Page 3
Chapter 3
Claire
T here’s no sound in my ears as blood rushes through me.
“W-what?”
He repeats the words slowly, as if I hadn’t heard him correctly.
“You are going to marry me.”
I can’t breathe.
The walls of the bar close in on me.
At one point in my life, I’d dreamed of this moment.
I’d lay in bed at my childhood home, planning out Liam and me’s life.
Our wedding would be on the beach.
We’d have a small, private ceremony and he’d make a joke about not letting his parents see him cry as he slid a ring onto my finger.
I’d be wearing a slim fitting wedding dress, having never wanted to wear a ballgown style like so many of my friends talked about.
Everything would be simple, down to my seasonal wildflower bouquet.
I’ve always wanted my wedding to focus on the love between me and Liam.
Then, after the ceremony, he’d take me home and fuck me like he owned me, which would be accurate since we’d have tied our souls together.
I haven’t thought of that dream since the night he made it clear he didn’t want me.
“No,” I whisper, then find my voice.
“Absolutely not.”
I push off the stool, ready to leave.
Liam stands, stopping me.
His large body is a barrier between me and freedom.
I’m not sure if he’s doing it to intimidate me or because of the other diners.
“Why not?”
“I don’t even like you.”
He cocks a brow.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you still smell aroused when I’m around?”
My mouth opens and closes.
“That’s not—you don’t get to—I?—“
“Please. Sit down,” he requests, but the request is really an order.
His tone has me hesitating before obeying.
“Why are you doing this? What happened to letting me pay you back when I graduate and have a career and can actually help you?”
“That was never the deal,” he says.
“You just assumed that’s what it’d be.”
“That’s not fair.”
He takes a sip of his drink and my gaze tracks the movement, the amber liquid sliding down his throat.
“Fair or not, that’s how it is.”
“There’s no way I’m marrying you.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to release the tape.” The room spins and I grip the edge of the table to ground myself.
“I doubt Mrs. Williamson would appreciate learning that her potential new Creative Director has a video floating around out there of her drunk at 16 with four guys.”
I’m spiraling, struggling to breathe at the idea.
Hurt after his rejection, I’d gone to a party the same night and gotten drunk for the first time.
Teenage, reeling me loved the attention and desire those guys were showering me with.
I’d stripped down to my bra and thong, but other than groping, we hadn’t gone any further when suddenly a pissed off Liam was there, throwing punches.
“You wouldn’t,” I breathe out, horrified.
I gulp, bringing my eyes back to his face.
There’s an ice in his eyes that I’ve never seen before.
At that moment I realize I don’t know who this man is anymore.
“It’s—it’s illegal to post revenge porn.”
An eyebrow, one bisected with a scar through it, raises.
“You really think I give a fuck about what’s legal or not?”
My hands are trembling and I press them flat against the table.
This can’t be happening.
This is just a bad dream.
I’ll wake up soon and this will all be a nightmare.
“There’s no way this is really happening.”
“I’m afraid it is,” he confirms.
He drains the last of his whiskey, setting the tumbler down on the table.
“Here’s the deal. You’re going to marry me.”
“Or you’ll release the video,” I whisper, numb.
He simply looks at me until I sigh with defeat.
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
Tomorrow?
!
He can’t be serious.
How am I supposed to break it to my estranged parents, my best friend Lizzy, or my boss?
There’s no way I can ask for time off if I get this new position with Street Dreamers youth charity.
“I need time to get my stuff together, find a venue,” I protest.
Liam can’t know what a wedding takes.
“All of that is already handled. I just need you to show up..”
I blink at him, still struggling to process the reality of this.
I cross my arms over my chest, indignation rising.
“Venue?”
“On the O’Reilly estate.”
My head is shaking back and forth as if it’ll stop him from saying the words.
“Catering? Guest list? Floral arrangements?” My pitch rises with each demand, but Liam doesn’t flinch.
“And, what, am I supposed to just go to the nearest wedding shop in the morning and grab any dress off the rack?”
He lifts a shoulder in a dismissive shrug.
“You’ll be surprised what a lot of money can do for these types of things. Invite whomever you want. As for the dress and everything else? It’s taken care of.”
A blush roars over my cheeks at his implication.
His stoney face turns sensual, a knowing smirk and darkened eyes send a thrill through me.
“Tomorrow night is a full moon, so we’ll marry as my tradition requires. Then I’ll claim you properly under its light, so our union will be blessed.”
I want to laugh at the idea that werewolves would believe such superstitions, but this is the reality of Liam’s world.
The full moon is tomorrow.
I’d read all I could about werewolves when Seth told me about him and his family.
With how distant our parents were, the concept of packs and how family oriented they are made me long to be a part of something like that.
It’s why Liam not attending Seth’s funeral hurt so badly.
They were so close and Liam’s absence was another cut in my already grieving heart.
I could have handled the production my business and political savvy parents turned Seth’s service into if Liam had been there to stand between me and the world.
But he abandoned me.
Liam pulls a black box from his pocket and opens it, bringing me back to focus.
The ring is beautiful, clearly inspired by the Irish Claddagh ring.
Its band, crafted from gleaming gold, twists elegantly, resembling delicate strands of vines to wrap around my finger like a lover’s embrace.
Two golden leaves hold a golden heart with a large round diamond and three smaller, just as stunning smaller diamonds cluster together to create a crown.
Each stone captures the ambient light of the cocktail bar, sparkling with promises of love and loyalty and woven through with tradition.
Promises that don’t ring true for us.
“Give me your hand.”
I obey, mechanically, and he pulls the ring free and slides it onto my left ring finger.
The fit is perfect, like it’s always belonged there.
“There,” Liam says, then clears his throat.
He’s looking down at his open wallet when I manage to look up at him.
He pulls out two crisp hundred dollar bills, more than enough to cover the tab, and sets them under his empty glass.
He moves behind me and grabs my blazer off the back and holds it open for me.
“Let’s get you home. You have a busy day tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 8 am.”
In a daze, I stand and slide my arms into my jacket.
A shiver runs over me as his fingers graze the back of my neck as he eases my hair out from under my jacket.
I grab my clutch from the table and peer at him.
“I work tomorrow.”
Liam’s hand settles at the small of my back and I have to walk forward or look like an idiot fighting the pressure he uses.
“You’re taking the next two weeks off. Your boss will understand and if he doesn’t, I’ll make sure he does. Keys?”
I don’t ask how he knows where I parked or how he got there as I dumbly hand him the keys to my crossover.
The engagement ring catches the glow of the lamplight and he has to prod me to finally sit in the passenger seat of my own car.
All I can think on the way home is how the hell has this happened?
It consumes me the entire silent drive home.
He walks me to my apartment door and when he unlocks it, it breaks me out of my stupor.
“How did you know where I live?” I ask, the accusation plain in my tone.
He gives nothing away as he dips his head and brushes a ghost of a kiss across my lips.
“Remember, 8 am,” he says, as if he hasn’t stolen my breath for the second time that evening.
I stare at him from my doorway as he heads towards the elevator, hands in his front pockets.
As if he feels my gaze, he looks over his shoulder and locks his eyes with mine.
“A bit of advice, mo chroí? Don’t try to run.” He cocks his head in consideration before his smirk turns feral.
“Or, maybe you should. I’d love hunting you down.”