Diamond in the Rough Page 8

  I try to imbue the words into the bow, into the strings—I trust you, I trust you. But I’m afraid they aren’t completely true. I love him. I need him, but I don’t necessarily trust him. Maybe it’s part of growing up to realize that they aren’t the same thing—and I’m forced to look away.

  He finds me after the ceremony. “We should talk.”

  I give him a pointed look.

  “Still giving me the silent treatment?”

  When I was twelve years old, on the cusp of homelessness, of ruin, it was enough to know Liam would take care of me. I didn’t need details. Maybe I didn’t want details.

  Now it feels scarier not to know, to go into the world misled.

  Without a word I tuck my violin case beneath the risers near the house. It’s always strange to walk around carrying something worth a quarter of a million dollars. Some people say the violin is like a limb, but it’s more than that. It’s my heart. My soul.

  And it’s sitting in a velvet-lined case on the grass. No one would dare steal from Liam North, and technically the instrument belongs to him. How vulnerable it makes me to have something vital to my existence belong to another human being.

  A massive white tent covers endless platters of meat, pork belly sliders with homemade coleslaw and beef chuck-eye roast with a paprika herb rub. The bar serves blueberry mojitos with muddled mint leaves and fruit.

  A little glass pot contains scoops of warm tri-colored mashed potatoes. I add chives and shredded cheese before carrying it with me, circling the edges of the party. This far away I can see Liam with a mug in his hand, surrounded by people. He’s holding court, I realize. Some of the guests are clients of the company. Even wealthy men, successful men, look to him. He grants his audiences rarely with a reserved nod.

  He gives approval even more rarely.

  Josh slides into the seat beside me, a beer in his hand. “Nice job on the music,” he says. “Half the bridesmaids started crying, I have a hell of a time hitting on a girl with mascara running down their cheeks.”

  That makes me snort. “I wouldn’t think that would stop you.”

  “Well, I’m not saying I’m going to stop.”

  “If you want my advice, pick one this time.” There was an incident last year where he’d lured two women into his bed for a threesome. Except he had only mentioned it to one of the girls. The other one had not been pleased to realize she wasn’t the only one joining him.

  “In my defense, I was falling down drunk.”

  “How is that a defense?”

  He grins, unrepentant. “She still called me for a date the next day.”

  I can’t help but glance at Liam, where a woman touches his arm as she laughs, leaning close to give him a view down her dress. Will he invite her to his bedroom? There’s no question what her answer would be. Morosely I take a bite of the mashed potatoes, but even the buttery carbs can’t soothe the jagged edges of jealousy.

  “You have nothing to worry about here,” Josh says, his voice dry.

  “I’m not worried.”

  “He hasn’t slept with a woman in so long I’m pretty sure he’s forgotten how. Or maybe key parts of his anatomy have atrophied and fallen off. It’s not healthy.”

  I give him a sideways glance. “How would you know?”

  “Because no one who’s gotten laid would be that tense.”

  He does look tense. His knuckles are white where he grips the coffee mug. And who drinks coffee at a wedding, anyway? Everyone around him laughs and dances and flirts. These men put their lives on the line every time they take a job. They work hard, and they party even harder. This reception will continue long into the night. It won’t stop when Hassan and his pretty new wife leave for Hawaii.

  Liam looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

  “Is it the Red Team?” I ask. Those kinds of things are top secret, but you hear bits and pieces when you spend hours outside the office every day.

  “Maybe,” Josh says. “But I think more than that, it’s the wedding.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “So much happiness and love in the air,” Josh says in agreement.

  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the brothers had a rough childhood. Even this violinist knows that much. Only the details are hazy. “So he doesn’t believe in happily ever after?”

  “He believes in it for some people. Just not for himself.”

  The man in question looks this way, as if he can feel my regard. His green eyes burn as he stares at me from across the room. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “You want my advice?” Josh asks.

  “Not really.”

  “You got a hard-on for your legal guardian? Go for it. You want to work out some good old-fashioned daddy issues with Liam North, be my guest. I’m not the goddamn morality police, and Lord knows he could use the relief. But don’t expect anything more from him.”

  My cheeks flame. Is my lust for his brother that obvious? Even more than embarrassment I’m furious that he would presume to warn me away. “Maybe you’re not giving me enough credit. Someone might be interested in me for more than just sex.”

  He looks vaguely surprised. “Of course he wants you for more than sex. That’s not the issue.”

  Liam must see something on my face, because he starts heading this way. People stop him as he goes, catching his arm. He turns to give them a few words before continuing toward us. “I know I’m not experienced enough for him—”

  “He doesn’t think he has it in him to love someone.”

  My heart aches for what could have made him that way. “He’s wrong, of course.”

  “No, sweetheart. That’s the problem. He’s right.”

  Liam reaches us in a few long strides, his expression hard. The tan of his skin contrasts sharply with his white shirt. He’s removed his tux jacket, which only serves to emphasize the hard, lean line of his body. Silver cuff links glint from his wrists. He’s as well-formed as any piece of art, a feast of shape and texture for the eyes—but undoubtedly his eyes are the crown jewels. A deep green like malachite, with darker striations running through them.

  Josh stands. “How are you, dear brother?”

  The question is asked in a mocking tone, but Liam rarely rises to the bait. Instead he studies me, his green eyes questioning. “Are you all right?”

  I press my hands to my cheeks, feeling the warmth raging. You want to work out some good old-fashioned daddy issues with Liam North, be my guest. It’s hard to find my composure with those words still ringing. “I’m fine,” I say on a squeak.

  A low laugh from Josh as he wanders away.

  “Do I need to kick his ass?” Liam asks, looking grim. It’s not an idle threat. In the ways of male siblings, they have been known to throw a punch in an argument. And I have the sense that their past was more violent than most, which may make it worse.

  “Absolutely not,” I say, keeping my voice light. “He’s too hard-headed to learn this lesson anyway.”

  You got a hard-on for your legal guardian? Go for it.

  Somehow I don’t think the rest of society would view it in such a light. Things between Liam and me would always be taboo. Always forbidden. It makes me wonder if that makes it sweeter. Then I see the concern in Liam’s expression, the wry humor in his eyes, the depth of feeling, and I know I would have wanted him no matter what.

  LIAM

  There’s something strange about the way Samantha looks at me. Almost… nervous. Is she afraid of me? Jesus. “Well,” I say. “You’re probably right. But I’d feel better.”

  She gives me a droll look that says I’m all talk—which is mostly true. I don’t go around beating up people because they say shit to me.

  Then again, if they say shit to Samantha, that’s a different story.

  And her forced casual expression can’t quite hide the way her cheeks are pink, her eyes wide as she looks up at me. Definitely nervous about something.

  I
find Josh outside the tent with one of the bridesmaids, about two seconds away from bringing her to orgasm with the crowd of revelers inside. I clear my throat, which makes him growl his annoyance. “Go away.”

  He rocks her against his thigh until she comes, biting his shoulder through his tux jacket. Then he whispers something in her ear that makes her giggle, and sends her away on unsteady legs with a pat to her ass.

  “God, you’re such a bastard,” he says without heat.

  “You have a bedroom.”

  “And taking her there would mean giving up on the buffet early.”

  Naturally he doesn’t mean the food buffet. “What did you tell Samantha? She was acting strange after you talked to her.”

  He rolls his eyes, which is something most men at North Security wouldn’t do. That’s the thing about working with your brothers. “I told her about the baby bird.”

  Fury stiffens every muscle inside me. “You did not.”

  “Oh yes, big brother. Remember that little bird? It had such soft feathers. You wouldn’t think feathers could be fluffy, but they were. It had fallen out of its nest.”

  I have to fight to keep from throwing up on the grass. Wouldn’t that be the perfect way to end the day? It’s been pure torture watching the happy couple, listening to Samantha play songs about forever and always. And now this.

  “Don’t,” I say, my voice harsh enough that even my brother should know better.

  He grins the same way he did as a kid—full of bravado. He would rather get the shit kicked out of him than admit defeat, and in our house, our father was happy to oblige. “You kept her in your closet, feeding her little bits of bread and peanut butter.”

  “You did not tell this to Samantha.”

  “So what if I did?” he says, laughing. “She was so sad when I told her about the peanut butter.”

  I grasp him by the lapels and slam him against a tree beside the tent. “You had no fucking right to do that. You fucking bastard.”

  He leans his head back, still laughing. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I didn’t tell her about the baby bird, or about how Father found out. Or how he locked you in the closet with the bird for days, until you’d practically died of starvation and the bird had died in your hands.”

  I shove Josh against the tree and push away, breathing hard. “You’re a sick fuck.”

  “Yeah,” he says a little sadly. “I come by it honest.”

  He’s still fucked up over what our father did, and I wish I could help him, I really do. All I can do is give him operational command of North Security. All I can give Elijah is the chance to shoot at assholes when they shoot first. That’s what our family has come to.

  “There’s no point talking about the past,” I say. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Josh says, following the path the bridesmaid took toward the entrance to the tent. “Sometimes I think you still haven’t let go of that baby bird.”

  SAMANTHA

  I’m the first one who leaves, slipping into the house with my violin case like a shadow. The faint clatter of dishes comes from the kitchen—the caterers hard at work feeding men who are never really full. I put my violin away with the same care a mother must show her infant child. It might seem extreme to some people, but the violin can’t protect itself. It can’t wipe away the rosin or polish its wood, so I do it.

  In the cool, conditioned air I realize that I’ve been sweating. The linen of my pale pink dress clings to my skin. Upstairs I take a shower, washing away the scent of the outside, turning my face to the hot spray until I run out of breath.

  I slip into my pajamas. Little penguins march across the pale blue flannel. It makes me feel safe and warm—I need that tonight. There are only a couple more months of sleeping in this house. There’s no reason for me to come live here after.

  The lights are off when I step into the bedroom. A lamp clicks, and light floods the plush beige carpet. I gasp at the sight of Liam standing near the entrance. His lids are low in the dim lighting, his green eyes burning emerald tonight. “Going to bed?” he says, the question lazy. Of course I’m going to bed. The question is what he’s doing here.

  “I’m tired,” I say, a little cautious. A little afraid. “Are you going to bed, too?”

  He shakes his head. “I thought I’d tuck you in.”

  Tuck me in? He didn’t do that when I was twelve years old. Why would he do it now? The idea wakes up every nerve ending in my body, as if I’m imagining his touch over the blanket, under the blanket, all around me. Nothing about my thoughts is innocent.

  He waits while I brush my teeth and change in the closet. I find him sitting on the edge of the bed when I come out, and I climb in, uncertain what comes next.

  “Your father made some people angry,” he says, his voice low. It’s as if the admission is torn from him, and it makes me wonder what else he’s been keeping held so tight. He pulls the sheets up high on my body, so it almost touches my chin.

  “What does that mean?”

  Liam brushes the hair away from my forehead, the touch of his blunt fingertips shocking even in their innocence. “It means he had enemies when he died. Dangerous people who would have hurt you out of a misguided sense of revenge. You couldn’t go into the system.”

  “Is that why you got custody of me?”

  “I could protect you.”

  My throat feels tight. “So you didn’t know my father? Not really?”

  “I knew of him. That was enough for me. The rest doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters,” I say, frustrated that he can still pretend this isn’t everything. “It’s the whole reason you took me in. The reason you turned your life upside down.”

  “You’re safe now, child.”

  The word child makes me rankle with the desire to refute him. But he’s sitting on the edge of my twin-size bed, wearing a tux while I’m in jammies. I can’t refute anything. He bends to kiss my forehead, and I push him away with a glare. I don’t want a chaste kiss on my forehead. I won’t accept it.

  He frowns. “What exactly did Josh say to you tonight?”

  “He said you believe you can’t love anyone. Is that true?”

  “I suppose it is,” Liam says, sounding unnaturally calm about it. As if it doesn’t bother him to miss out on such a thing. “I care for you, though. Is that what you’re worried about?”

  I sit up in bed. “Tell me something. If you weren’t friends with my father, how did you even know that his daughter was orphaned? Was there some kind of mass e-mail to people in the intelligence sector? A post in a secret Facebook group? Lost little girl needs a strong and seriously grumpy man to become her guardian.”

  I’m panting by the time I’m done talking. It’s not only myself that I’m fighting for right now—it’s him. It’s us. And I’m willing to tear down every construct of our guardian-ward relationship to do it.

  Unfortunately he doesn’t seem to understand the severity of the situation. His lip twitches as if he’s holding back a laugh. “Seriously grumpy man?”

  “You’re like a bear who’s been woken up from hibernation.”

  “Maybe,” he allows. “But I have a reason to be concerned about you.”

  “That’s why you freaked out about us going to the club?”

  “Well, that and the fact that you’re not eighteen yet. Where did you get fake IDs?”

  “Look… I have to tell you something about the club.” Nighttime is made for confidences, and I have the irrepressible urge to confide in him. Maybe it will become my downfall, trusting Liam. I have to try. “That man—”

  “Criminal,” Liam corrects gently.

  “It wasn’t random that I met him there. I went there to find him, so that I could—”

  “I know exactly why you went there.”

  My mouth snaps shut. “Excuse me?”

  “You obviously were looking to lose your virginity.”

  Shock steals my breath, so I can only stare
at him in bewildered horror. After a moment I’m suffused with outrage. “And what makes you so sure about that?”

  “I understand,” he says, with what appears to be sympathy. “You’re clearly experiencing a spike in hormones. Maybe even still suffering from some late stage puberty.”

  I stare at him in undiluted horror. I’m over here thinking about love and sex, about protecting my friend, about a new beginning. And he thinks I’m having hormones.

  “Samantha,” he says gently.

  “No, you’re probably right. Hormones. Puberty.”

  “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  I’m embarrassed and horrified and most of all, so sad I could cry. Tears prick my eyes. Anger rushes through my veins in a heavy beat. Maybe I actually am experiencing hormones, but that doesn’t mean what I feel for him isn’t real. “Good night.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The violin was considered the leader of the orchestra before conductors became common.

  SAMANTHA

  In some ways Liam North was an indulgent guardian. He would spend two hundred thousand dollars on a violin. He persuaded an infamous violin teacher to move to Kingston so that I could visit him once a week. There were an endless supply of books and music. I always had the latest model phone, some before they were released to the public due to his connections at the major tech companies.

  In other ways Liam was the strictest guardian.

  My transient existence as a diplomat’s daughter had given me its own education. I knew how to barter for fish in an Indonesian market and how to counter the early signs of frostbite, but I couldn’t name most of the states. School, he decided. Not private tutors. Not correspondence courses. I should attend an ordinary school with ordinary classes. I’m not sure how ordinary it is to be driven every day by an armed guard in a limo, but St. Agnes did give me a normal experience.

  As normal as you can be when the tuition costs thirty thousand a year.

  “You ready?” Laney murmurs.

  I’m fiddling with the Bunsen burner, nudging the beaker with my tongs. According to Mr. Washington there should be precipitate once the molecules get hot enough to release the sodium. “I’m ready to be done with this experiment.”