Page 121 of Royal Deception
“I… Clary, I…” I step forward, wanting to explain, but Rory’s glare sharpens, and he moves in front of her, the protective fierceness radiating off him like a storm.
“You’re Anatoly Volkov’s daughter.” His voice is low, but it’s a growl, a challenge, like he's daring me to admit it.
“Yes,” I say quietly, my throat tightening. “But I didn’t know who Clary was when we first met. I had no idea. I swear, Rory, please, let me explain.” My voice falters, my regret weighing heavily on me.
Clary looks at me, her lips trembling, the anger mixed with pain, and I feel like I’m sinking deeper with every second that passes. Betrayal is written all over her features. I scramble to try to explain myself, but the words feel heavy and useless on my tongue.
“I didn’t want to hurt you, Clary. I never did. I just…” My voice shakes, but I keep going, fighting the lump in my throat. “When I realized who you were, who he was, it was too late. I had already… I had already fallen into this mess.” I motion to the tension between Rory and me, to the world I was born into, and yet, Clary was different. She was nothing like that.
“I just wanted to come and congratulate you,” I say, my voice soft but firm. “And then I’ll leave. I promise.”
Rory’s eyes are cold, unyielding. “You’ve got two minutes.”
I nod, my throat thick with emotion. This was all I ever wanted—just a chance to be on the outside, to be seen for something other than my last name, for something good. But that’s not how the world works, is it? Not in my world.
I swallow hard, fighting to keep the tears at bay. The moment feels fleeting, fragile. This chance I’ve been given, it’s slipping through my fingers. Clary’s eyes soften a little, but I know the weight of the situation lingers. This is only the beginning of making things right, and that’s not guaranteed.
I step forward and wrap my arms around her, hugging her tightly. “I’m so sorry, Clary. I’m truly happy for you,” I whisper. Her arms hesitantly come around me, but there’s an edge to her movements, a wariness I can’t ignore.
I pull away after a beat, offering her a tight smile, but the smile she gives back doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s not her fault. I’ve given her every reason to be cautious, to doubt me.
“I’ll leave now,” I say quietly, already turning to make my exit. But I don’t get far. My mind races as I glance across the room, looking forhim. Liam.
I spot him by the door, speaking to someone, his broad back to me. My heart beats harder. He hasn’t looked my way once, hasn’t acknowledged my presence, and the distance between us stings. But I can’t leave without speaking to him, without seeing him.
I walk toward him slowly, my pulse quickening with every step. I wait for him to acknowledge me, but he doesn’t.
“Liam,” I say softly, and the way his shoulders tense makes my stomach drop. His jaw clenches as he turns toward me. His eyes—cold, distant—pierce through me.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, his tone hard and unforgiving.
I feel my heart crack at the words, but I press on. “Please, I need to talk to you. Just outside, for a minute.”
He looks at me for a long moment, his gaze calculating. The silence between us stretches, and I can see the conflict brewing behind his eyes, the familiar tension that’s been there since the moment I stepped into his life.
“No,” he says flatly. “You don’t belong here, Annika.”
But I don’t give up. “Liam, please,” I beg, my voice dropping to almost a whisper. “You cared for me once. Please, for the sake of our past, I have to talk to you. I’m in danger. I—” I cut myself off, my breath catching. He looks at me sharply, and I can see something shift in his eyes, something more than just disbelief.
He stares at me for a moment longer, then curses under his breath. “I don’t want to cause a scene,” he mutters, his voice low, tight with the frustration he’s holding back. “Let’s get outside.”
I nod, relief flooding me as he turns and starts walking toward the exit, and I quickly follow in his wake. The evening air hits my skin, a cool contrast to the heat swirling inside me. I don’t know what I expected—maybe for him to shout at me or storm off in anger—but instead, he just feels… cold. More so than before.
We reach a quiet spot just outside the venue, the hum of the distant music barely audible. I pause for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts, but the desperation surges up again, and I pull the envelope from my bag.
His brow furrows when I hold it out to him. “What the hell is that?”
“Ten thousand dollars,” I say, my voice steady despite the pounding in my chest. “I’m hiring you, Liam.”
His eyes narrow in disbelief. “You’re not serious.”
“I am.” I swallow hard. “I need you. I need a bodyguard. I’m not safe, not anymore.”
He looks at the envelope, then back at me, as though trying to figure out whether I’m playing some kind of game. His hands remain at his sides, tense. "What makes you think I’ll do this? You know I’m not a fucking mercenary."
“I know,” I reply quickly, almost pleading. “I wouldn't ask if I had any other options. But I need your protection, Liam. I—”My voice catches, and I quickly regain my composure. "I can’t do this alone.”
I feel the weight of his gaze on me, and something shifts, just slightly. Maybe it’s my imagination, but I see something soften in his gaze, ever so slightly.
