Escaping Reality

needed medical
    attention.” I reach for my champagne and sip.
    “I’m not a recluse. I just wish I could be sometimes.”
    “And the most bizarre part of that reply is your arguing that you
    aren’t a recluse.
    Billionaire”—I lift my hand—“no argument there.”
    He sets his glass down, and his hand goes to my leg, sending darts of
    heat up my thigh. “I am what I am.”
    It is a sobering statement and, probably compliments of the
    champagne, I cannot seem to hold back a wistful reply of, “That’s an
    enviable trait.”
    “And that means what?”
    I down my champagne and he arches a surprised brow. I’m pretty
    surprised myself. I value a tightly controlled tongue. “I don’t drink much
    and I haven’t eaten all day so that probably wasn’t smart.”
    “If it makes you stop being afraid to speak your mind to me, then it
    was a good choice.”
    I don’t play dumb. I probably have the champagne to thank for that,
    too. “You’re intimidating.”
    “No. Not to you.”
    “So you agree you’re intimidating.”
    “To some people but not to you. I’m not your Godzilla, baby, and we
    both know it.”
    “No. No, you aren’t. Far from it.” I pause and wait, testing him. Will
    he push me for the answers he swears he can wait for? He doesn’t ask.
    Instead, he arches his brow again, the look in his eyes clearly saying “did I
    pass the test?”
    “You really aren’t going to ask, are you?”
    “I told you—”
    “Tell you when I’m ready.”
    “Exactly.” He fills my glass and hands it to me.
    “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
    “Yes. Then maybe you’ll feel ready.”
    I laugh. “You’re very…honest.”
    His thumb strokes my cheek, tender and sensual. “Raw and honest,
    baby. Remember?”
    This is a repeating theme with him, and while I’ve let guilt make the
    words about me, I wonder if they are really more about him. “Who made
    you hate lies?”
    “Doesn’t everyone?”
    “That’s a deflection.” I know because I’m so damn good at it.
    Surprises flickers in his eyes and he sets his glass down. “Money
    breeds lies, baby. They swim like sharks all around me.”
    More deflection, but it tells me more about him than perhaps he
    realizes. About us.
    Outwardly we are night and day, but I now know why we share what
    has felt like an instant bond. We sense what is beneath the surface of each
    other, and it is the same. Everyone in his world he once loved is gone.
    Everyone who still lives wants something from him.
    I reach up and touch his cheek. “I don’t want your money.”
    His hand covers mine. “I know.”
    “The phone—”
    “Was a gift to me. It gives me piece of mind that you’re safe.” His lips
    curve. “And maybe you’ll even feel a little obligated to answer my calls,
    though I’m not gambling on that.”
    I barely register the joke, but rather the concern beneath it. No one
    shows concern for me and I do not take it for granted. Regretting the buzz
    in my head, I set my glass down, done with the bubbles. “I’m serious, Liam.
    You spent a lot of money on me. I need you to know that I’m not one of
    those people—”
    He leans in and kisses me. “I do know.”
    “You didn’t let me finish.”
    “You don’t have to. I know you aren’t one of those people. I don’t let
    those people in.”
    His voice lowers, roughens. “You’re in, Amy.”
    I am stunned by his absolute statement. “You barely know me.”
    His lips curve. “I can think of all kinds of ways we can remedy that,
    with and without clothing.”
    My lips curve. “You are a very bad billionaire.”
    “I think you like that.”
    “I don’t think I know enough to be sure.”
    “Then we’d better find out.”
    I shock myself by saying, “Tonight?”
    His eyes gleam with approval. “Oh yeah, baby. Tonight.”
    Tonight. The word lingers in the air and there is a silent
    understanding between us in a way I have never shared with anyone. We
    both know that I’ve just erased the question of where this night will end,
    and it will not be with me alone, regretting a goodbye we both know I
    never wanted to say. I’ll convincingly feed him what my file says I should
    and then he won’t look into my background. Lies to protect him that handle
    the here and now. I’ll figure out the later, when I have some time alone.
    A woman delicately clears her throat and Liam and I reluctantly break
    apart, our eyes lingering on each other’s a moment before our salads are
    placed in