Page 29 of Torched

“I don’t know.”

“Baby, you haven’t left this room in two days. At some point, you have to get out.”

I wiggle myself out of his arms, not appreciating the judgment in his tone before I get up.

“I’m just going through some shit, okay?” Like the one where you need to make sure you’re ready to get stabbed in the back twenty-four-seven. Grabbing one of his shirts from the floor, I cover myself up.

“I know. So am I. I’m not happy with having her here, but avoiding her will only show her that she has the upper hand.”

“It’s not that!” It’s totally that.

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know!” My outburst results in a concerned stare hitting me like bricks. I don’t want him to worry about me. The devil herself in our personal space is more than enough worry for both of us. But I haven’t found the bravado to stroll the yacht with a level of confidence that I feel I need to have before I’m confronted with Cristina. She knows how to piss me off, and push just the right buttons to dip into my insecurities. I need to find a way to put up a brick wall first before I can be in the same room with her again.

Luckily, I’m saved by the bell when my phone rings, and I glance at the screen.

Callie.

“It’s Callie. I have to take this.”

“Gen.”

“I’m fine,” I tell him, walking backward to the bathroom. “I swear.”

Locking the door behind me, I suck in another lungful of air before I answer the phone.

“What’s up, Callie girl?”

“Genny! How are you?” The tension leaves my back when I hear Callie’s chipper voice, pleased she sounds happy.

“I’m good.”

“Are you?”

“I am, really.” I smile at myself in the mirror, noticing the fatigue in my eyes. You’re a shit liar, Imogen Payne. I’m not fine. I’m not fine on this yacht. I’m not fine with Cristina being here. And I’m not fine with Callie being in a different country. “Do you have any news? How is it in Spain?”

“Actually,” she begins, dragging out the word. “We’re in Boston.”

“You’rewhat?”

“Turns out Cristina was right. There was evidence in a safe deposit box that suggests he has connections to Loranne Almos. I found an old postcard from her. Reign is running a background check on her as we speak. I didn’t want to call him, because we never know if someone is listening, so we flew to Boston yesterday. Which feels like today for me. Time zones and all that shit. I’m calling from a secure line right now.”

“Does Liam know?”

“He does.”

“That son of a bitch.”

I stare at my reflection as my eyes narrow. We’re supposed to be in this together, yet he fails to give me an update about what’s happening. Defeat showers me as I come to the only conclusion that comes to mind: he doesn’t trust me. The realization has tears filling the corners of my lashes.

“In his defense, he said you had a lot on your mind, and he didn’t want you to worry any more than you have to.”

I know it sounds sweet, how he wants to protect me, but all it does is make me feel like I’m not included in this and that fucks with my head. Why wouldn’t he want to share this kind of information with me?

“It’s no excuse. He should’ve told me.”

“He should’ve.” Callie pauses, but I can sense more coming my way. “But, Gen, what’s going on?” I know she’s not asking without reason, probably worried about me after Liam told her I wasn’t feeling well.

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