swelling where she had been assaulted with the butt of a gun, Liam's scent, as he neared, as he straightened her out, as he drew his jacket over her shoulders, became the scent she associated with him always.
Initially he had instilled the same fear as Nunzio Romano. He was, after all, a mafia king even though he ran respectable businesses as well. At the time she had thought she was going from one cruel man who owned her father to another who would own her.
But she had been wrong.
Liam cherished her. He treasured her. He protected her and gave her everything she wanted, and while it had taken a few months for him to earn her trust, once he had won her over, she had realized she had fallen in love with him probably the first moment she had seen him.
She replaced the cap and hugged herself again. The breeze from the open window chilled the air, but she gravitated to its coldness.
All she needed was to tell Liam she loved him, but he had forbidden her from saying those words.
After being married for about three months, she had decided to tell Liam how she felt, on his birthday. She had no idea what to give the man who already had everything he wanted, so she decided to stupidly give him her heart.
A tear slid down her face, and she hurriedly wiped it away. In her mind, she had continuously replayed the night in its entirety, trying to see what she had done incorrectly, where she had gone wrong.
She had worn a new dress that she knew would be pleasing for Liam. Sometimes he liked her in next to nothing, other times even a summer dress drove him wild, but that night she had chosen a pale-gold gown, simple in its design, but it had flattered her figure, and she felt as beautiful as Liam always told her she was.
She'd worn her hair tumbling down her back, loose curls that Liam loved to grip as he brought her under him. Chef had prepared a feast, but she insisted he teach her how to bake a cake. She had practiced hard, taking lessons from the very stern Michael who, at times, made her want to give up, but, of course, the famous chef wouldn't hear of it. The result had been a beautiful red velvet cake she had even frosted herself and finally earned praise from Michael for doing a good job for someone as clueless as she had been.
She remembered sitting opposite Liam at the sparkly elegantly dressed table. The low chandelier softened the hard planes of his staggeringly handsome face but for his eyes, which had turned into burning liquid gold as he looked at her, sending thrills down her spine for what he was going to do to her later.
After eating his birthday cake, which he praised highly for her efforts, they retired to the lounge in front of the fireplace. At once, she decided her gift to him was absolutely lame. She had felt stupid and childish and found herself talking in a high-pitched, overly happy tone to make up for the turmoil compressing her on the inside.
But, of course, Liam knew instinctively what was happening to her. He pulled her into his arms, kissed her, and told her whatever it was she had gotten him, he would cherish for the rest of his life no matter what it was.
Except he hadn't.
He had thrown her gift back in her face with a stern warning, one that still dropped her heart into a pool of gloom.
Finally working up the courage, she decided it wasn't so much the physical gift she was giving him, but the words that went with it. The words she felt in the deepest part of her soul. Words she never thought she would say to a man like Liam Stone.
She had slipped out of his arms, trembling, then with excitement because nothing felt more right in that moment, she hurried to the hiding place she had left his gift and soon the tiny, red velvet box laid in her hand.
She offered it to him and smiled when he yet again told her she didn't have to get him anything. She’d held her breath. Her mind going through a thousand thoughts at once. Her first and seemingly constant one being that she didn't belong in his world. She was out of her depth, an unequal. A more sophisticated woman would have never even thought of