Olivia “Here. Pictures since you didn’t even arrange for a photographer. What would you do
without me? Legal advice, and now free photography? Truly, your cup runneth over.”
Jeremiah sends pictures from the ceremony to both our phones. “And speaking of cups,
don’t forget that bottle of Dom you owe me.” Liam looks at his phone, then grins. “I’ll make
it two.” “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” I check her photos. She captured us staring
at each other in the middle of exchanging vows, the ring going on my finger, the ring going
on his finger, and the kiss shots. The first one isn’t bad, but the one to my forehead is a
heavy punch to the armor around my emotions. It’s good that I didn’t get to see his
expression—I probably would’ve fled in panic. Liam was glowing, like he was out digging in
his garden and just uncovered the Holy Grail. I’m not the kind of prize he should be that
happy about. And he wouldn’t be, if he could see the festering wounds underneath my
mask. Liam and I head out together. “You go ahead, and I’ll follow in my car,” I say, needing
to get some alone time to restore my equilibrium. Never forget: this isn’t about love, just
the justice Mom and Pochi are due. “No, we should go together. Your car isn’t in the system
yet.” He looks slightly abashed. “Sorry, should’ve taken care of that before. But I’ll have
Frederich deal with it and bring your car to the house later.” “Who?” “The resident
butler-slash-majordomo. You’ll love him.” Can’t insist now, and not worth the argument.
“Okay. Let me get my stuff.” I open my trunk and pull out a black clamshell suitcase. He
looks at it. “That’s it?”
“Yeah. Not like I need to bring my own furniture, right?” “No, but...” Hesitation for a
moment, then a tinge of disappointment flashes in his eyes. What’s this about? “What’s
wrong?” He shakes his head. “Nothing. Let’s go.” He takes the suitcase and loads it into his
Spectre. The coupe is stunningly beautiful—and spotless, like he just had it washed. I don’t
recall it being so shiny before. Reluctant affection warms my heart. This marriage isn’t the
most traditional, but he wants to make the best of it. I should play along and make him
happy. He deserves at least that much. Like a gentleman, he opens the door for me. I climb
into the car, then arrange my skirt, my fingers gliding over the smooth ivory silk. I’m glad I
picked the most bridal-looking outfit from my closet. Simon suggested wearing something
bright because vivid shades suit me, but I wanted to put on white, like every normal bride
on her happy day. I place the dahlias on my lap, run my fingers along the petals and enjoy
the ticklish sensation. The gorgeous red stone winks at me as though to say, “Everything’s
going to be fine!” The Spectre’s electric engine stays quiet for the drive, but my heart
pounds like a deafening drum in my head. I’ve researched his family and business, to figure
out who I need to win over and how, in order to make the marriage look as legit as possible
to outsiders. I’ve definitely st epped on some toes by having the courthouse wedding without
informing or inviting any of his family and need to make it up somehow. But I’ve
intentionally avoided looking into his house. I didn’t want to act like a bride full of
anticipation about her bridal home. Think of it like a hotel to stay in. Nothing sentimental.
I’m sure it’ll be nice and comfortable, just like any other decent place. Exc ept... I steal a
quick glance at Liam. Nothing about his smile looks temporary or unromantic. If he were
alone he’d probably be humming... and I’d have to be blind to miss the way he looks at me.
My head says I should discourage him, but the desire to go along and be a real wife until
our contract ends tugs at my heart. After a little over an hour of fighting the Friday
rush-hour traffic, Liam pulls into a private driveway winding through a shockingly lush
garden. Gnarled olive trees rise over a profusion of purple lavender and tall
rosemary hedges. As the Spectre makes a turn, a cutting garden to the side comes into
view, reminding me of the one Mom used to nurture until Deena ripped everything out to
plant tiger lilies instead. Pink, orange and white dahlias bloom in rows like royalty above
others that can’t quite make themselves seen over a thigh-high rock wall. I look down at the
dahlias in my lap. Are they from his garden? Did he cut them and tie them into a bouquet
before coming to the courthouse? I recall the gardenias he gave me last week. That bouquet
seemed pretty rustic—something homemade, not from a professional florist. A sweet pang
goes through me at the notion. It’s just so incredibly thoughtful in ways I can’t even begin
to describe. Mom used to cut flowers from her garden and make little bouquets and crowns
for me. It’s almost like I’ve slipped back to that happier time. I wish I could just enjoy it,
rather than grieve for what I’ve lost. Not lost. Taken from me. I clench my hands. I’ll take
what they value the most in return. It’s only fair. This is the end game, Olivia. My anxiety
isn’t about the marriage, but the final moves I have to execute properly. And the baby. I
place a hand over my belly as I gaze at Liam’s garden. If I didn’t need a baby in order to
kick Hugh, Deena and Brielle off the gravy train, I would never bring one into the world, not
when it might not be safe. My clammy hand curls into a fist over my stomach. But since I
have to... Nothing less than giving them the kind of childhood I had before Mom passed
away will do. And unlike her, I plan to be cautious enough that I don’t ever leave myself
vulnerable or put my baby in pain. They’ll never suffer the kind of life I had after Mom’s
death. Liam stops the car in front of a huge mansion—at least as large as the Whitmore
estate, if not bigger. I open the door and st ep out. The sound of waves fills the briny air.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Liam says with a de ep, dramatic bow. Recalling what he
said about his place at the lawyer’s office, I have to laugh. “Humble, huh?” I look around.
“Well... I guess this will do.” “Glad it meets your expectations.” He grins. I look up and see a
small flock of willets wheel through a sky burning gold in the sunset. Closing my eyes, I
inhale the sea breeze and feel every stale weight leave my heart. “This is amazing. I was
expecting something that felt like a hotel or a model home or something, but this is like...”
“Like...?” “A slice of paradise.” The words tumble out, but they sound right. This place is
perfect—secluded and safe. Despite the grand size, it already feels like a home, a place
where I can be at peace. I haven’t felt this way in a long, long time... and that’s dangerous.
Even my Century City condo is a place where I lurk and strategize, reminding myself of my
purpose. It’ll be too easy to lose myself here. “Let’s go in.” Liam takes the suitcase from the
trunk and extends a hand, just like he did in the alley. I look down at his strong fingers, then
the steady set of his eyes. My heart does a little pirouette. Girl, you’re in trouble. The smart
thing would be to st ep back, pretend I don’t see his hand. But I don’t want to be smart right
now. I don’t want to see a shadow of pain in his eyes from rejecting a nice, simple gesture. I
remember the times in college when he stood by me rather than Brielle—by me—and the
way his lips compressed with barely restrained fury at Tyler’s disrespect in Kingswood
Stones & Designs. Even after all these years, he has the ability to make me feel carefree,
like I can do whatever I want and he’ll back me up one hundred percent, no questions
asked. I haven’t experienced this kind of support since Mom passed away. And I don’t want
to let go of it. Not now. I can probably let my guard down a little, just when he’s around,
only when we’re home. Mom wouldn’t want me on my toes all the time. Grasping a little
sliver of happiness here and there is probably okay. I thread my fingers through his. A smile
breaks over his handsome face as he squeezes. “This way, Mrs. Kingswood.” “Thank you,
Mr. Kingswood.” My voice is carefree, matching his. He takes me inside the two-story
contemporary structure. If the outside was beautiful, the inside is... “Oh my God.” My jaw
drops. One entire ocean-facing wall is made of glass and opens completely to a view of the
Pacific, nothing between us and a terrace that extends out over the bluff. The sound of
waves pounding into the rocks and sand comes up like a boisterous welcome from nature.
Lots of warm greige, leather and natural stone give the house an air of quiet moneyed
elegance. I st ep further in, my stilettos clicking on the stone floor.
“You like?” I circle around to look at him with a wide smile. “Yes.” I reach the center of the
house, then stop. A shiny white Steinway baby grand sits to my left, in the part of the living
room with windows that overlook Santa Monica Bay. The setting sun lends it a beautiful
golden sheen. It’s the kind of instrument for a show or a serious musician. But Liam isn’t
the type to show off. He doesn’t need to. So what’s he doing with a piano that costs twice as
much as my Audi? “You didn’t lie about not playing, did you?” I ask, my mouth a little dry.
“No. Music really isn’t my forte.” “Then... Did it come with the house?” Please say yes. He
shakes his head. “I’m the first owner.” My chin wobbles as I recall the conversation we had
over the blue crystal piano charm hanging in his car. “How long have you had it?” “It came
this week. The dealer in San Francisco had a unit made in Hamburg, and I snatched it up
before anybody else could.” His voice is quiet, but his eyes are sparkling with anticipation
over my reaction. I walk slowly toward it. The piano is absolutely gorgeous, just like the
Bösendorfer Mom used to have. Deena put it into storage after moving in with Brielle,
saying its “ostentatious presence” made people uncomfortable. I run a shaking hand over
the cool flawless lacquer. “I haven’t played in so long.” He nods. “Well, it’ll be here. For
whenever you’re ready.” “You were supposed to have a humble hut with just enough space
for the two of us.” “And our babies. Remember?” Despite his light tone, the words create
unshakably vivid pictures in my mind. Of a small girl with Liam’s eyes watching me play. Of
a small boy with Liam’s build chasing after a puppy in the garden, while Liam and I smile
and look on. The vision is so achingly beautiful my heart clenches with longing. “Mom
taught me to play Gershwin on ours,” I manage, after a beat to control my reaction. “You
must’ve been talented.” “She was the talented one. She had this magical ability to make
everything easy. When she was with me, learning to play the piano was a snap. I thought I
could conquer the world.” I realize my fingers are moving
over the piano, like I’m playing the opening of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, and pull my
hand away from the Steinway. I’m not quite ready to lose myself in the memories. A
moment of distraction could cost me the entire endgame. And I wouldn’t be the only one
hurt; now that we’re married, Liam would become collateral damage. Suddenly the image
of Liam lying at the bottom of a staircase pops into my mind. Air catches in my throat. I
clench my teeth to stop them from chattering. Stop being so melodramatic. Deena and
Brielle can’t do anything to make Liam fall down a flight of stairs. And I’m not an innocent
ten-year-old child who didn’t know the kind of evil that exists in the world. I won’t lose him
the way I did Mom. Liam waits a beat, but when I don’t continue, takes the bouquet from
my hand. “We can have these put in water. Are you hungry, by the way? It’s almost seven.”
“Yeah.” The response comes out too hoarsely; I clear my throat. “Starving.” I force a smile,
glad for the change of topic. A wiry man comes from the other side of the house. His hair is
silver and impeccably slicked back, revealing a high forehead. He’s dressed all in white,
from the starched jacket and shirt to slacks. Either he just changed or he’s very good at
avoiding dirt—his clothes are spotless. His pale gray eyes warm as he takes me in. “Ah,
you’re finally here. Splendid. I’m Frederich. Olivia Desmond, I presume?” “Kingswood,”
Liam corrects him before I can nod. “Of course. Terribly rude of me to forget.” Frederich
doesn’t sound sorry. “Then again, it is easy to forget that which one doesn’t experience
first-hand. Such as a wedding ceremony.” “Only one person was invited,” Liam grumbles.
“Is that so?” Frederich turns his steely gaze toward me. “Actually... two,” I say in a small
voice, feeling like a kid caught stealing a cookie. A sensation I haven’t felt in twenty years.
“Did you hear that, Liam? Your wife disagrees. Which of you is correct?” Liam rolls his eyes.
“Obviously my wife is correct. But do you have to sulk? Act your age, old man.” Frederich
turns to me. “Olivia, you are a vision in white. As for dinner, it’s just something simple,
some grilled sea bream with French tarragon
sauce. My secret recipe.” He leans forward slightly. “Not even Liam’s brother, Silas, has it.”
I laugh. “Thank you.” “I’d rather drizzle it down the cliffs outside than feed it to this
ungrateful child, but you’re here.” A glimmer of affection twinkles in his eyes. Despite
myself, I smile. “I’m sure the dinner will be delightful.”