Chapter 38 A Bit Of Possession From Pattie And Liam
Pattie
Liam didn’t come home tonight. I’d already called Jerry, but he swore Liam wasn't at the club. So where the hell was he?
My gut twisted with certainty. He’d found someone else—a new muse, a replacement. And I needed to know who had the audacity to take what was mine.
I didn’t know her name yet, but I trusted my instincts. Liam hadn’t touched me since I returned. Worse, he barely made time for me at all. That wasn’t like him.
There was only one explanation. Another woman.
The Liam I know of before I left doesn’t sleep away from home. Except it was something important, something about the club. His money.
I grabbed my phone and paced the living room, anxiety crawling under my skin, then dialed one of the girls. She picked up almost immediately.
“Hey, girl, it’s been a while,” Naya chirped.
I hadn’t called to exchange pleasantries. She wasn’t someone on my level.
“It has,” I replied flatly, “but I’m calling to ask you something.”
Her tone sharpened with curiosity. “About what?”
I should’ve done this sooner. I’d avoided asking because I knew how she was—she’d spread the word that I was losing my grip on him. But right now, I didn’t care. Desperation outweighed pride.
“Has Liam been spending time with any new girl lately?” I asked, holding my breath.
There was a pause before she answered. “Um… no. Mr. King barely even looks at us, as long as we bring in his money.”
I should’ve felt relieved. I didn’t.
“You’re sure?” I pressed, chewing on my nail.
“Positive. None of the girls who tried to get close succeeded. We even joked you must’ve put a spell on him.”
There was jealousy in her voice, faint but unmistakable. Of course there was. Everyone wanted Mr. King—his presence, his authority, the power he carried without effort.
“Good,” I said, forcing firmness into my tone. “I don’t like flies buzzing around my man.”
She laughed softly. “Well, Pat, just remember—even the best underwear can be replaced.”
I smirked darkly. Another reason I despised her. That filthy mouth of hers, how I wish to drag that tongue off her throat.
I ended the call and clenched my phone.
If he hadn’t found someone in the club… then where did she come from?
My thoughts were a mess, tangled and restless. I couldn’t let my life slip back into what it was before him—dull, predictable, empty.
When Liam entered my world, he rewrote everything. The old Pattie disappeared, and this version of me… she doesn’t know how to exist without him. So yes, I’m allowed to panic when I feel him slipping away, when I sense he’s grown tired of me.
Should I pressure Jerry for answers? Maybe corner him until he lets something slip. But I know him too well. His loyalty to Mr. King runs deep—Liam dragged him out of nothing and turned him into something. Jerry would never betray that.
No. I’d have to find the truth myself. Watch him. Follow the trail quietly until I uncover what he’s hiding.
Please, Liam… don’t be done with me yet.
I lowered myself onto the couch, the weight of it all crashing down at once. My eyes burned, tears threatening to spill as I stared ahead, hollow and aching.
Liam
"How are things?" I asked, voice low and clipped, the cigar pinched between my fingers as I exhaled a slow ribbon of smoke into the dim room.
Jerry’s reply came quick and steady through the phone. "Things are great, sir. Mr. Chess has complied."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Mmm. I see. Good job, Jerry… but—"
I tilted my head back, eyes sliding to Claire. She lay sprawled across the sheets, chest rising and falling in the soft rhythm of sleep, her back was turned against me and on her shoulder were hickeys I had left. My expression twisted—something dark and possessive curling behind my ribs.
I turned away from her, facing the window again, voice dropping into something colder, harder.
"I need you to handle something for me."
How fucking dare he. Raise his hand to her. Touch what’s mine.
He’s going to pay. Slowly. And he’s going to remember every second of it.
“Yes, boss, anything,” Jerry replied, voice thick with that eager edge he always got when he knew how my angry voice sounded.
“Get ahold of Mr. Anthony for me,” I said, fingers tightening around the phone until the edges bit into my palm. “There’s a score I need to settle with that prick.”
“Of course, boss. It’ll be done.”
I let the phone drop onto the table with a dull clack. One last deep pull from the cigar, the smoke curling hot and bitter in my lungs, then I crushed it out.
I stood, shrugged off the tension in my shoulders, and crossed to the bed. The mattress dipped under my weight as I lowered myself beside her.
Claire.
Even in sleep she looked fragile, the faint shadow of the bruise still clinging to her cheek like a mark that didn’t belong there. My jaw clenched. He’d put that on her.
My blood shouldn’t boil like this. She’s his wife—his by paper, by vows, by years. And yet every instinct in me screams she’s mine. That he’d dared raise a hand to what I’ve already decided belongs to me… that violence should only ever come from me, and only ever for her pleasure. Never pain. Never disrespect.
I reached out, slow, and let the backs of my knuckles graze the soft skin just below the fading mark. She stirred, a small turn of her head, lips parting on a sigh that hit me low in the gut.
Mrs. Claire… What the hell do I want from you?
I told myself it was just hunger. Just bodies. Just the thrill of taking what another man thought he owned. But this—this possessive ache clawing through my chest—is something else. Something darker. I want to claim you completely. Strip away every trace of him until the only name you answer to is mine. Until the only hands you crave are these.
For the first time in my life I want to own something—someone—that was never mine to begin with. And I want to consume you until there’s nothing left for anyone else. Not even the ghost of the man who put that bruise on your face.
I leaned closer, breath brushing her hair, voice a low murmur she wouldn’t hear.
“Soon, sweetheart. I’m going to make sure he never touches you again.”
Not like that.
Not ever.
And when I’m done, you won’t want him to. You’ll only want me.