Even had a nursery set up in my last office so I could be with her while I was at work sometimes. I changed her diapers. I took her to the park on weekends. I bottle-fed her and held her in my arms. I did more for her than her own flesh and blood father ever did. Ever will. I love her. I can’t just turn that off.”

He gazed into Kate’s eyes. Sympathy shone there, clear as day. Not that he wanted her sympathy, but it felt good to unburden himself. There was no judgment in Kate’s eyes, no comments that she thought him a gullible fool. Just warmth, something he didn’t feel too often these days.

The pastries sat untouched before them, and they both stared at the tray. Liam had ordered them because strawberries were Michelle’s favorite. Were they still? How the hell would he know? He suddenly felt like tossing them across the room.

“Of course you can’t turn it off,” Kate said. “But you have to understand you’ll need to cut Michelle out of your life. For your own sanity.”

“To hell with sanity. I’m not cutting her out of my life. I’ve got the best law firm in the business backing me. They’ll help me get Michelle back.”

“But she’s not yours. You said it yourself, and Bridget seems remorseful.”

“I don’t care. I was a part of her life for three years. Michelle is mine and her idiot sperm donor father isn’t standing in my way. They think I’ll walk away from her? I will never abandon her.” He knew what that was like. No way he’d do that to his little girl.

“You wouldn’t be abandoning her. You’d be just…moving on.”

He felt his blood pressure ratchet up a notch. “I have no wish to ‘move on.’”

“I don’t know if that’s helping the situation. It sounds, well, controlling.”

“Since when is being in control a bad thing?”

“There’s a difference between in control and being controlling.”

“I don’t care. If that makes me a sore loser, so be it.”

“But Liam, this battle is poisonous. It’ll hurt Michelle in the long run, and it’ll devastate everyone else involved.” Her soft voice sounded more logical than his own conscience had ever been. “I know it must hurt to turn away, but don’t you think it’s best?”

Frustration sizzled like acid in his gut and he directed his annoyance squarely at Kate. “You don’t understand. I don’t care if the legal battle kills me. I just want what’s best for her. I can give her a better life than they can. I don’t want her to grow up and wonder why I left. Can’t you see that?”

“Oh, Liam. This is not right. You have to end this, for your own sake. You have to let her go. I know it will hurt, but if you don’t hit rock bottom, you won’t move forward.”

“I won’t lose my daughter!”

“She’s not your daughter!”

Their raised voices echoed throughout the room, but the ensuing silence felt louder.

“Who asked you?” he said quietly, but with vehemence. “I think you should go.”

“I think so too.” Still looking concerned, she stood and gathered her purse. Plain, sensible, just like her. Well, he was tired of being sensible. Sensible had lost him everything.

Without another word, she headed to the elevator and pushed the button. She slipped inside, then turned to face him, as if wanting to say something.

He watched as the door closed on Kate. And then, finally giving into his anger, he gathered up the tray of pastries and hurled them at the wall.

As he watched the trail of expensive strawberry chunks slide down the wall, he felt his chest rise and fall with a few shaky breaths. He’d lost his cool, and all because a stranger called him out for ignoring the pitiful truth in his life. He had no daughter. He might as well have been Michelle’s former babysitter. He had no claim to her.

Kate Callender had seen right through him. Unimpressed by his wealth and influence, she’d seen him for the mess he truly was.

He’d resented her for her insight.

Now, feeling just as sick for the way he treated her, Liam turned away from the sticky berry muck. What was he supposed to do? Apologize for jumping down Kate’s throat? No, he didn’t owe her any explanations, certainly not regarding his personal life. He’d worked hard to keep his relationships out of the papers, and just as hard to keep photographers away from Michelle. Kate had no right to question him.

If anything, she’d done him a favor. Now he truly saw her for the busybody she was. In fact, next time she so much as put a foot on his property, he would throw her over his shoulder and remove her himself.

Consoled by this steely determination, he didn’t walk over to the window to see if Kate had left yet, even though a frustrating part of him remained curious. Rather, he grabbed a wet cloth from his kitchen and began to clean the mess. He could have called housekeeping, but didn’t want to explain why he had fruit and whipped cream on his wall. Not that he made a habit of explaining his messes.

Once he’d finished, he planted himself at his desk, and returned a dozen work related calls. All the while doing his best to forget a particular pair of reproving, yet sympathetic, hazel eyes.

After having pulled a late night at Vice, sleeping in his casino office, Liam arose for an early start. He’d taken time to sit in on some auditions by a couple of acts hoping for a spot at the casino’s piano bar Decadence. He had managers on staff who were responsible for booking talent, but when it came to hiring new acts, he liked being in the thick of things. After all, every artist under his roof was a representation of him and of his casinos. He wanted to know each act on his payroll would do him justice.

And it was a good thing too. His bar manager had wanted to hire one of the acts, but Liam had found the woman’s Judy Garland act cheesy. In fact, he’d vetoed all the acts. His manager had turned to him afterward, his face lined with frustration.

Too bad. His club, his rules.

Thank Christ he had insisted on his office being such a homey environment. With the sort of work he did, he often pulled these kind of all-nighters. There were days he didn’t leave his casinos at all. At times like this, he might not see his condo for a week. It helped him keep his mind off his former family life. As he got settled at his desk, he rolled his shoulders and tried to stretch out the nagging pull of sore muscles.

He’d dreamed of her last night, of Kate. Had dreamed of finger-combing her fiery mane of hair, right before he drove into her tight heat.

Fuck.

He stretched out his arms and cracked his knuckles in a feeble attempt to banish the red-headed demon from his visions. But in the end he gave into nagging temptation and wandered over to the window that faced the entrance.

No picket line. No Kate.

Okay. This should be no problem. He was bigger than this…this cock-driven moment of feeblemindedness.

As he attended his meetings that day, he ignored the burn in his stomach. When he once again looked back out the same window hours later, he congratulated himself on finally being rid of the pesky protestor.

Late that afternoon, as he drafted a few emails with his assistant Pearl, he stood as far away as possible from the window.

“Liam?” she prodded. “How do you want to respond to the email about the building permit for the old works building?”

Pearl’s voice barely cut through his consciousness and he didn’t think to answer her.

“Liam?”

He snapped out of his funk for a second. “Which email?”

“The one I sent you yesterday.”

Damn. He’d barely looked at it. “Just…tell him I want a definitive answer. We’ve wasted enough time on this issue.”

Despite his strong words, he knew his tone came out quiet and distracted, and not in a good way. He knew this shit with the building permit office could have been resolved sooner if he’d pushed it more. He should have pushed it more. He wanted to start working on his next property.

Didn’t he?

For some reason, he just wasn’t excited about the new project. His enthusiasm for building had waned, truth be told. Was he losing his fire, his drive?

Or was his fire simply smoking in another direction?

Pearl, a kind-hearted older woman, approached him from the side and put a hand on his sleeve. “Are you okay, Liam?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Nando Perreira left two messages this morning.”

“I know.”

She gave his arm a rub, but he gently pulled away. Professional to a fault, Pearl didn’t usually allow her inner nurturer to manifest, but when it did, it made him uncomfortable. He hadn’t had much mothering growing up and still didn’t quite know what to do with it.

His stepmom Shauna had guaranteed that. She’d made sure he never understood what it felt like to have the support of a good woman in his life. She was most likely the reason he’d fouled up every relationship he’d had. She’d turned him into an unforgiving bastard who hated to lose, who had to be in control, and every time something shitty happened to him, he heard her voice.

You’re not my son. I’ll never think of you as my son. You mean nothing to me.

Squeezing those memories out of his brain, he looked at Pearl. He took in the sympathetic slant of her eyes, knowing she felt the same way Kate did, that he should just let Michelle go. He’d shared the details of his custody suit with Pearl some time ago, and she’d also stated, albeit more diplomatically than Kate, that he should relinquish his claim.

Why was he the only one who seemed to understand he wanted to do right by the little girl?

Kate’s voice sounded in his head. She’s not your daughter.

He recognized the truth in her statement, and his heart broke. All his success wouldn’t take this sort of hurt away either. It was the sort of pain that traditionally one could only forget with the help of copious amounts of alcohol. And even then the effect was temporary.

Pearl took a deep breath and gathered up her things. “I’ll let you know when I hear about the permit.”

He nodded in acknowledgment. “Thanks, Pearl.”

His work day finished, he once again looked out the window overlooking the entrance.

No Kate.

By now, even Wade was on the lookout for her. He’d asked about her a couple of times already. The security guard stood sentinel outside, craning his neck, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of her on the Strip. In just a few days they’d both gotten used to her being there and felt her absence, despite the fact she’d like nothing more than to see Vice burn to the ground. It should be funny.

So why wasn’t he laughing?

Temples throbbing, Liam left his office and hit the executive gym, determined to pound Kate’s memory out of his head. It did no good. As much as he tore up the treadmill, he couldn’t run away from her face. It seemed to follow him everywhere these days.

Feeling defeated for reasons he barely understood, he headed back to his suite. Eager to escape the working world for a few hours, he spent the night on his couch, indulging in a marathon of The Walking Dead.

But even the zombie apocalypse couldn’t dislodge the remembrance of red locks pulled back in a tight ponytail, or of the disappointment in her eyes.

Maybe they needed some more face time. Maybe he needed to explain.

But Kate was a no-show the next day as well. And the next, and the next. A week went by without Liam glimpsing her or her placard from the fourth floor.

The sore loser in him wanted a redo of their conversations. The sore loser in him wanted her back so he could erase her disappointment in him with a long, slow kiss. The sore loser in him needed to give her the most rollicking orgasm of her life, and drive her as crazy as she’d driven him.

He had to find her.

“I swear, I don’t know whether to hug Darren or to hit him.” The background hum in the room seemed to pause for a moment. “Kate? Are you in there?”

Her head snapped up. Damn! She’d lost focus. She’d never done that in group before, but it seemed she could barely concentrate the past few days. “I’m sorry, Audrey. I’m a little distracted. What were you saying?”

Audrey grinned and picked up a chocolate-chip cookie. “It’s okay. I get it. Sometimes I want to tune out, too.”

Kate felt the burn of guilt fester in the pit of her stomach. At least, group hadn’t started yet and she and Audrey had just been having a one-on-one conversation. It would have been embarrassing to lose focus during the session. Some leader she was.

And it was all Liam Doyle’s fault. Because of his personal situation, because of his anger toward her for telling him the truth, she hadn’t been able to think of much else. Clearly she’d become deranged. How else could she explain why she should be so affected by someone she didn’t even like or respect, or even know for that matter? Unless there was a part of her that wanted to know him better…

“Oh, crap.”

“Come again?”

Kate fumbled for a response. “It’s nothing.” Feeling hot in the face, she motioned to the others in the group. “Hey, everyone. It’s time to get started.”

Before she could say anything, Rod piped up. “So why did we stop picketing Vice? I thought we’d made a real impact on some of those visitors last time.”

“Yeah. Why the ceasefire, fearless leader?” asked Patti.

All heads turned toward Kate. “Um. I’ve been thinking about it, and I just don’t know if it’s the most effective course of action.”

“What do you mean?” asked Rod. “Even Liam Doyle noticed you. You spoke with the man. We need to keep up our momentum.”

“Yes, but…”

“No buts, Kate,” pressed Rod. “This is important. Why the backpedaling? It’s not like you.”

She stared at him, completely at a loss. She had no logical answer, only feelings running rampant in her core. She felt sorry for Liam Doyle. There, she’d acknowledged it to herself. He was going through a personal hell, and she supposed she just didn’t want to rub salt in the wound.

So maybe it made her look like a weakling, but she hadn’t been able to step foot near Vice all week. In fact, she’d avoided the Strip altogether, spending her evenings with Lisa and the kids instead.

Somehow, her badass side had shriveled up and died. Oh well, it wasn’t a mantle she wore easily. Besides, she felt like a hypocrite. She’d deposited another hundred dollars into her dad’s account again today, even though it was royalty money she couldn’t afford to lose.

Before she could respond to Rod, she heard a knock on the door of the meeting room. Being closest to the door, Rod got up and opened it, sticking his head out. He pulled it back in and turned around. “Kate, there’s a man here asking for you.”

Her pulse jumped and skittered. Liam? Oh, Christ. Don’t be so silly. What did she expect? That he’d pull up in a pumpkin carriage, offering her glass footwear?

She got up and went to the door. She stepped outside, moving her legs in small, tentative motions. Her movements came to an abrupt stop when she saw who stood in the hallway. Her breath came to a stop as well.