Page 63 of Believe it or Knot

“She could,” he says happily. “But she doesn’t want it.” His brows pinch together. “What if this is too much for her?”

“It’s not.” We all whip our head toward the stairs, where Sorrel is standing, hands clenched in front of her, that fake smile I’m growing to hate on her face. “I swear it’s not.” She takes a step forward. “I know you said I didn’t have to apologize, but I am sorry. Like I said, I just wasn’t prepared. I’ll be able to handle it better next time.”

I shrug and swing the door of the fridge closed. “You don’t have to. We can happily keep you out of the public eye. No need to force you into the limelight.”

Her smile slips the tiniest bit, but then it’s back. “Oh, so you…” she hesitates and licks her lips, then continues. “I thought you had activities planned… outings and things? Do you not want to do them anymore?”

Liam scrambles off of Rafe’s lap and is standing in front of her before I even have the chance to move. “No, no, of course, we still want to do them with you. I want to take you on dates and show you the city from the Cordova pack perspective. But if it makes you uncomfortable, we can stay in and watch movies and eat too much junk food. I can play you my newest songs and we can collaborate!”

“Collaborate?” Her brow furrows as Liam drapes his arm over her shoulders. “I’m not a songwriter, Liam.”

“Sure you aren’t,” he winks at her, and her face flushes.

I wonder why she’s so resistant to tell us about her music. We all know she does it. Why won’t she just admit it?

“Why don’t we stay in tonight?” Rafe suggests from where he’s stretched out on the couch, legs crossed at the ankles. “We can have a quiet dinner here, snuggle on the couch, watch movies like Liam suggested. And if you feel up to it, we can go to dinner tomorrow.”

Sorrel blows out a relieved breath and nods, her smile turning more genuine than what she had been wearing. “That sounds good. Thank you, Rafe.”

“Anything for you, conejita,” he says easily, spreading his arms wide. “Now come here so I can cuddle you. These two had you for the entire ride back. It’s my turn now.”

Sorrel laughs as she climbs on top of him, stretching out and nestling her head against his neck as his arms close around her.

I think it might be just about the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.

We spend the next few days with Sorrel mostly in the penthouse. We cuddle up on the couch and watch movies. She wasn’t up for a full fledged fancy dinner her second night in the city, so we pushed back the reservation a few days.

Occasionally Sorrel is comfortable with us taking her out, small jaunts into the city to a coffee shop or, strangely enough, to the grocery store to pick up some items for a dinner Sorrel wanted to make for us. We try to take her shopping but she seems so disinterested in new clothes or luxury items that we eventually stop taking her to boutiques. Doesn’t stop us from buying her things.

Probably her favorite thing we did was take her to an upscale old timey ice cream parlor that sells a sundae that costs a thousand dollars. Not that we told her the price when we ordered it, instead we just watched her dig into the edible gold leaf covered dessert and listened to her moans of pleasure. Well, we did until a gaggle of women approached the table and asked Liam for an autograph.

At each location, each outing people recognize us and each time, Sorrel ducks her head, or buries her face in one of our chests to avoid being photographed.

I had hoped she’d get used to the attention, but it doesn’t seem like she is.

She hasn’t even fully adjusted to us having staff that takes care of the penthouse for us, messes swept away, food appearing out of thin air. Every time it happens she seems surprised. Telling her she’ll get used to being taken care of doesn’t really seem to help.

On more than one occasion I’ve found her tucked up in her bedroom, scribbling furiously in a battered spiral notebook. Only for her to shove it out of sight as soon as she knows she’s being watched. I’m dying to know what she's been writing, but whether it's a journal of a song book, I would never read it without her permission.

Liam and Sorrel spend an entire day in the recording studio. Rafe and I check on them frequently, only to find Liam strumming a guitar, singing and then asking Sorrel what she thinks. It’s never her playing or singing or writing.

That doesn’t mean it’s not happening, but we certainly don’t see it.

It’s to the point where I wonder if maybe Liam got it wrong and she’s not the person he was looking for up in Lake Kilrose. Surely if she was, she wouldn’t be able to resist the state-of-the-art studio and collaborating with Liam Cordova.

But then, after Rafe has given them a warning that we have to leave for dinner in an hour, Liam comes out humming happily, eyes glowing. “It’s her,” he states, doing a little dance that is adorable. “It’s her. She sang for me, Gray, harmonized with me and it was fucking perfection. Just like I knew it would be. This next album is going to be the best-selling yet with her on it. I can already tell.”

I kiss the smile on his mouth. “Good. I’m happy for you, sweetheart…”

“But.”

“But are you sure she wants to be on your album?” I pull back to look down at him as I say the words. “She doesn’t like the spotlight, baby.”

His brow furrows. “I know that. But it’ll get easier for her, won’t it? Once she’s with us, really with us, it’ll be easier for her to be around all those people. To know that we’ll keep her safe.”

I cup his face and say gently, “I don’t think it’s a matter of her feeling unsafe, Liam. I think she doesn’t like the attention.”

“Then I’ll quit.” He says it so simply and so quickly that I know he’s been thinking about this for a while. How long, though? Since seeing her reaction to the crowd around our building? Since he first met Sorrel? Longer?

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