Page 92 of Torrid


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I could think of little else but Liam. He was there, invading my head, reminding me that for once, I might get that happiness. If I wasn’t terrified to trust him. Sure, he’d been convincing last night, but what happened when he got tired of me? What if he didn’t love me as much as I loved him? He’d already given his heart to Etta. Was there enough left to share it with me? All these things had plagued me as I lay in bed last night.

Sitting down behind the desk, I turned on the computer and tried to decide what to do first. The door opened before I had a chance to decide. Wallace walking into the room only made things worse.

Heaving a sigh, I glared up at him.

“Good morning to you too,” he said with a smile and walked over to set a cup of coffee in front of me.

I recognized it.

“Lavender mocha with a touch of honey and skim milk,” he said, looking pleased with himself for remembering my order.

“I’m pregnant. I can’t drink that. Too much caffeine,” I told him.

He frowned. “Oh yeah. I didn’t think about that.” He moved the cup and sat down on the edge of my desk. “I’ll get decaf tomorrow. Or we can always take a coffee break.”

Not in this lifetime or in the next.

“I don’t take coffee breaks. We have stores opening. No distractions, right?” I reminded him of his own words yesterday.

He smirked. “Well, that doesn’t apply to you. If I’m the distraction at least.”

Vomit.

I picked up the resignation letter I’d typed and printed out yesterday after the meeting. I had held on to it, wanting to be sure this was what I had to do. Seemed it was, but I’d known it would be. My things were already packed. Even if I didn’t move out today, I would be ready as soon as I found somewhere to move to.

He took it from me, scowling at it. “No,” he said and handed it back.

I didn’t take it. “You can’t control me resigning, Wallace.”

“Why would you do this? You sent me a résumé. I felt like I’d won the fucking lottery when I saw your name on that paper. I handed you a job for people with four-year degrees and years of experience. You have a kick-ass apartment. But because you have to work with me, you’d give it up? Just because of me? You hate me that much?”

I opened my mouth to tell him it was more of a dislike. Hate was too strong of an emotion for how I felt about him. But the door swung open as Liam stalked inside. Tensing, I stared at him, trying to figure out why he was here, but the seething look he gave Wallace stopped me from asking.

“If you don’t get off her desk and move away from her, I will burn every goddamn building your family owns to the ground,” he snarled as he walked up to Wallace, towering over him.

Even when Wallace shot up off my desk, he was still a good three to four inches shorter. His shoulders weren’t as wide, and his biceps were nowhere near as thick and solid as Liam’s.

“SECURITY!” Wallace shouted, then sneered at Liam. “You don’t get to come into my office and threaten me.”

Liam’s dark chuckle sent a chill down my spine. I knew I should stand up and do something, but I couldn’t seem to figure out what. My eyes swung to the door. I expected security to come rushing inside, but no one appeared.

“Go ahead, little boy, why don’t you call for them again? I don’t think they heard you,” Liam taunted him before grabbing the collar of his oxford and shoving him up against the wall. “Go on now,” he urged.

“SECURITY!” Wallace yelled again. “You’ll go to jail for this. I’ll press charges. You shouldn’t have put your hands on me.”

Liam leaned closer to him. “You keep talking, little boy, and you won’t live to see if I go to jail.”

Finally, I shot up out of my seat. I was not letting Liam go to prison for Wallace Gabler. He wasn’t worth it, and I needed him. If he was behind bars, I’d not be able to have him.

“Liam, let him go. I’ll walk out with you,” I told him in a calm voice.

“You wanted time,” Liam said as he held Wallace up higher until his toes were struggling to stay on the ground.

“Get security, Liberty!” Wallace demanded.

Liam slammed his head back against the wall. “Be careful how you speak to her, you son of a bitch,” he warned him.

“Liam”—I touched his arm—“please. Stop.”

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