Chapter 14 One Last Request — Will You Come With Me?
Over the sound of her own ragged breathing, she heard the heavy thud of fists meeting flesh and Ben’s choked cries.
One blow. Two. More.
When she finally forced her eyes to focus, she saw Liam standing there, calmly wiping blood from his knuckles with a tissue. His eyes were feral, his white shirt smeared with red.
Ben lay curled on the floor, groaning.
Blood spread slowly across the flooring, painting the room with its metallic stench.
Liam turned and looked at her.
“Liam?” Her composure shattered. Tears poured down her face.
Ryan rushed in then, boots clattering across the broken door panel.
“Call the police. And an ambulance. Notify the Carter family,” Liam said, voice like ice.
“Understood…” Ryan panted as he took out his phone.
Liam picked up the suit jacket from the sofa and walked over to her.
He knelt on the cushions, his gaze locking onto hers. Draping the jacket around her shoulders, he pulled her carefully into his arms.
“I’ll ask you one last time,” he said quietly. “Will you come with me?”
Tears clung to her lashes as she looked up at him. “I’ll go.”
“Are you sure?” His throat worked as he spoke.
She didn’t answer with words. She leaned up and pressed her cold lips to his.
Their breaths tangled for a brief, searing moment before they pulled apart.
He gently wiped away the streaks of tears on her cheeks and folded her against his chest.
The police arrived quickly; the statement-taking went smoothly.
Soon after, the paramedics carried Ben out on a stretcher.
“I’ll take her back first. Arrange for someone to move her things,” Liam said.
He lifted Emma in a bridal carry, holding her steady as he walked toward the doorway.
“Got it,” Ryan replied.
Emma lifted her gaze, breathing in the familiar scent that clung to his shirt.
…
The bathroom was spacious, yet the enclosed space made her uneasy.
“I can manage on my own,” she murmured.
“All right. I’ll get you a change of clothes,” he said softly, then stepped out.
She exhaled slowly.
Standing in front of the mirror, she stared at her dishevelled reflection, the terror from earlier still clinging to her skin.
Her fingers brushed over the jacket on her shoulders, smoothing the fabric before she bent her head and pressed a light, almost soundless kiss to it.
Knock.
She cracked the bathroom door open.
A large hand, veined and steady, appeared with a white shirt.
She took it just as a pair of slippers landed on the floor at the threshold.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Okay.”
After blow-drying her long hair, she swept it forward over her chest.
With nothing underneath, every contour would show through her own black blouse. She slipped into the oversized white shirt instead, heart hammering, then stepped out.
The room was empty.
She walked through the study, past the walk-in closet, until she reached the familiar “battlefield” from that first night.
Her hands tightened at her sides as tension crawled over her skin.
A soft sound came from outside the door.
She quickly climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up.
Knock.
“Come in,” she said quietly.
Liam entered, carrying her suitcase.
“I’ve brought your luggage,” he said, voice low. “Rest for a day before going back to work. Get changed properly. Call me when you’re done. I’ll apply the ointment after.”
“Okay.”
Without looking directly at her, he set the suitcase down and closed the door on his way out.
She slipped a bra under the loose shirt, then picked up her phone and called him back in.
He came over with a small medical kit, sat by the bed, and began to carefully dab ointment onto the bruised skin.
“How did you get here so fast?” she asked, unable to hide her curiosity.
“I worried about you, so I followed you back from the hospital,” Liam said quietly, rubbing her palm with his thumb.
“You’ve been following me?” Emma blinked, surprised.
“Yeah.”
“Thank goodness you came,” she murmured.
“But I broke your door again,” he added, sounding almost guilty, the tips of his ears turning red.
She couldn’t help a soft laugh.
“Time to apply the cream.” He released her hand and switched to a fresh cotton swab.
He tilted her chin up with gentle fingers and dabbed ointment along the bruise.
The familiar pine scent wrapped around her, their breaths mingling in the narrow space between them.
It was the first time she’d really seen him this close: bright eyes, straight nose, sharply cut lips that looked maddeningly kissable.
Why do I want to kiss him?
Startled by her own thought, she flushed and dropped her gaze.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
“No… no.”
“The other side,” he reminded her.
She quickly turned her face, eyes squeezed shut as if that could stop her mind from wandering again.
His lips quirked as he watched her.
When he finished, he said, “You haven’t eaten, right? The Oak Room sent up dinner.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
He left first, giving her space to pull herself together.
…
The next morning, she slept in.
When she finally dragged her aching body out of bed, the swelling on her cheek had gone down, but the scrapes on her hands still throbbed. Even brushing her teeth hurt.
She slipped into casual clothes and stepped out of the bedroom.
Liam was on the sofa, laptop balanced on his knees, the blankets beside him neatly folded.
Did he sleep out here last night?
“Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning.” He glanced up at her and smiled faintly. “Have breakfast first. After we stop by the hospital, we’ll go register the marriage.”
He dropped his gaze back to the screen, as if he’d just suggested picking up dry cleaning.
“All right,” she answered, fingers tugging at the hem of her shirt as she came downstairs.
Zoe bustled out of the kitchen. “Good morning, Miss Carter!”
“Morning.”