Broken Beast

Or go with her?

Liam is all talk. I trust him to protect her.

"Go." I suck a breath through my teeth. "Have another drink."

Her lips curl into a frown.

"I'll be there when you get home." I lead her to the lobby, fetch her coat, slide it over her shoulders.

We take the elevator together. Walk to the car Liam called. He helps Briar into the back seat. Then he shoots me a don't fuck this up look and climbs in after her. "You have one minute to make out. Two if you send pictures." He blows Danielle a kiss.

She waits until he shuts the door. "Are you okay?"

"Tired."

Her fingers skim my neck. My jawline. My cheek.

I step back.

"We can go home," she says. "Finish what we started."

It's too fucking tempting. "Later."

She stares back at me for a minute, but she doesn't ask again. She kisses me goodbye and gets into the car.

Chapter Twenty-One

Adam

After a year in the mansion, I'm not used to New York City at night. With every turn, I expect darkness to fall, but the city stays light.

A softer shade of blue. Brightened by the flickering bulbs of apartment dwellers and office workers. It's Friday night. Late by normal standards. Certainly by the standards of the financial district.

Early for the rest of Manhattan.

For the people like Danielle, Liam, Briar, the ones searching for fun, love, connection. Or enough alcohol to fake it.

The building is strangely familiar. A memory of a dream. Cream and silver lobby. Shining elevator. Clean hardwood floors.

And my apartment, quiet and still, lit only by the skyline.

Come on, Adam. Even you appreciate the view. The Empire State Building in one direction. The Hudson River in another. On a clear day, you can see the Statue of Liberty. Don't tell me you're unmoved by those massive phallic symbols.

The babe in a sheet is holding a torch. A torch!

I can still see him standing at the table, raising his glass to toast.

To the miserable among us.

I can hear his laugh.

Feel his smile lighting up the room.

He thought he was the funniest asshole who ever lived.

And he was.

Now, he's gone.

It doesn't make sense.

It will never make sense.

I understand why Liam wanted to drag me to a bar. After doctors weaned me off prescription painkillers, I tried to find solace in alcohol.

A few drinks dulled the pain.

A few more and the dam broke.

Loss consumed me.

There was no joy, no purpose, no want.

Only emptiness, in every direction, as far as I could see.

I didn't find pleasure in music, film, food.

I've never been like Bash, with his love of sensory delights. I never learned to cook anything fancier than grilled cheese or chicken and rice.

Why go to all that trouble? The nourishment is the same.

I enjoyed food, sure, but I didn't live for it. I didn't seek out novel experiences. It was like sex.

A need I filled when it nagged at me and ignored the rest of the time.

Then, after the accident—

I barely taste anything.

There's gin in the fridge. Bottles of freshly squeezed citrus. Orange, grapefruit, even lemon and lime.

Louis already knows Danielle's preferences.

Or Trish relayed them.

They know my fiancée better than I do.

She's probably spent more time with them in the last week.

Who the fuck do I think I'm fooling? I'm avoiding her. She's a smart girl. She must see it.

But what else can I do?

I don't trust myself with her.

I consider the gin. Another drink will dull my inhibitions. Quiet the voice telling me not to touch her.

The selfish part of me begs me to swallow a mouthful.

But I can't hurt her.

I won't forgive myself if I hurt her.

I pour a glass of water. Drink it in three gulps. Wash in the shower. Wrap myself in a towel.

The door opens.

Familiar footsteps move closer.

"Adam." Danielle's voice is soft. "Are you there?"

I'm not dressed.

The ugly scars crisscrossing my torso are on display.

I'm half monster now.

I can't let her see me that way.

I press the door closed. "Here."

"Hey." She moves across the living room. Into the hallway. The master bedroom. "Are you going to bed?"

Maybe. I'm still wound tight. I won't fall asleep in this state. "Soon."

"Can you unzip me?"

It's a normal request.

It shouldn't feel like she's asking me to jump into the freezing Hudson.

I'm capable of honoring a simple request.

I am. "Close your eyes."

"Okay." Her breath stills. "I, uh, I'm right outside the door."

I suck a breath through my nose. Push it through my teeth. I built a multi-billionaire dollar company with my brother. I survived the last year.

I found her, convinced her, paid her.

I can unzip her fucking dress.

As long as she doesn't look at me.

I swallow hard and open the door.

She's standing there, her back to me, her hands at her sides.

An angel in the soft blue light.

What does that make me?

My hands disobey my command. One goes to her hip. The other to her neck.