Page 32 of Lethal Lover

Liam follows on my heels, and the intoxicating scent of his cologne threatens to hypnotize me. How many times has he come backstage after a show? How many shows has he brought me flowers and met me here for a hot make-out session? How can I just snap my fingers and break my own heart by cutting him off? I don’t want to feel this, but I’m just not safe with him.

I lead him into my dressing room and dump the armload of goodies on the table near the door, then move deeper into the room. He shuts the door behind us, but I know Warren is probably there waiting for me to scream out for help or something. That’s the thing. I’m not scared of Liam. He has never once made me feel frightened of him, the few bouts of temper flares notwithstanding. What I’m fearful of is twofold—who will I become if I stay with him, and what will his family do if I don’t?

“Baby, please. You haven’t answered my calls or responded to my messages. Tell me we’re okay.” He reaches for me again, and I hold a firm hand up, stopping his forward movements. He gets the point right away when I nod at the chair across the room.

Turning, I pull my stool away from my vanity and position it so that I can sit in the center of the room. He maneuvers the chair so that he is facing me, but still a few feet away, then he sits down too.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking and a lot of research.” I press my lips together, already not liking the sullen expression he gives me. I may have seen an act this entire time, but I choose to believe some of it was genuine.

“Research?” Liam folds his hands in his lap and narrows his eyes at me.

“Yes. You didn’t think I would just take Warren’s word for it, did you?” I sigh and look away. I can’t look him in the eye the moment his heart breaks. If he is human at all, I know this will hurt him. “I know you’re Dominic Salvatore, and I know who your father is and what you’ve been accused of. I know your middle name is William, which is probably how you got the nickname Liam, or alias, or whatever it is.”

“Elena,” he says, leaning forward. The chair squeaks as he strains to touch my knee, but I turn my stool and move out of reach of his grasp.

“Please, let me finish.” I finally look him in the eye. “I think you understand that I can’t be with someone who lies to me, and keeping your real identity from me was lying.”

“I thought you’d be afraid and run away. I never meant to hurt you. I wanted you to see the real me, not what people say about me.” My heart believes every fucking word from his mouth, but my mind is screaming at me that he’s lying. He’s been lying for months. Why would he stop now?

But it makes sense that he’d feel that way. I imagine he’ll never get a real woman with genuine motives with a name like that. He’ll get an arranged marriage or have twelve different wives and ten whores on the side. It’s the way things work in his world, or at least that’s the way television portrays it.

“I just need to know one thing. Are you the one who’s been stalking me? Because if you are, then I need you to stop. If not, then I need to call the police, and I know you’ve been lying to me, but I need you to be honest now. I?—”

“Stalking you?” he asks, interrupting. “Baby, you’re the love of my life. Why would I stalk you? You’re my everything.” Hereaches for me again, and this time, I let him touch my knee. It’s a bad move. It makes me want him, to feel him holding me and make all the lies and horrible emotions go away, but I can’t let my heart feel this. I have to be strong.

“Yes, stalking me. I keep getting these letters and cards that are really creepy.”

Liam looks confused as I take one of the letters and hand it to him. He opens it and pores over it intently, his face growing darker with anger the more he reads. “Who the fuck sent this?” The one he’s reading in particular is even more threatening than the others. This one is a real threat to my person for not being who the stalker thinks I should be.

“I don’t know who sent it.” I tremble as he turns it over in his hand and examines it. I see firsthand how much he really cares, or at least how bad of a reaction he has to someone moving in on what he thinks is his property.

“This is fucked up, baby. I didn’t send this shit. This isn’t me. If I wanted to hurt you, you’d know it. And I don’t ever want to hurt you.” I want to believe him, but I just don’t know.

“In fairness, you’ve been lying. And your father is a Mob boss of a criminal organization.” My hands are sweaty, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.

“Look, I’ll be honest. I told off the director a few times. He’s holding you back. And yes, I paid a few critics to give you good reviews. But I swear I did not do this.” Liam holds up the note and glares at me. “I would never do this.” He stands, and I cower without trying as he leans over me to drop the letter on the vanity behind me. Then he crouches in front of me and takes my hand.

“I hid who I am from you because I was afraid this very thing would happen. You’re judging me by my family and my name, not because of who I am.” He kisses my hand and squeezes my fingers. “Was I ever threatening to you? Did you ever feel afraid of me?”

I can hear Warren now. He’s probably in the hallway listening to this, ready to burst in here and tell me it’s all an act, but Liam is right. He’s never threatened me or hurt me. And only when I snooped in his stuff did he even get upset with me, and he had a right to be.

“Not once,” I tell him, letting my head drop.

“This is insane. Don’t push me away because of who I’m related to. I love you, Elena. I want to make your dreams come true. Come home with me tonight.” He kisses my hand again, but I shake my head.

"I can’t. I need time to think, okay? I just need a bit of space.” I’m teetering on the edge now, so close to caving it isn’t funny, but I have to hold my ground or Warren will start something again.

“Alright. I’ll give you space. But promise me you will call me, or that you will at least answer when I call. Now that I know you have this stalker coming after you, I don’t feel safe. I need to know you’re alright.” Liam’s concern seems genuine, so I nod.

“Alright,” I agree, and he stands and heads for the door.

“I love you.”

The instant he’s gone, the door bursts open with Warren, Trixie, and Schrader flooding in to bombard me with questions, but all I can do is cry. How do I know what’s the right thing to do? And how do I know who to believe? I hate this.

21

LIAM

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