Page 93 of Between Secrets and Obsession

Grinning, I roll my eyes at his relentless flirting. Arranged marriage or not, I still feel guilty about it. I can’t deny it’s nice having Liam’s attention, but I don’t want it if it’s only because he’s jealous that I’m trying to move on.

I want to trust him. I want to believe that he’s only married for convenience, but considering he can’t tell mewhymakes me suspicious. For these past several months, he’s been all kinds of strange—the casino receipt and chip, the Mercedes he can’t afford, flying to Vegas more than usual. I can’t quite put my finger on what’s going on, but I’m guessing a gambling addiction is to blame.

Liam would never marry someone he hardly knows, not without introducing us to her before they got hitched. The whole situation sends up a plethora of red flags. Maybe she needs health insurance or needs an expensive surgery. Although she looks like she can afford to pay out of pocket for everything. Or maybe she has a terminal illness and getting married is her last dying wish. Or something her family pushed for. Realistically, it’s probably something else.

He agreed to this for a reason. Money? She could be paying him a salary and gifting him expensive things, which would explain the car.

Anything is possible at this point.

With my mind going crazy over the different scenarios, I decide to find the answers myself. He has to have something that’ll prove he’s being truthful. Once I do, I’ll keep it a secret so no one, including Liam, will ever know.

Setting my tea down, I head upstairs while the happy couple are still discussing wedding plans in the kitchen. Liam keeps everything in his room, so if he’s hiding something, it’s boundto be up there. When I find whatever I’m looking for, it’ll be the confirmation I need that he was genuine, and hopefully, the guilt of kissing a married man will disappear.

I shouldn’t sneak around, but that thought doesn’t stop me as I quietly enter his bedroom. I scowl at how messy it is. Liam’s closet looks like a tornado blew through and half of his clothes are on his bed or the floor. Considering it was clean while Victoria was here, it only took him three days to destroy his space.

However, his room being a disaster zone helps me since he won’t be able to tell I snooped. I start with his dresser and move crumpled boxers and random socks that he’s haphazardly thrown in. After searching through every drawer, I go to his desk, which is surprisingly the only clean part of the room. It’s where he keeps his work files and research data when he’s tracking fugitives. When I first learned what he did and the details the job entailed, it was amazing to learn how much time he puts into finding criminals.

Knowing it’s all organized, I carefully sift through his files, and when I don’t find anything there, I dig in his desk drawers.

“What the hell?” I lift a large photo of Liam and me in front of the house, walking toward his truck. It was a day I had errands to run and needed him to drive me. I must’ve been giving him shit or something because there’s a smirk on his lips, and I’m laughing. However, it’s the big red target over my face that has me shaking with fear.

Who sent him this and why?

Flipping it over, there’s a handwritten note, and I gasp at the words. Whoever sent this to him is blackmailing him for money and using me to threaten him if he doesn’t come through.

This has to be why he’s been acting weird around me and has been overbearing.

The gambling. Money. Traveling. Fancy car. Arranged marriage.

There has to be a correlation, but what does it have to do withme?

“Maddie, what the fuck?” I jump at Liam’s booming voice, shocked he’s home already. I thought I had more time and hadn’t heard him coming upstairs.

“I should be asking you that,” I say, tears staining my cheeks at the realization of how big this is. Whateverthisis. “Something’s going on, and I’m not leaving until you tell me everything. The truth.”

Liam walks toward me and eyes the photo in my hand. “Why are you going through my shit?” He bends down and swipes it from my grip.

Standing, I keep my stance firm and cross my arms. “Who sent that to you, Liam?”

“Maddie, it’s no?—”

“Don’t lie to me!” I shout louder than I intended, but this isn’t just about him anymore. Someone has a target on me. “I deserve to know who’s gonna kill me, don’t you think?”

Liam’s jaw tenses as he blows out a frustrated breath and runs a hand through his hair. “No one’s gonna fuckin’ touch you, Maddie. It was a scare tactic to get me back to Vegas. I went and told them to leave you out of this.”

“Themwho?”

“Maddie.” He steps around me and sits on the edge of his bed. “Protecting you means not getting you involved.”

I stand in front of him, taking in the hard angles of his face and defeated expression. He’s exhausted. “I’m already involved, if that picture is any indication. It’s obvious you’ve been holding this in for a while and it’s eating you alive.” I kneel between his legs and take his hands. “If you want me to trust you like you say you do, then tell me.Please.”

He contemplates my words, his chest rising and falling. When he finally nods, I blow out a relieved breath. Liam pulls me onto the bed next to him. Studying him, I notice his pale complexion and the dark bags under his eyes. He’s been holding on to this stress for months.

“It started with gambling,” he begins. “I was doing well, making decent money and met JJ O’Leary at one of the casinos. He’s Victoria’s brother. He sucks at poker and lost more than he ever won. JJ noticed I was winning against some wealthy men and offered me a deal one day. He’d pay the expensive buy-ins for the high-stakes games, then we’d split the profits.

“Ultimately, it sounded like a good arrangement, a no-brainer really. Gambling with more money can lead to bigger payouts if you know what you’re doing. After I won a tournament, he wanted more, almost obsessed with the thought of what this could lead to. By the end of it, I lost, and we were out one hundred and fifty grand. Of course he was pissed, but he had pushed and encouraged me to do it knowing the risk. He told me I was responsible for my half, and when I said I didn’t have seventy-five thousand, he confessed it wasn’t his cash.”

“Whose was it?”