Page 121 of Royal Bargain
I stare at the screen, my heart hammering, the words looping through my mind like a broken record.
Things are probably already in motion.
What the hell does that mean?
I tuck the phone away with a trembling hand.
Things are probably already in motion.
The words echo in my head like a whisper I can’t silence.
I scoop Lily into my arms, pressing a kiss to her cheek just to feel her warmth. Just to anchor myself to something real. She blinks up at me with those soft blue eyes—Liam’s eyes—and coos, like the world hasn’t cracked open beneath us.
God, I wish I could borrow her innocence for just one second.
I move into the living room, still holding her close. Liam’s in the kitchen already, dressed for the day and pouring coffee like it’s any other morning. He glances over his shoulder and offers a small, tired smile.
“Everything okay?”
I nod, maybe too fast. “Yeah. Just talked to Miranda. She said she’d try to talk Ingrid down.”
His brow furrows. “That’s good, right?”
“Yeah,” I say again, but quieter this time.
I settle onto the couch with Lily in my lap, her tiny hand gripping the collar of my shirt. I run my fingers gently through her hair, watching the muted news flicker across the TV. Local anchors, weather updates, stock tickers—I don’t process any of it.
I should tell him.
About the way Miranda’s voice dropped, about how something in her tone twisted just enough to feel like a threat in disguise. About how it didn’t sound like help—it sounded like a warning.
But I don’t.
What would I even say? That I have a feeling? That her tone was off?
Liam returns, handing me a cup of tea. I take it with a murmured thanks and sip without thinking, the heat grounding me just enough to stay still.
He settles beside me, his arm brushing mine. A simple touch, unspoken reassurance.
No. Not yet.
It’s probably nothing. It’s just my overactive imagination. Just my anxiety talking again.
Right?
36
LIAM
The door clicks shut behind us, and Ana slumps against it like her bones gave up.
“We made it,”I murmur, locking the deadbolt. “Safe and sound.”
She lets out a breath that’s half-laugh, half-collapse. “Yeah. We made it.”
Her heels hit the floor with a soft thud. She pads barefoot across the living room, collapsing onto the couch like she’s been holding her breath for hours. Her dress still fits like a dream, makeup untouched, but she looks wrecked in a way that doesn’t show up on camera.
I kick off my boots and drop beside her. “You were amazing tonight,” I say, nudging her knee with mine. “That last song? Nearly knocked me flat.”
