Chapter 15
Chapter 15:
He checked his watch, a heavy platinum Patek Philippe, for the third time in two minutes. He pulled at his collar, as if the tie were a noose.
Skye sat at the opposite end, ten feet of polished wood separating them. The distance felt appropriate. It felt like a canyon.
She wore a black dress. Simple. High-necked. Long-sleeved. No jewelry. Against the sea of white roses, she looked like a singular drop of ink. She looked like a widow in mourning, though her husband sat breathing right in front of her.
Skye lifted a spoonful of lobster bisque to her lips. Her hand trembled slightly, an involuntary spasm caused by the deep bruising on her forearm where Silas had gripped her. She set the spoon down quickly, masking the weakness with a deliberate reach for her water glass.
Clink.
Liam dropped his spoon. He couldn’t take the silence anymore. It was too heavy. Too accusing.
“Why did you agree to this?” Liam snapped, his voice echoing in the large room. “You know this is ridiculous. Grandma playing puppet master p>
“Defying her isn’t wise right now, Liam,” Skye said calmly. “Unless you want her to audit your discretionary spending accounts. I imagine the jewelry receipts for Seraphina might be… hard to explain to the board p>
Liam stiffened. His eyes narrowed. He looked at her, really looked at her, trying to find the Skye he knew. The Skye who would be wringing her hands right now, apologizing for the awkwardness, trying to make conversation about the weather.
Instead, he saw a woman carved from ice. Her face was serene, her pulse visibly steady in the hollow of her throat. There was no neediness in her eyes. No desperation.
It unsettled him. A man like Liam Kensington defined himself by the women who wanted him. If his wife didn’t want him, what was he?
“You’ve changed,” he muttered, picking up his wine glass. “You’re cold p>
“I’m tired, Liam,” she corrected, finally meeting his gaze. Her eyes were dark, unreadable pools. “There’s a difference p>
с𝗼mр𝘭е𝗍е 𝘴𝘁𝘰𝗿iе𝗌 𝗈n 𝘣e.𝗰𝗈𝘮
She deliberately let her sleeve ride up slightly, revealing the edge of a purpling bruise on her wrist. She saw Liam’s eyes dart to it, saw the flash of guilt and fear, before she smoothed the fabric back down.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
The vibration of a phone against the table shattered the tension. It wasn’t a standard ringtone. It was a specific, melodic chime assigned to one person.
Liam’s hand shot out, grabbing the phone before the second ring finished. His expression shifted instantly from annoyance to concern. His posture softened.
“Sera?” he answered, bringing the phone to his ear. “What’s wrong p>
Skye watched him. She took a sip of water. She didn’t feel the sting of jealousy anymore. She just felt a mild curiosity about what lie Seraphina had concocted this time.
“Liam… it hurts…” Seraphina’s voice was tinny, leaking from the speaker. She was sobbing, a theatrical, breathless sound. “I had a nightmare… I fell out of bed… my ankle… I think it’s broken. I’m all alone p>
It was pathetic. It was transparent.
But Liam bought it. He always bought it because he needed to be the savior. Especially tonight. Tonight, he needed to save someone to prove to himself that he wasn’t a monster who left women to die.