The Untouchables(99)

Love Mom

~A

“Thank you all for this,” I said. “Honestly, our son is going to want for nothing. I’ll escape back into my little corner now.” They laughed. At least someone could laugh as I handed the mafia bear back to Mel.

She didn’t look at me. Instead, she focused on the women in front of her, asking for the cake.

Stepping into the hall with my father, I did my best not to yell. Someone was going to die. I wasn’t sure who, but I knew damn well it wasn’t going to be my wife, my child or myself.

“There is a mole in my house. This is the second time she’s gotten in. I want them found, now.”





TWENTY-NINE

“Blood!…Blood!… That’s a good thing! A ghost who bleeds is less dangerous!”

—Gaston Leroux





MELODY

Sitting at my vanity, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the idiotic toy. My mother was like the Joker, playing mind games with people all while reminding us that she was always there, lurking. Somehow she had gotten this toy to me without appearing on any cameras and without alerting any of the men on guard. Liam had already taken it apart and stuffed it back together, there were no cameras or wires in it. It was just a toy. I didn’t get it. Even with how fucked up I was, every time I looked down at my stomach, I felt my throat close up as I tried to fight back the emotions building their way up. He wasn’t even here yet and I knew I would die—that I would do anything—for him. How could my own mother be so hell-bent on destroying me? Even with her issues with Orlando, I’d come from her, I was part of her, and she still wanted to kill me.

“You look stunningly beautiful,” Liam said as he stepped up behind me, and met my gaze in the mirror.

I couldn’t help but grin as I turned to face him. There he stood, not even a foot away from me, dressed in a full tuxedo, shiny black shoes and he’d even bothered to comb his hair.

“Where are we going?”

He had gotten me a brand new dress; long, blue, draped silk, chiffon, bustier with an internal bodice by Alexander McQueen. It fit my stomach perfectly, and I knew that he’d had Adriana’s help with this, but it was beautiful and a little grand for a normal night.

“The right response is thank you, sweetheart and you look amazing as well.” He pouted, trying to fix his bowtie.

Rising, I grabbed a hold of the tie myself. “With the exception of your hair, you look amazing. Now where the fuck are we going?”

“You have no idea how to do this either, do you?” He smirked, looking down at my failing attempt to tie his bowtie.

“Not even a little bit.” I laughed, letting go. “But isn’t that what good wives do? Fix their husbands’ ties?”

“Is it? I think the fact that you can’t tie a bowtie is charming.” He kissed my forehead before looking into the mirror.

Crossing my arms, I simply stared at him for a moment. “You’re laying it on thick, husband. And you haven’t told me where we’re going yet.”

He sighed. “We’re going on a date.”

“Liam, I’ve told you—”

“You don’t date. I know, but I date. And since marriage is about compromise, I’m going to ignore you.”

“I’m sorry, asshole, but how is this a compromise?” I was not going to be steamrolled by him only hours after his mother’s little stunt. Having a baby shower with women I didn’t know and didn’t like; I was still a bit ticked about it.

Rolling his eyes, he pulled out two tickets from his jacket and handed them to me.

“Bianca e Falliero.” My eyes caressed each word slowly, like they couldn’t believe what they were seeing, before I glanced up at him.

How did he know?

I loved this opera. It was the very first one I had ever seen with my father.

I wasn’t sure what else to say, except, “You don’t like opera.”

“No.” He leaned against my dresser. “That’s why it’s a compromise. Tonight, I just want you to enjoy yourself, not as a boss, but as yourself.”

“They’re one and the same, but thank you,” I whispered. He really didn’t understand how much this meant to me. I had to fight the urge to cry. What in the hell was wrong me?

“Shit. Ugh, these damn hormones!” I groaned, trying my best to stop my makeup from running.

Placing his hand on my waist, Liam pulled me closer to him, and all I could smell was warm honey and cinnamon. He didn’t say anything, he simply held onto me as I held onto him. This wasn’t the first time in months I’d cried over the smallest things in front of him. Crying wasn’t something I liked to do. It was foreign to me and I preferred it that way. He didn’t tell me it was okay, and he didn’t bring attention to it. He just held me until I was calm enough, and then he never brought it up again. I was grateful for it. It made me feel more in control of myself, in control of my surroundings. It made me feel safe. He made me feel safe when I had never realized I needed to.