"Are you going to ask me, Hellspawn?"
"Nope."
I didn't even ask him to clarify. There were only a handful of topics he could be referring to. Nearly all of them involved the Vandals. No, I'd pass on asking for anything right now. Liam was the one I knew the least. He seemed as at home inside the clubhouse and amongst the bloody cleanup at the garage, as he did behind the wheel of his Aston Martin.
Maybe they boosted cars and worked them over and sold them to make money. We'd even watched one of those movies about boosting cars and the guys made the strangest comments all the way through it. If that was the case, I would be better off not knowing.
"Huh," Liam grunted, but left the topic alone. Music filtered through the speakers, more instrumental than lyrical. It was Mozart. Liam listened to Mozart. The baffling new fact joined the similarly mysterious puzzle pieces, all blank and oddly shaped that didn't seem to follow any discernible pattern and yet snapped into place like they belonged there.
Twenty minutes into our drive, he pulled up to a high-end boutique. I recognized the French name. Was he for real right now? Sweat chilled along my spine. The rumbling purr of the car didn't cease as he circled the vehicle to open my door. "Come on Hellspawn, we have an appointment."
Ignoring the hand he held out to me, I slid out of the car and managed to avoid brushing against him. I was not dressed for Le Belle Âme.
Liam's amused chuckle chased me across the damp sidewalk to the doors, which were already being opened by a security guard.
"Mr. O'Connell," the man said as he greeted us. "Lydia and her team are waiting upstairs."
"Thanks, Gerald. Lock up and take a break. We'll be a while." Liam offered the man his hand and they shook. It was almost warm, declaring a familiarity between the two even if they couldn’t look further apart. The security guard seemed generically middle-aged with a receding hairline and bit of a paunch. I swore there were carbon copies of this man in all walks of life all over the country, most of them serving as managers or security guards.
"Thank you, sir. I'll have my phone, so just have Lydia buzz me when you're ready to leave. I'll keep an eye on your car." With a nod, he left us alone. Neither my state of dishabille nor Liam's plain jeans and Henley even slowed him down. What the hell had he done to earn not only deference, but respect?
Liam cupped my elbow and tugged me out of my stupor as he headed across the parquet floor of Le Belle Âme to a set of escalators. Everything about the store promised opulence, discretion, and luxury. A boutique amongst boutiques, only the finest items and the highest quality would be featured on their showroom floors. Designers died a little when Le Belle Âme passed on their collections and fainted dead away when they accepted even one piece.
Or so I'd been reminded over and over.
The cold pit in my stomach seemed to grow heavier as Liam guided me onto the escalator itself. The machinery had to give off a hum of some kind, but I swore it was absolutely silent as the stairs carried us up. Surreal didn't begin to cover it. Music began to tickle my ears as we reached the top, along with competing scents of cinnamon and chocolate. A quiet hum of conversation seemed to come to life at our arrival, too.
"Good evening, Mr. O'Connell."
Liam let out another snort as a lovely woman approached us. She was dressed impeccably, right down to the diamond solitaire necklace featured in the open color of her button-down silk blouse. Her lips were stained a vibrant ruby, a shade that matched the hint of blush on her cheeks. Not all of that was cosmetics.
"Lydia," Liam scolded, as he released me to greet her with a careless, if perfunctory hug and air kisses to each cheek.
Liam did air kisses.
The ice forming in the pit of my stomach cracked at the display.
"What have I told you? Mr. O'Connell is my father."
"Yes, I know," she retorted with a laugh and a warm smile that bordered on very familiar. "But I love watching you get all stuffy as you get older. That wild child turning into a proper gentleman."
His scoff echoed my own, which was probably good because there were other women present and they all looked at Liam and sighed.
Wonderful. He had a fan club.
Still, was I much better? I'd been gawking for the last five minutes. The mental reminder had me snapping my mouth shut and doing my best to smooth out my expression. I didn't know these people. More, they were clearly deferring to Liam. That meant I truly needed to be on my guard.
"That will never happen," Liam said, dismissing her assertion about his status as a gentleman. "In the meantime, this is my guest. She's found herself sans luggage and quite put out thanks to a snafu. It's been quite the trauma the last couple of days, so do everything you can to relax her and get her whatever she wants."
"Business or casual?" Lydia asked as she eyed me and one of her girls fluttered over and offered me a mug of hot cocoa. "Asia, if you'd take Mr. O'Connell's guest over to the salon and get her set up. We can take care of the hair appointment, manicure and pedicure while we pull some selections for her."
"Both," Liam told her. "Also, at least two formals, full dress, and cocktail."
What was he talking about?
"Accessories?" Lydia asked.
"The works. Whatever she is going to need."
"Lingerie?"
Liam flashed a grin my way. "Whatever the lady desires, I have no trouble at all if she wants to go au natural."
"Shoes?" Lydia continued without missing a beat.
"Definitely." He studied me, still grinning. "And motorcycle leathers. We may have to get them customized."
"She's very petite," Lydia paused in taking her notes to study me again. "I actually think she's closer to a 0 than a 2." For the first time in my life, a woman's assessment of my size and proportions didn't carry an air of judgment or criticism. If anything, there was concern. "I'm sure I'll find something that works. I'm assuming you want your girlfriend to match your colors?"
There was another teasing note.
"I'm not his girlfriend," I snapped out. Maybe I shouldn't have risen to the bait, not when Liam looked so damn pleased with himself. But I'd had enough of being talked about in the third person when I was standing right there.
"Yes," Liam said. "Work your magic for me Lydia, I'll be over here." He motioned toward some sofas. "I've got some calls to make."
With that, he sauntered off and I scowled after him. Who was paying for all of this? Not to mention, I hardly needed it. What had I done recently that required the wardrobe I had bursting at the seams back at my uncle's...
A shudder went through me. If I never wore those clothes again it would be too soon.
"Turn up the heat, Candace," Lydia said as she closed in on Asia and I. "We don't want our guest to get chilly. Now, please, let's get you over to the salon. I promise, after Asia's given you a scalp massage, you'll be a whole new person."
As much as I probably should have disputed it, I wasn't really given the opportunity as the women converged and hustled me off to their salon. A flurry of activity surrounded me, and I was still trying to fit this latest puzzle piece into place amidst the organized chaos. While I still wasn't thrilled with the idea of Liam having this woman dress me, he took no part in any of it. I caught him glancing over at us every once in a while, but for the most part he did what he said, he was on his phone.