In tight leggings and lime-green running shoes, Percey drew more attention than the human-sized penguin ice statue in the middle of the goddamned ballroom. The second man, Harkness, was little better off with shorts, tank top, and a mulish expression. At least the pair hadn’t ventured much past the front door, but even that was more than enough.
Unsurprisingly, a determined-looking manager was already making her way to Liam.
“I apologize for intruding on your evening,” the young woman said with polite deference that in no way hid her disapproval, “but I understand you have a security team on duty at the gala today. They are more than welcome to attend, but this is a black-tie event, and I’m afraid their choice of attire is somewhat casual for the occasion.”
Liam was extra careful in setting down his champagne flute, lest he shatter the crystal into bits. “You have my sincere apologies, Marla.” He inclined his head at the manager, his voice tight. “And you will have theirs too, if they are still able to put syllables together by the time I’m done with them. Excuse me.”
Harkness and Percey needed no more than a glance from Liam to know to follow him out into the hallway, tension crackling around the pair with enough force to make the air prickle. The men were nervous. They were fucking right to be nervous. They’d be right to be terrified. As it was, it took all Liam’s self-control to wait until they turned a corner into a relatively private corridor before he wheeled on them. Murder flashed in his eyes. He knew it did.
The men stiffened, their military training causing them to stand at attention despite the civilian environment, their faces schooled in preparation for the tsunami they fully knew they deserved.
“Explain.” Liam addressed Percey, who was supposed to be in charge.
“We thought Ms. Keasley was going for a run. By the time we realized she had alternative plans, it was too late to adjust.” The young man didn’t meet Liam’s gaze.
“The dress didn’t tip you off?”
“She, err, hid it under running clothes.”
“So let me get this straight,” Liam enunciated every word, heat filling his blood. “Your goddamn job was to watch the environment for unusual behavior and stop potential trouble before it started. And with all those fucking powers of observation, you missed an evening dress and bright red sandals? How the hell are you going to mark a suicide vest on a hostile you get a glimpse of when you can’t see that the five-foot woman you have cameras trained on is dressed for a black-tie event?”
Silence.
“Those weren’t rhetorical questions,” Liam barked. “Answer me.”
“Stop bullying them.” A light soprano voice that Liam really, really didn’t want to hear just injected itself into the conversation. High heels ticked against the polished wood floor until Jaz Keasley herself parked that tight cocktail dress that hugged her body right at Liam’s shoulder. The rubies in her ears underscored her already beautiful eyes, and her small breasts perked up visibly under the silk in the hotel’s air-conditioning.
It made Liam want to throw a blanket over her.
Crossing her arms under her breasts, Jaz leveled him with a glare, though it required tipping her head back. “I’ve made my feelings on a security team clear to you. Percey and Harkness are guilty of nothing but having the poor judgment to work for an asshole.”
“This has nothing to do with you or your feelings, Jazmine. Go back to the party.”
“Nothing to do with me? What universe did you get beamed up from?” Jaz scoffed.
This was insane. She was insane. Liam’s jaw tightened, but he checked his body and voice to the kind of self-control civilization expected from humans. “I am disciplining my men. I would appreciate it if you get the hell out of my sight just now.”
“And let you take your temper out on two people who can do nothing to defend themselves? Like hell.”
The defenseless special forces men shifted their weight uncomfortably.
Jaz raised her chin. “I’ve been tormenting your team all week to make a point. But since these two proved to be more stoic and honorable than you deserve to have your employees be, I needed to take my message to the root. This is my doing, Liam. Mine. And in case you’re still having trouble reading the writing on the wall, let me spell it out for you: You don’t get to force something on me. Not you, not my parents, not my brother. So long as you keep sending teams to stalk me, I’ll keep making Trident Security look like a loony bin.”
Despite her small stature, Jaz’s presence filled the whole corridor, and Liam was starting to wish that the tongue-tying discomfort that seemed to afflict most women who talked to him had some effect on Kyan’s younger sister.
It didn’t.
“This evening was the opening volley, Liam. You keep going toe to toe with me, and the next time I show you up, I’ll make sure there are cameras around. I’ll turn this detail into a PR nightmare worthy of a Hollywood blockbuster. Am I clear? That’s not a rhetorical question.”
5
Jaz
Jaz kept her gaze locked on Liam’s as he made a motion to dismiss Percy and Harkness. Hearing their sneakers whisper softly against the floor, she made a thick mark on the internal scoreboard that had been ticking inside her heart all evening. She wasn’t so naive as to think Liam would concede the whole bout, declare her victor, and go away—but he did have the next move.
She just wished she had some inkling of what the man was thinking as he tugged his gold cuff links inside their crispy slots. Liam looked good in a tuxedo. Hell, he looked good in anything, which was a large part of the problem. Liam had always been glorious, the kind of perfect-bodied man that turned heads whenever he walked down the street. All her brother’s friends were fit, but something about Liam’s slight curl of hair at the nape and piercing hazel eyes had captured Jaz since she was little. Just a pesky younger sister of the popular older brother.
Unlike the others, and especially Kyan, who’d never had the time of day for Jaz’s presence, Liam had talked to her. Acknowledged her existence. He hadn’t gotten along with his family, and one year when Jaz was twelve, he’d spent the summer bouncing between his friends’ houses. Which was when little Jaz had written her deepest heartfelt thoughts into a letter and delivered it to Liam. The expression of her feelings had culminated in a suggestion that the two of them meet in private in the middle of the night. She’d had an image of lying with him in an open field and watching the stars. Of feeling his lips on hers.
Her heart had raced as she gave him the note. Watched him open it. Watched his face turn an angry kind of red that was not at all what she’d expected. Instead of letting her go gently, Liam had marched both her and the letter right to Kyan and then to their parents.
She hadn’t just been humiliated, but to add insult to injury, her parents had grounded her for trying to make plans to sneak out with a boy with no one knowing.
The hurt feelings of a tween were long gone, but that incident had opened her eyes to Liam’s controlling nature. He’d had a notion of what was and wasn’t appropriate for Jaz, and he used any means he had at his disposal to enforce it. As they’d gotten older, she saw that scenario play out over and over in many ways. In the orders he’d issued to his girlfriends. In his high-handed manner. She wasn’t surprised when Liam discovered his more sensual preferences lay in power-exchange relationships.