Page 47

* * *

Liam strodethrough the foyer and was met with silence. On the side table, next to the handcraftedashtray,a single light glowed. It was unnerving, the quiet. He’d prefer karaoke night at Howlers to this. While he’d tolerated Alex’s efforts to bring in more business, he’d put his foot down on that one.

Under his breath, he muttered, “Where in blue blazes is everyone?” Dove didn’t glide across the room, dancing to a song only she could hear. Armond didn’t sip a martini on the sofa, staring Liam down with malice in his eyes. The flames in the fireplace didn’t flare menacingly at his arrival. Not even Gilbert surfaced to take his coat. It was as if all the life had been sucked out of the place. If Vivian’s gothic Victorian were a living, breathing entity, he’d say even the house was mourning.

He headed up the stairs to Vivian’s room, finding it just as vacant. Splashing noises echoed from the master bath.There she is.He draped his leather jacket over a chair, then rapped his knuckles on the bathroom door.

“Go away, Liam.”

He shoved the door open. Inside, Vivian reclined in her claw-foot tub. The bubbles had long since fizzled, turning the water a milky shade of pink. On the table beside the tub sat a half-empty bottle of gin, an almost full bottle of tonic, and a bowl of limes.

She rolled her head in his direction, annoyance in her blurry expression. “Quelle surprise. Again, he disobeys me.”

“What’s going on, Viv? This house is like a freaking mortuary. Where are Dove and Armond?”

“Safe. I sent them away. Far from here where Alistair can’t hurt them.”

For once, she’d listened to him? “That’s good. You did the right thing.”

“Yes, I did,” she declared with far too much exuberance, slapping the water, which splashed her face. She set the empty glass down, wiping her cheeks. “Where have you been?”

“Recruiting some of the guys I’ve worked with over the years. Two of them came right away. They’re talking with Soren and Kyrell now. You can meet them later if you want. The others will be here tomorrow.” He braced for her anger. Waited for her to snap at him for not involving her in the selection process.

Instead, she snorted an unladylike laugh. “I’ll be surrounded by miscreants and murderers.”

He scowled, failing to interpret her mood. “These are the kind of guys you want on your side with that mage, the magister, and Syndicate breathing down your neck. You need a crew who’s used to skating around the law.”

She dropped her head back on the tub rim and rolled her wrist, circling her finger. “Round and round I go. History repeating itself on a vicious loop.”

He heaved a sigh. What the hell was this nonsense? He needed her focused, now more than ever. They had plans to make. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that, once again, I am Alistair’s prisoner. Because of him, I’ve alienated my allies and pushed away those who are dear to me. Again, I’m trapped in my own house. Surrounded by men who would”—she made air quotes—“protect me from the dangers of the world.”

“It’s all temporary. Once we sort this out, you’ll have your freedom back.”

She choked a cutting laugh. “If you only knew how many times I made that exact promise to myself. It’s all temporary,” she mocked in a falsetto tone. “Any day now, and you’ll be free.”

He knew. All too well. In his youth, he’d made similar promises. That’s why it fucking killed him, Vivian feeling the same. Hell would freeze over before he let it happen to her again.

Before he could stumble down memory lane, she stood in the tub, a goddess with dangerous curves, lush breasts, and rosy nipples.

Aphrodite would envy this woman.

She wobbled, and he caught her arm. Before she could suck him into her spell, he nailed his eyeballs on the wall sconce over her shoulder. Hewould notstare at her tits.

For once, he was winning that battle. That is until she slung her arms around his neck, pressing her wet body against his.

“Be a dear and help me out.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He made use of Rule Number Three in a sad attempt to keep his cock in check. And to remind him why he was in this situation and the debt he intended to fulfill. He hefted her out of the tub and was quick to release her the second her feet were on the ground. Surely, he could withstand—

Shit! Breath left his lungs as though he’d been punched in the gut. Why did he have to look down? One glimpse of all that naked flesh, and it hit him—he wasn’t a good man. Nor was he a noble do-gooder. Not a eunuch or a priest. Certainly, not someone a female should trust when she was drunk and naked.

Getting her covered was the only chance he had. He gave her his back, grabbed a towel and turned, spreading it in his hands. “Let’s get you dr…” He trailed off, watching her saunter away, naked as the day she was born, the bottle of gin in hand. She dripped a path of water out of the bathroom and onto the bedroom rug. Her bare ass flexed with every step. He stared, mesmerized, then shook his head.

“Hold up.” He grabbed her robe from the back of the door and hustled after her. At her side, he held it out, demanding, “Arms.”

She swayed, sliding her arms into the sleeves. Thank the gods. When he reached around her to tie her belt, she leaned back, looking at him from over her shoulder. “It’s all your fault, you know?”