Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 98021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Tired of me?
Or tired and able to let his guard down with me?
I'm not sure. The last two days have been strange. Extremely strange.
"You coming over here?" Liam calls. "I'm trying to explain to my friend that I like you for your wit, but he's not buying it."
"It sounds like bollocks." The man speaks with a British accent.
He's not an investor.
He's a competitor.
But what the fuck is his name?
"Do I need to take you home?" Liam says to me. "Put you to bed?"
The guy chuckles in that ah, of course, Liam is ridiculous way.
Liam motions come here again.
Right. I'm his fiancée. I'm wearing the ring. I'm playing the loving paramour.
Random friend at hotel lobby isn't a specific part of the deal, but this will go faster if I say hello and head home.
I nod a hey and meet the men at the bar.
Liam slips out of his chair. Pulls me into a kiss.
He tastes like chlorine and apple liqueur. It shouldn't be an intoxicating combination, but it is.
"Briar, you know Ian?" He introduces me to his friend.
"I don't think so." I offer my hand. "Briar West."
"Ian Hunt." He shakes.
Hunt. He's on the board of another company. Him and his brothers. Or one brother maybe. It's all fuzzy right now.
He's British. The company is big in the UK and the rest of Europe. They aren't direct competitors, exactly. You could even argue we make each other better—they find information whereas we hide it—but you could also argue our goals are in direct opposition.
No ring. He's not married.
He's older than Liam, but I can't tell by how much. And he's handsome too. Dark skin, dark eyes, charming smile.
Almost as charming as Liam's.
"Have you really not met?" Liam asks.
"I'd remember," I say.
The guy, Ian, I guess, nods. "I'd remember meeting you, Briar."
"Hey, turn down the charm. Don't you see the ring?" Liam makes a show of objecting.
Ian looks to my left hand. Notes the engagement ring. "Is that why we've never met? You couldn't introduce your fiancée to someone more handsome than you are?"
"What did I say about the charm?" Liam chuckles. "Do you have a level below ten?"
"Absolutely not," he says.
"He's got a girlfriend. Don't get ideas, baby." Liam wraps his arm around me. Is he actually jealous? Or does he just want to touch me?
That's his third drink in two hours.
Or maybe four. I haven't been counting. I have no idea if he was drinking with Harrison.
"You're his type though." Liam brushes a hair behind my ear. "His girlfriend has teal hair and tattoos."
"Those are her defining traits, yes." Ian chuckles.
"He's an idiot," I say. "He can't help it."
"She's smart too." Liam turns to me. "Not as smart as you, obviously, since you're with me."
"That was one of my dumber moves, actually," I say.
Liam smiles. "See? What did I tell you? Witty."
"I should get him home," I say.
"It's not your job to babysit him," Ian says. "Let him get himself home."
"It is, tragically. Or it was. I was Liam's assistant," I say.
"My condolences."
"We're partners now." I explain my start-up in as few words as possible. "Liam. Let's go."
"Are we going to bed?" he asks.
"It's early," I say.
"Not that kind of bed," he says.
"We're not doing it here."
"This is a hotel. We could do it here," Liam says.
I don't have the patience for drunk Liam. "I'm leaving. You can stay here with Ian. Or come with me."
"If I'm gonna come, it's going to be with you." Liam nods goodbye to his friend. Reaches for his wallet.
Ian stops him. "You can get drinks next time."
Liam doesn't engage in the usual no, I'm paying pissing contest rich guys love. "Bring your girlfriend next time. She and Bri can talk circles around us."
"She'd like that." He nods goodbye to me. "It was nice to meet you, Briar. Good luck. Liam isn't easy to handle."
"There is a lot to handle, yeah." Liam winks.
So much for not engaging in a dick measuring contest.
Thankfully, his friend doesn't bite. He just shakes his head and says goodbye again.
I keep up the smile until I'm in the revolving door.
All at once, the cool of the hotel air-conditioning disappears. Warm air hits me. The noise of the city. The heaviness in my shoulders.
Something is wrong.
Something Liam won't tell me.
Why won't he tell me?
Why am I so desperate to know?
Chapter Nineteen
Briar
"I don't need sleep." Liam steps out of his shoes. Shrugs his suit jacket off his shoulders. "I need another drink."
I go to the sink. Fill a glass with water. "I'm your friend. And I'll help you, because I'm your friend. But I'm not going to monitor your drinking or your self-care or your feelings."
He stares at the glass like it did him wrong. "I'm not drunk."
Probably. I've seen Liam drunk. Slurred words, struggling to stand drunk. This is only tipsy for him, but it's enough he's annoying me. "Then why are you saying stupid shit?"