Page 7 of Love Her

4

LIA

I’d never gotten to be with anyone I cared about in the dark before.

When Rhaim flipped the light back on relief flooded through my body—but I was the only one who knew why.

“You go back downstairs, first,” he said, after I pulled away, because I needed to prove to myself this had been real—and to breathe.

I didn’t want to leave him ever again. The past two months had been sheer torture, and only the knowledge that he wanted—no,required—me to be strong had kept me sane.

After he’d left my apartment I’d put books in front of the cameras he’d installed inside it—since apparently I was going to have to be Business Lia all the goddamned time—but it was good, because otherwise he would’ve realized that something in me had died when he pushed me away, with his choice that wasn’t a choice at all.

And then the entire time we’d worked together, anytime I’d wanted to seek him out for solace, for some whit of connection still threaded between us—all I’d gotten was a cold wall. He debriefed me before important meetings, he shared allhis knowledge, he checked my work, critiqued it, occasionally even told me what to wear depending on our clientele—he was as omnipresent around me as the air, but emotionally, just as ephemeral.

Until right now, tonight, here.

My pussy was going to be sore tomorrow from how hard he’d fucked it and it didn’t matter, I’d let him do it again in an instant, I’d let him strip this stupid silly dress and long-sleeved jacket—to hide my scars from all the time I’d spentwithout him—off and let him fuck me till I was loud enough for people on other floors to hear.

He took my chin in his hand and cleaned up some lipstick that’d gotten smeared with a thumb, and pushed a lock of loose hair back behind my ear, and I relaxed beneath his attention.

I liked him inspecting me.

Making sure I was perfect.

Which of course I was—I was his.

“Don’t look guilty when you go downstairs. You’ve had a good night. You’re high on money—it happens to the best of us,” he said, before stepping back to look at the rest of me. “You’re young, you’re beautiful—make some apologies, and you’ll be fine,” he went on, before kneeling unexpectedly to adjust the strap of my heel, and I’d never felt like Cinderella so much in my entire short life.

“And then what?” I breathed.

“Then, you trust me,” he said, rising. “We can figure everything else out later. We just have to make it through tonight without letting anything on.”

“We figure it out together?” I said, as the familiar knot in my chest tightened. I needed to know it wouldn’t just be him, making decisions for me again.

“Together,” he swore, with a solemn nod, before taking my face in his hands and kissing my forehead.

I had no idea how I could look at him from across the room tonight and pretend I didn’t feel his hands on me—but I knew all the reasons why I had to. My father would notice if I slipped, and Freddie Jr had surely made an entrance by now—and God, he would love to catch me faltering.

Which meant that every smile, every word, from here on out, had to be utterly calculated, until we’d had time to come up with a plan.

My father wanted me to be happy, didn’t he?

And why would the same people who were already so eager to invest money in Corvo care?

Okay, that last one, I could see—for what little government financial oversight there was anymore, we wouldn’t want to attract any additional attention to the IPO, or create any opposition to me joining the board.

But Rhaim and I could go back to pretending until it was over—until we’d made my father even more unfathomably wealthy, and all our shareholders happy—and then we would be free.

Together.

I schooled myself quickly, wearing the same face I’d worn on my first day at innumerable different boarding schools, showing no weakness, like someone about to shiv the biggest guy in the prison yard.

“There’s my girl,” Rhaim murmured, watching me with something like pride. Then, almost imperceptibly, he shifted. He put his own mask back on, the one that made him look cold and unfeeling, the one that slid a wall between us, no matter that some of his cum was leaking between my thighs. “Just a few more hours,” he said, his voice as distant as it was firm. “Get back out there.”

I nodded and left the bathroom, the click of my heels against the wooden floor sounding like the seconds ticking away to my future.

I managedto make it to a different wing of my father’s apartment unseen, before dropping down to the floor where my father was hosting his party. By then the glass of wine I’d pounded reallywashitting me, but it was okay, it was late, and I wasn’t the only one. Success was like a drug, and everyone here was taking bumps.

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