Olivia I stare at Auric in shock. Is he kidding? What happened to “hello,” “how are you,” or
“nice to meet you”? He continues, “He just doesn’t seem hot or rich enough to bother with.
You could definitely do better.” His tone implies that “better” might be himself. Elita runs
her fingers along his forearm, but her eyes remain on my face. “Unless he’s amazing in bed.
But he doesn’t have that vibe, if you know what I mean.” “He’s totally unworthy,” I answer
blandly. No reason for them to know that I never even sl ept with him. “I’m so glad. It would
have been awful if my instincts had become rusty.” She laughs. Auric sighs, then gestures
at Liam. “Look at him, all settled and proper. And to think we might have missed his
presence. His nice new wife, too.” “I know.” Elita smiles. “I’m glad you convinced me to
ke ep him.” What are they talking about? Might have missed his presence? To ke ep him?
Auric leans toward his wife until his forehead rests on her temple. “And I’m glad you
listened to me. I was so scared that you might not.” “Well, honey, you have a certain way of
convincing me.” She lets out a trilling laugh. Just based on their tone, the exchange seems
casual and breezy. But Liam tenses next to me, and his smile goes tight. An abrupt
realization hits me like a sledgehammer: he is the child that these two considered not
having, after having six sons previously. And they’re making a bragging sort of joke out of
it, like it somehow proves that they’re good, responsible people. They don’t seem to give a
damn that
what’s coming out of their mouths hurts their child. They’re too busy tittering and
congratulating themselves to notice my cold stare. Or maybe they simply don’t care. I draw
in air slowly, stomping on an urge to slap the smugness off them. Their casual cruelty is
actually worse than Hugh’s more in-your-face variety. At least with the latter, you can
punch back. I glance at Sorcha and Cedric, but neither seems inclined to say anything on
Liam’s behalf. For God’s sake, hasn’t anybody in this family bothered to shield him from his
parents? Frederich appears to clear the table and serve a beef consommé. He doesn’t seem
to notice that most of the caviar was untouched. Auric shifts his attention back to me. “In
case you didn’t know, Liam was completely accidental—” “You mean vital. Completely
vital.” My voice grows sharper than a razor blade. “And the most important person—my life
partner.” I take Liam’s cool hand, place it on the table, and thread my fingers with his,
wishing I could warm his heart, too. I give him a bright, adoring smile, the kind a sweet
husband deserves from his wife. And it’s worth it to see the light return to his eyes. “I don’t
know what my life would be like without him,” I add, my eyes still on his. “We’ve known
each other since college.” “College? But he never said anything,” Auric says,
half-dismissive, half-defensive. Liam shakes his head with a quiet sigh. I raise an eyebrow.
“Maybe he did, and you just weren’t paying attention.” “Well, I suppose Liam is important.
After all, he’s your husband.” Elita giggles, her eyes slightly glazed. I thought she was
drinking water, but it’s probably vodka. She continues, “You’re so cute together. I’m thrilled
you’re part of the family now, Olivia.” “Of course, it’s lovely to know Liam found himself a
wife who can get along with his parents. They have so much in common,” Sorcha says. Her
sarcasm is thick enough to fill the entire house. She obviously doesn’t approve of Auric and
Elita’s mindset. Why does she think I’m like them? “Of course, I’d get along with my
husband’s family,” I say. “My mother raised me well.” “Your mother?” Sorcha squints for a
moment, pulling up memories. “Ah. Constance Whitmore.”
My heart trembles for a beat at the dry way she speaks my mom’s name. Now it’s Liam who
squeezes my hand. And it’s enough to anchor my emotions. “That’s right. She taught me so
much about love and marriage.” I smile. She taught me love is unreliable; even with love,
marriage can be a trap, and men can lie even while having a child with you. Most
importantly, she taught me that if you don’t have the power to protect those who matter the
most, you can’t afford to love them. I turn my head briefly to meet Liam’s gaze. We must
look like a loving couple to everyone present. But inside my head, I wonder if Liam could
betray me, too. Exc ept I just can’t visualize it. Can’t picture him falling for Brielle’s
superficial charms and schemes. Can’t imagine him agreeing with Hugh, no matter what
sort of pressure is brought to bear. But I also know I’m not strong enough to protect him.
That’s the reason I hesitated to choose him for this charade of a marriage. But regardless of
what happens, I will not regret my decision. Even if this whole scheme falls apart, the
happiness I’ve had with Liam is real. And I’d give up everything to ke ep him safe. Frederich
appears again to take the beef consommé nobody has consumed and serve sole meunière.
Guilt niggles at me—he must’ve worked hard on the food. I pick up my fork and take a bite
of the fish. The rich, buttery flavor with a delicate hint of lemon bursts in my mouth. I
almost wish I could ask him to bring back the consommé. “Your mother was a nice woman,”
Sorcha says softly, dragging me back to the conversation. “A bit flighty, but dignified. The
poor choice she made in her husband was unfortunate. She should have ensured the trust
dictated that the second he betrayed her, he would get nothing. It isn’t as though you need
him as your guardian.” “You’re right,” I say. “He’s as necessary as a rat in the kitchen.”
“Precisely.” Sorcha’s diction grows stiffer. “So why Liam? You have an acc eptable
background, and you could have married anybody. And why so sudden? You waited
twelve—” “Grandmother,” Liam says. Sorcha’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t back down. “That’s
enough. Sometimes things don’t work out the first time.”
I squeeze his hand and turn to Sorcha. “He’s right. The timing wasn’t good back then. I was
very busy with school and didn’t have the bandwidth for anything exc ept coursework. Then
we went our s eparate ways after graduation. But we reconnected when Tyler and I went to
Kingswood Stones & Designs to get our wedding jewelry. It seems almost... fated.” “I’m sure
Liam gave her something amazing to celebrate this ‘fate,’” Elita says to Sorcha, who sets
her blazing eyes on the younger woman. I lift my hand so Elita can see the Rubedo. She
gasps. “I begged him for that stone!” Her gaze sharpens with the sting of betrayal. “I never
said I’d give it to you,” he says flatly. “Is that any way to speak to your mother?” Auric
demands. “Perhaps she shouldn’t have made it sound like it had her name on it,” Liam
shoots back. “It’s my stone. I can give it to whoever I want, and I want to give it to my wife.”
“Thank you,” I say, then put my left hand on his cheek to turn his face toward me and kiss
him. “Oh fine. Wife before mother, what else is new?” Elita whines with an eye-roll. “You’re
lucky, Olivia. He has an amazing aesthetic sense. That’s another reason why I’m so glad
that he’s with us. He gives me the most beautiful gifts for Mother’s Day.” I look into the
woman’s eyes. She’s completely oblivious. “And I hope you give something equally nice for
his birthdays.” Elita blinks. “I’m sure my assistant sent something suitable.” Liam presses
his lips together, probably debating whether he wants to flee or stay. He hasn’t touched a
bite, even though he must be starving. Time to wind down this farce. I turn to Sorcha. “I
know everything has been sudden, and consequently this dinner was rushed as well.”
Translation: That’s the reason your son and his wife don’t know how to behave themselves
because they haven’t been properly briefed. “Yes. Very unfortunate.” Sorcha’s spine grows
impossibly erect. “Therefore, I brought something to liven things up and end the night on a
high note.” I hand her a stunning guilloché imperial-blue leather folio with a gold flat
grosgrain ribbon closure and a burgundy Fabergé private client wax seal at the overlap.
Sorcha’s eyebrows jump. Inside is the commission
documentation on heavy cream-colored stock paper. I researched her and commissioned a
bespoke piece the moment Liam said yes to the marriage proposition: a music box that will
play the pas de deux from Act II of Giselle, with the heroine performing its famous
arabesque. She’ll spin as the melody flows from the piece. “I watched the video of you
performing the pas de deux in Paris fifty years ago. It was one of the most magnificent
Giselles I’ve seen, only bested by the one you did in Moscow a year later. I hope this small
token of familial affection pleases you.” Her eyelashes flicker as she reads the documents
and studies the design sketches. The ballerina’s created to look exactly like her. “You do
your homework.” “A gift that doesn’t move your heart isn’t a gift worth giving.” She lifts her
head to stare straight into my eyes. “You are indeed worthy of the Whitmore name, despite
your father.” Cedric laughs. “This is truly wonderful. My child, you set the bar so high for
me.” “I’ve set the bar high for everyone.” I give him another folio, presented the same way.
“The ballerina doesn’t turn in this one. But I think you’ll absolutely love it because it’s
Sorcha’s piqué penché en pointe.” His eyes widen as he stops in the middle of opening the
folio. “I read that you saw her in that pose in Giselle and fell in love with her.” “I did.” He
presses a hand over his chest. “This is amazing.” “The pieces will arrive by the date in the
folio. I’m sorry that I couldn’t bring them with me. Art takes time.” “You can’t rush
perfection.” Sorcha runs her hand over the folio, wistfulness bleeding into her eyes. “What
about me?” Auric says. Elita also leans forward, her eyes flashing with eagerness. They
must be out of their minds to believe I would give them Fabergé bespoke pieces, especially
after having me witness them making Liam feel small and unwanted. Still... they are his
parents. I paste on a dry smile. “Unlike Fabergé, I can’t guarantee when it will come. A
grandchild is unpredictable like that.” Auric laughs. “Now that’s perfect.” His eyes dart to
Sorcha. “Don’t you agree, Mother?”
“You love bouncing little babies on your knees,” Elita adds like a sycophant. “I don’t bounce
babies. I hold them like a dignified, sensible adult.” “Bouncing is what I do,” Cedric says.
Elita gives me a sly look. “Are you already pregnant? Is that why the wedding was so
rushed?” “No,” I say. “It wasn’t.” She deflates a little. “Great-grandchildren are perfect for
distraction,” she mutters. Sorcha gives Elita the frostiest look I’ve seen so far. “Now that
I’ve delivered the gifts, I’d like to head home if you don’t mind. I haven’t been feeling well
all day—a low-grade migraine—and I have an early day tomorrow.” “That’s unfortunate.
Frederich hasn’t served the entrée yet,” Cedric says, the skin around his eyes much more
relaxed now after the folio. “I hope you feel better, my child,” Sorcha says. “Thank you.” I
turn to Liam. “Can you drive us home, my love?”