Page 30 of Delectable Lies

SAOIRSE

The airin the car is thick with the looming tension that follows us from the gym.

From the corner of my eye, I steal a glance at Liam. His tattooed hands clutch the steering wheel in a death grip, showcasing his white knuckles as his fingernails dent his palms.

He keeps his sharp stare on the winding road ahead, refusing to meet my watchful eyes. His silence is so intense it’s palpable, forcing me to hold my breath hostage in my lungs.

Finally, when I can’t take another second of him blatantly ignoring me, my cheeks puff out, expelling an audible breath that cuts through the tension like a razor-sharp blade.

His eyes flick towards me as I shift in my seat, turning my body in the chair to face him. Then, honing in on him, my gaze tightens at the corners as I wait for him to acknowledge my presence.

His eyes flick between me and the road, then back again. One eyebrow edges towards my hairline, deepening the wrinkle at the bridge of my nose as I silently call him out for his ignorant behaviour with just a look. Sure, he has every right to be pissed at what went down with Rí at the gym, but his silence is different from his usual cocky facade, and I don’t know what to do with that.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he spits the words out through gritted teeth, frustration and disdain wrapped in this demand.

“No.” I shake my head and twist my lips into a pursed scowl. “If I want to look at you, I will.” Childish? Maybe so, but I won’t take the brunt of his bruised masculinity.

“Fine.” Irritation laces his tone, forcing me to swallow the bitter taste that one word leaves in my mouth.

Flicking on his turn signal, he indicates into the Devereux Estate, slowing to a stop while the enormous gates open for us to enter. His beady eyes turn towards me as we wait, trapping mine with his burning glare.

“What’s your problem?” I exhale a groan, rivalling a rusty hinge.

“Are you really that clueless?” His words sting more than they should. Maybe it’s the hurt behind his eyes, or maybe it’s his damaged ego talking. Either way, his arsehole attitude is pissing me off. “How else do you expect me to be after that little show you put on with King?”

“Fuck you, Liam. I did nothing wrong, and you know it.”

He holds my gaze for a moment before looking away without a word. Sloping his head to the right, an infinitesimal twitch curls on his upper lip, telling me I hit the nail on the head. His foul humour has more to do with Rí than me, not that he’ll admit it. But unfortunately, I’m the one he’s directing his rage towards.

Finally, the gates open wide enough for us to drive through, and Liam wastes no time pressing his foot down on the accelerator, excelling us forward. The short drive to the gate lodge is almost unbearable, but I focus my eyes out the passenger window, choosing to ignore the lump of a man in the seat next to me.

Once we pull up in front of the gate lodge, Liam cranks the handbrake and then shifts in his seat until he’s facing me with his unrelenting stare.

“What you did in the gym was reckless, Saoirse.”

My head bows. I hate the sound of my first name on his lips. He hasn’t called me that since he dubbed me his free bird, a name that solely belongs to him and only him.

When I look back up, his hollow eyes slice my skin. “It’s my job to protect you, but I can’t do that when you’re lying to me.”

“I’m not…I’m not lying to you.”

Liam’s shoulders drop with a sigh as he pins me to my seat with a raised brow. “How do you know Rohan?”

My mouth hangs open, but the words refuse to roll off my tongue.

With one last shake of his head, he stifles the engine’s growl and flings his door open. “That’s what I thought.”

My stomach pits, flipping at his swift departure. Pushing my door open, I exit the car and speed after him. “Liam, please. Wait.”

His feet come to an immediate halt, cementing him to the ground, and he freezes in place. Then with a heavy inhale, his firm, broad shoulders rise before concaving with a release of air from his lungs. Suddenly, he pivots on the balls of his feet, and then his stormy night eyes anchor on mine, impaling me with a dismissive look.

“Save it, Saoirse.”

Over his shoulder, the front door opens and Beibhinn steps into view. Using her forearm as a crutch, she leans against the doorframe, watching our exchange with furrowed eyes.

Liam’s hands fly into his messy hair, gripping onto the roots in frustration. His glassy eyes seem unfocused when he looks towards me again, void of all emotion. “Look, I’m not in the mood to fight with you. You want to crawl into the arms of the devil incarnate, be my fucking guest. But don’t expect me to pick you up when you crash land from the height he drops you from.”

With that, he storms into the house, pushing past Beibhinn without so much as a grunt.

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