Escaping Reality

I’m ready?” Does he not understand I will never
    be ready?
    “When you’re ready,” he repeats, removing his cell phone from his
    pocket. “I’m going to have the hotel deliver sheets and pillows.”
    “No. I didn’t invite you to stay. You were only helping me in the
    door.”
    “Are you saying you don’t want me to stay?”
    “You were supposed to help me in the door,” I repeat.
    “As I remember it, I did.”
    “Liam—”
    “You want me to stay.”
    “That’s arrogant.”
    “It’s honest.”
    Honest. I wish he would stop using that word. “You can’t stay.”
    “Do you want me to stay?”
    Now it’s a question. And yes. Yes. I want him to stay. I should say
    “no”. The word won’t leave my mouth. “It’s not that simple.”
    He reaches for my hand and pulls me close, and I tell myself to push
    away but I don’t even try. “Let me make it simple, Amy. You want me to
    stay. I want to stay. I’m staying.” He strokes my hair. “And you need help.
    I’m going to help you, baby. You aren’t alone.”
    A tornado of emotions rolls through me, and the debris of my past is
    like glass cutting me inside out. Becoming his charity case is so far from
    being Cinderella it’s like a horror show, not a fairy tale. I’ll take alone any
    day. “No.” I hiss out the word, and this time it comes from my mouth. “I
    don’t want your help.”
    “You need my help.”
    I’m emboldened in my mix of anger and mortification. “How did we
    go from you fucking me properly to me being the needy girl you met on the
    plane you want to help?”
    “Correction. The gorgeous woman I met on a plane and still plan to
    fuck properly many times over if I have my way. And there’s someone who
    needs help in my path every day, and yes, I help where I can, but Amy, I’m
    here, with you, because you are you.”
    “Stop saying that,” I blurt. “You don’t even know who I am.”
    “But I want to.”
    And that’s the problem. I want him to and he can’t. “One night. We
    were making this one night.”
    “Were we, now?” He arches a brow and looks amused. “I don’t
    remember that agreement, so I’d better start making my case for two.
    Starting with making tonight good for you.”
    Good for me? Does he not think a world-shattering orgasm was good
    for me? Surprising me, he pulls out his cell phone and starts to dial. “Who
    are you calling at this hour?” I ask, suddenly worried. Has a Wiki page given
    me a façade of safety with Liam I shouldn’t trust? I don’t know this man and
    he knows too much about me.
    “This is Liam Stone,” he informs the person on the other end of the
    line, amusement lingering in his eyes. “I checked into the presidential suite
    about thirty minutes ago. Yes. Right.
    Everything is fine, but I’m at a friend’s apartment across the street
    and one of her moving boxes is missing. She needs queen-sized sheets,
    pillows, a blanket, towels, and toiletries. I’ll pay double whatever your
    listed price is to have them brought across the street to me, and whoever
    delivers the items will be well rewarded.”
    I press my hand to my face and turn away from him, walking to the
    end of the hallway to stare at the apartment that is not mine, but is all I
    have. What have I done by bringing Liam here?

He’s determined to help me now and I can’t tell him who I am, but he
    has money to uncover whatever he wants to uncover. Lots of money. If my
    handler doesn’t have my bases well covered, Liam will find out who I am. It
    could get him and me both killed.
    “Perfect,” I hear Liam say, and I can tell he’s moved closer. “And just
    to be clear,” he continues, “I have the suite indefinitely, if you could make
    sure that’s on record.”
    Indefinitely. The idea that I might be across the street from this man,
    and I can simply ignore him, is pure insanity. You don’t have to be a rocket
    scientist to know that you don’t just ignore Liam Stone if he doesn’t want to
    be ignored.
    I turn back around to find him closer than I thought, with only a few
    steps separating us at the most, and I look away, knowing I’m not quite as
    collected as I need to be. In the process, my gaze lands on his flat, naked
    stomach. My mouth goes instantly dry and not just because of his lack of
    clothing, which would be enough in itself, but it seems I’ve found Liam’s
    hinted-at tattoo. The number 3.14 is etched in his skin over the Pi
    mathematical symbol, which frames his