Page 103 of Because I Liked A Boy
He shut the laptop. “We’ll do this clean, Bella. In. To Penny. Out.” A beat. “On my arm. Head high.”
I took that into the bathroom with me like a prayer.
I did my own makeup, foundation heavy enough to mute the bruise, liner sharp enough to feel like a weapon. I pinned my hair back in a way that showed my throat because fear likes to live there and I was done giving it space. The dress slid over my hips like a sheathe; the slit found my thigh and made a promise. The gold bracelet Liam had chosen clicked softly against my wrist. When I tried the zipper, it stuck halfway and my breath snagged with it.
A knock. “Can I—?”
I opened the door. He took in the dress in one flick of his gaze, then looked away like it was dangerous to stare. His hands were steady when he found the zipper and dragged it up, careful not to touch more skin than he had to. I felt every degree of restraint like heat.
“Arm,” he said quietly when I turned. I gave it. He fastened the bracelet, the brush of his knuckles a spark that died as soon as it was born.
“You look…” He swallowed the rest and defaulted to practical. “You’ll pass.”
“Pass?” My mouth tilted. “I plan to burn.”
He huffed half a laugh that never quite made it. “Then let’s go start a fire.”
The car ride was mostly street lights and silence. He drove like he worked—focused, economical, no sudden moves unless he meant them. I kept my palms flat on my knees so he wouldn’t see them shake.
Mayfair rose around us like polished teeth. Outside the hotel, a row of black cars fed into a spill of sequins and tuxedos. Security stood in that expensive way: hands clasped, eyes doing the work. Beyond them, I caught the flare of cameras against a press wall—ASHBOURNE–CARTWRIGHT in gold serif, like a threat dressed as a blessing.
Liam parked underground and brought me up through a service lift that smelled like steel and lemon. At the mezzanine, he reached for my hand. Not soft strategic.
“Stay close,” he murmured. “We belong here.”
His badge got us through the first checkpoint. His name on the list got us through the second. At the third, the man with the earpiece looked too long at my face and Liam’s grip tightened.
“Carter,” the man said. His gaze skimmed me again, professional, curious. “Plus one.”
Liam’s voice didn’t blink. “Colleague.” He nodded me forward, his body between mine and the man’s doubt. “We’re late.”
We weren’t, but we moved like we were, and the rope parted.
The ballroom hit like a flood. Light everywhere, chandeliers dripping crystal, candles set in glass like captured stars. A string quartet made money sound like music. Waiters moved in clean geometry, silver flashing, champagnerising and falling like tide. The air smelled of roses and expensive intent.
I felt the room notice me. Not the way I used to, girl in the wrong dress, the wrong life but the way a spark notices a pool of vodka. Potential. Trouble. It spread fast, quiet as gossip.
Liam angled us along the edge, past a table smothered in white flowers, past men whose laughs were too loud. He moved like he knew every exit and, maybe he did. His body was a wall where I needed it to be, a shield without making it obvious. My father would have approved of the choreography and hated that it wasn’t his.
And then I saw her.
Across the room, on a dais trimmed with roses, Penelope stood beside a boy in a midnight tux too handsome in that waxy, good-breeding way, a polite smile nailed to his mouth. Theo Cartwright. Eighteen. Future. Deal.
Penny’s dress was a pale thing that did nothing for the blood in her face. She looked like she was trying to be invisible while trapped under a spotlight, fingers white around the clutch she didn’t want. Her hair had been scraped into submission; her eyes were the only rebellion left.
They found me.
The world tightened to a pinpoint. For a second she didn’t believe what she was looking at—then her lips parted on a breath I felt across the room. Terror. Relief. Hope so sharp it hurt.
“Isabella,” Liam said low, a warning in the shape of my name.
“I see her,” I answered, and the calm that slid through me was colder than fear. I lifted my chin and stepped forward.
Penny’s mouth formed one word I’d promised her and myself until it turned to bone.
Promise?
I nodded once. Promise.
