“Don’t avoid the question.”
Aggravated now, I look away and huff out a breath. “Fine. I chose criminal defense because I know firsthand how shitty the justice system is for people who can’t afford a good lawyer. If you’re poor and you’ve been accused of a crime, you’re fucked, regardless of your guilt or innocence. There are no country club prisons for poor folks, only politicians, hedge fund managers, and millionaires.”
There’s a pause, then Liam murmurs, “Freedom for the wolves has often meant death to the sheep.”
When I look at him askance, he says, “It’s a quote from Isaiah Berlin.”
“It’s morbid.”
“It’s the truth. There are only two kinds of people in the world: predator or prey. The poor are always prey. Poverty is helplessness. Which apparently you know.”
We stare at each other, unblinking.
The waiter—who, as it turns out, has impeccable timing—returns holding two plates. He sets them down in front of us with a flourish and explains what he’s serving. In Italian, so I’m stumped.
When he leaves, Liam says, “I asked the chef to do a tasting menu for us. That way you can try little bites of all the best items on the menu. I hope that’s all right.”
I wrestle with my irritation for a moment, before replying, “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”
Liam observes me eat, all clattering cutlery and scowls, until he says, “You’re angry with me again.”
I collapse against the back of my chair, sighing. “It’s just that digging in graveyards is dangerous. Sooner or later, you’re going to uncover something bad.”
He looks at me like I’m the most interesting creature on earth. “I couldn’t agree more.”
That’s a loaded statement if I’ve ever heard one. But he doesn’t give me a chance to dwell on it before going in another direction with the Random Question Interrogation.
“Do you take after your mother or your father?”
“My mother, for sure. My dad’s helpless. Leave him alone for ten minutes and something will either be burning, exploding, or flooded. He’s a walking danger zone. Without my mother keeping an eye on him, he’d have accidentally killed himself years ago.”
Thinking of him, I can’t help but smile. “It was a lot of fun growing up with a father like that, though. He was like another one of the kids, always inventing new games for us to play. He has the best imagination. And he’s the only person I’ve ever met who lives fully in the present. He never looks back, not for a second. He’s kind of this big, goofy, cowboy Zen master, bumbling around causing trouble while at the same time happily eating life with both hands.”
Realizing I’m babbling, I stop talking abruptly and take another swallow of wine.
If Liam examines me any more closely, he’ll be peering inside the atoms that make up my bones.
“Your cheeks are red.”
“That’s just from all the blood pulsing in them. Stop looking at me like that and it will go away.”
“I don’t want it to go away. I love it when you blush for me.” When I move restlessly in my chair, his voice drops. “And when you squirm.”
I prop an elbow on the table and cover my eyes with a hand. “I wish you didn’t see me so clearly.”
He reaches across the table and takes my wrist, moving my hand away from my face so I can see his expression, all flashing eyes and need.
“No, you don’t. You love it.”
His fingers are on the pulse point on my wrist, so I know he can feel how my heartbeat ticks up. How wildly it starts to beat, stirred by the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice, and the heat scorching the air between us.
“You’re right. I do love it.” I take a breath. “And you love it that I see you, too.”
His fingers tighten around my wrist. He says nothing, but his eyes are on fire.
The waiter comes back, bearing more plates. Liam shoots him a threatening look, and he turns around and goes back from where he came.
When he’s gone, Liam says, “I meant what I said. I won’t pressure you to sleep with me.”
The heat in my cheeks flames hotter.
“But you will be sleeping with me. In my bed. Understood?”
I exhale a shaky breath. “Why?”
“Because I need you,” comes the hard response. “And if I can’t have you one way, I’m damn sure going to have you the other.”
“What about what I need?”
“What is it you think you need?”
“My freedom of choice, for one thing.”
He looks at me for a beat, then releases my wrist. He relaxes back into his chair and folds his hands in his lap. “Why don’t you go to the ladies’ room. It’s right around that corner.”
Mystified, I look in the direction he’s pointing. When I look back at him, he’s gazing calmly at me, as if his suggestion made sense.
“I don’t need to use the restroom.”
“Don’t you?”
What. The. Hell. “No, Liam, I don’t.”
“I think you do.”
His eyes glitter. There’s something behind them I don’t understand, but I do know that he’s got a reason for wanting me to go to the restroom.
I debate with myself for a moment, then push back my chair.
I cross the courtyard and turn in the direction he pointed. As soon as I’m out of his sight, I pause for a moment, resting my hand on the rough brick wall to give my heart a chance to recover. When it slows to a more normal beat, I continue down the walkway, passing the men’s room. There’s an arrow on the wall indicating the women’s toilet is around another corner to the right.
I turn the corner and stop dead, staring.
The ladies’ room door is there, as the sign said it would be. But ten feet beyond it is a break in the building where there’s no wall or doorway, just an open arch leading to the street outside.
My heart starts to pound.
I could walk right out that arch and be gone. Which, obviously, he knows.
He’s giving me a choice.
I stand there thinking for what seems like a long time, but might only be seconds.
Then I exhale the pent-up breath I’ve been holding, push open the ladies’ room door, and go inside.
22
Tru
When I return to the table, new food has appeared and the old plates have been cleared. Liam is finishing his glass of wine.
I sit. We eat in silence only interrupted by the reappearance of the waiter to clear plates and bring new dishes. I drink two glasses of wine in quick succession, not bothering to try to figure out what it means that I didn’t run away.
I don’t need to wonder. I already know.
This is an absolute disaster in the making.
When all the dinner plates have been cleared and we’re sipping cappuccinos, Liam says, “You left your handbag in the car last night. I asked Declan to bring it into the library.”
The handbag with my phone in it, he means. The phone I’m not going to use to make an emergency call to the police, or anyone else, to come and rescue me.
“Why are you shaking your head?”