Page 44 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Liam

I sprawl back in my seat and survey the glass of whiskey in my hand.

It’s only noon, but what the hell? It must be six p.m. somewhere in the world, right?

I take a sip, and the alcohol goes down smoothly.

It hits my stomach and sets off a pleasant heat.

My computer screen dings with an incoming email.

For the first time in my entire career, I can’t be bothered.

I shut down my computer, then pick up my glass of whiskey again.

My phone rings. It’s a FaceTime call from my mother.

Damn. How does she know when it’s the most inopportune time to call me?

I can’t ignore her call. I can’t. I hit the audio on the FaceTime call.

"Liam? Why are you on audio?" my mother demands.

"Because I don’t want you to see me on video," I retort.

"Are you being impertinent, young man?"

I wince. The only person a grown man can still fear is his mother, apparently.

I place my glass on the desk. Then for good measure, push it to the side, so there’s no chance of it being seen on screen.

Not that I have anything to hide from her, but it would take a lot of explaining.

And even then, I’m not sure I’d be able to convince her of my necessity to drink at midday.

I turn on the video screen and my mother’s face appears.

"There you are," she smiles at me.

"Hello, mother." I roll my shoulders, trying to loosen the knots in them.

"Why do you look so tired? And you’ve lost weight since I last saw you."

"I’m busy, mother. It’s the middle of a working day."

"Not so busy that you’ve been drinking."

I gape, then snap my teeth together. "I haven’t been drinking."

"Oh, psst. You think I don’t know you and your brother used to sneak whiskey from your father’s bar when you were teenagers?"

"You knew?" I ask cautiously. Where is she going with this?

"A mother always knows," she says archly. "Like I know you’re sulking right now."

"Mother, I don’t sulk."

"And it’s because you had a fight with your new wife."

"We didn’t have a fight."

Not unless you count the fact that she needs space, and I don’t understand what she means by that.

Why the hell does she want to put distance between us?

Can’t she stay under my roof and work out whatever it is she needs to work out?

Why is it that she has to go off to a friend’s place for that?

It can only mean she doesn’t want to be with me, but she’s fine to be with her friends.

So, she doesn’t really need space in an abstract concept; she only wants to keep me at arm’s length.

I place my phone on the table then jump up and begin to pace.

"Your restlessness tells me otherwise." My mother’s voice follows me. "I assume she wants something and you want something else?"

"Isn’t that the definition of marriage?"

"It’s the definition of life. Marriage is when you try to find common ground."

"You’re going to tell me next to compromise." I crack my neck.

"Do you want to compromise?"

"I don’t think I should be having this conversation with my mother."

"On the contrary. Given I have thirty years more experience at being married than you, I’m the right person to tell you that you need to follow your instinct."

"And what if my instinct says to go against what she asked me for?" I grip the back of my chair. "She wanted some space to figure out where her head’s at."

"That sounds reasonable. Getting married is a big change for anyone. But the woman seems to take the brunt of it, in most cases. Remember, you knew you were heading toward getting married for a while, but you only gave her a few days to adjust to it. And then, she’s the one who’s had to leave her home and move in with you.

It stands to reason, that’s a lot of change to digest."

"It’s not only that; she seems to have something on her mind she’s grappling with. But apparently, she doesn’t trust me enough to tell me about it." I rub at my temple.

"Maybe she doesn’t trust herself enough," my mother says softly.

"Maybe."

"Either way, I’m sure the two of you’ll work things out." My mother’s features soften. "What you’re going through is no different from what many couples go through. I’m sure you guys will figure things out."

"Somehow, I’m not that sure."

She laughs. "It’s the first time I’ve heard you voice doubt about something."

"Apparently, it’s the time for many firsts in my life." I lean over and pick up the phone. "Thanks for the advice, Mother."

"Oh hang on, I almost forgot why I called you. Nadine and I want to jointly host you and Isla for lunch at her place, this Sunday."

I shuffle my feet. "Considering she’s not staying with me at the moment, I’m not sure if that’s possible."

"You underestimate the power of mothers." Her eyes gleam.

I scowl, "What have the two of you planned?

"Nothing. Can’t we have our children over for a family lunch?"

"Don’t try the innocent act, Mother."

She laughs. "This is completely harmless, I promise. You bring yourself. I’m sure Nadine will ensure Isla turns up."

If I can get to see Isla this way, then sure, I’ll go.

My mother must read the satisfaction on my face, for she nods. "Good, I’ll see you at twelve-thirty. At Nadine’s place. Don’t be late."

She hangs up. I place the phone back on the desk when the door opens.

I glance up, and it’s as if a bolt of thunder has hit me in my chest. My lungs burn.

My throat closes. Every pore in my body seems to stand to attention.

For there, framed in the doorway, is Isla.

She’s wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with a leather jacket over it.

Her face is makeup free, yet she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

She steps inside the room, then shuts the door behind her. I straighten and watch her as she approaches. She circles the desk, places her handbag on it, then pauses in front of me.

She tips up her chin and her blue eyes hold mine. I search her features, trying to read her mood, but for the first time, I’m unable to. If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say it’s a mixture of surprise, mixed with a little bit of fear, all of which is underlined with a sense of resolve.

We glance at each for a few seconds, then she holds out her hand. "Liam."

I take her hand, raise it and kiss her knuckles.

Her features crumple. She tries to pull away but I hold on. "Isla, baby."

"Don’t. Please. I need to tell you something first, and if you act so tender, I won’t be able to."

"What is it?" I look between her eyes. "You can tell me anything, LadyBird."

She swallows. "Please, let me go." There’s so much pain in her voice, so much anxiety, so much everything. A cold hand grips my heart. "What is it?"

She tugs on her hand again, and this time, I let her go. She draws in a breath and squares her shoulders.

"Karina Beauchamp came to see me today."

"Oh?" I narrow my gaze.

"She told me what you did."

"What did I do?" I keep my tone casual.

"All this time, I was wondering why there hasn’t been any trolling or anything negative about our wedding.

I thought it was because I’d misjudged the level of interest in our lives.

I thought maybe people didn’t care that I was the wedding planner before I became the bride.

I should have known that was not the case.

I should have known it was thanks to you that the reaction to our wedding was largely positive. "

I hold her gaze for a few seconds, then nod. "She told you."

"She told me how you asked her to shut down the trolls. To reach out to the influencers and pay them enough to ensure they’d only say positive things."

I raise a shoulder. "It was important to me that you not get stressed over the announcement. I wanted you to enjoy our honeymoon. I take care of what’s mine, Isla."

She shakes her head. "I should have known you’d do something like this. Should have known you’d use your influence and power to shut down anyone who’d dare raise a voice against our wedding."

"You were worried about it. I knew how to defuse the situation. I did it."

She half-laughs. "Only you would be arrogant enough to be able to shut down the internet itself."

"Not the internet. Only those who’d have misused it to cause you pain."

"I don’t even know what to say to that." She rubs her forehead.

"Don’t say anything. I don’t regret what I did. I’d do it all over again if I had a chance."

"Do you want me to thank you for it?"

"Do you want to thank me for it?"

She bites down on her lower lip, and my cock twitches.

Blasted thing has a mind of its own, and right now, is not the time to think how gorgeous she looks.

How her strength comes through in her clear-eyed gaze.

How she holds herself. She’s on a mission.

And there’s nothing as hot as a woman who knows her mind.

My woman. This firecracker of a female is all mine.

"Isla?" I soften my voice. "What is it?"

She swallows, then squares her shoulders. "There’s something I need to do." She picks out her phone from her bag, opens the camera, switches it to selfie mode then holds it up and asks, "Do you mind?"

I glance at the phone, then back at her. "You want me to hold the phone up so you can shoot a video?"

She nods.

"Is this for your social media feed?"

She nods again.

"Do you want to announce that we’re splitting?"

She doesn’t reply. Any emotion I saw on her face before is gone, replaced with steely determination.

"You do want to announce that we’re splitting."

"Please, can you just hold up the camera?"

My pulse booms in my ears. A trickle of sweat runs down my back.

The only other time I was this scared was the day I refused to do as my kidnapper demanded.

I looked at his face and knew, that was the day I was going to escape or die trying.

No, I lie. That was easier. I had nothing to lose then, except my life.

Today, I’m going to lose more than my life. I’m going to lose her.

"Liam, please," she whispers. Something shines deep in her eyes. A plea. An appeal. An entreaty. I can’t refuse her. I never have been able to refuse her. All she has to do is ask, and I’ll always give her anything she asks for.

I’d set the world on fire for her. I’ll fight her enemies. Kill anyone who dares hurt her.

But what do I do when I’m the person she seems to not want to let into her life?

I take the phone, trying to hide the tremor that grips me, and hold it up.

She steps up closer so she’s standing in the circle of my arms, then turns so we are framed on screen.

Her gaze meets mine in the camera. She nods, and I feel equal parts dread and relief.

I don’t know what to expect, but I start recording because that’s what she asked me to do.

For a few seconds, we stay silent. Then she speaks to the camera, "There’s something I need to tell you.

Something I’ve hidden from you. Something I haven’t been able to admit myself.

But the time has come that I need to do this for myself, and for so many others like me who haven’t been able to share their true selves with the world.

This is for them, and for my husband. But most of all, this is for me.

" She raises her gaze to mine once again.

"No more hiding," she whispers, then reaches up and pulls off her hair.