“You should have worn different ones.” I traced my fingers over the swollen flesh, and I knew she must have blisters under all the intricate woven leather. The skin that was visible was rubbed raw. I could only imagine what the back of her heel looked like.
“I didn’t have another pair that was suitable—the dress would have been ruined.”
“I don’t give a damn about the dress,” I muttered and started to undo the buckle on the shoe.
Shelby reached forward, covering my hand. “You can’t take them off! I won’t get them back on!”
“I don’t plan on you doing that,” I growled as I pushed her hand away, and as carefully as I could, pulled the shoes off both feet, hissing when I saw the torn flesh and blood. Shelby let out a painful sound as I set her feet on the carpet. “Don’t move,” I instructed her.
I grabbed my cell phone and called for the car to come immediately to the far side of the front door. I was beyond done with the event, and now I had the perfect excuse; I needed to get Shelby home. I sat beside her, removed my shoes, pulled off my socks, and shoved my bare feet back into the leather. I kneeled in front of Shelby again and gently drew my socks over her injured feet, cursing at the small whimpers that escaped her tightly clenched lips. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it would at least cover her feet until we got home. I knew blisters were easily infected. Picking up the offensive shoes, I chucked them into the silver rubbish can beside her.
“Liam! Those were expensive! You can’t throw them out.”
“Can. And did. You aren’t wearing them again.”
“But Lily—”
I pressed forward, cupping the back of her head in my hand and holding her face close. “Listen to me, Shelby. I don’t give a bloody fuck about the shoes, the dress, Lily, or anything else right now but you. Understand?”
Her eyes were wide. “Okay.”
My phone buzzed, indicating the car was out front. I stood and held out my hand. “Can you walk?”
“Yes.” Shelby took my hand and stood, immediately gasping when her weight rested on her feet.
“Sod it.” Leaning down, I scooped her into my arms. I didn’t want her in any more pain.
“You can’t carry me out of here! People will see!”
I shook my head. So bloody stubborn.
“Can. And will. I don’t care who sees. Now, for God’s sake, Beaker, relax and stop struggling.” I paused. “Keep your head low,” I warned.
Shelby sighed in resignation and buried her head into my shoulder, her body resting against me, molding to mine perfectly, just the way I knew she would. Swiftly, I crossed the foyer, my own head lowered, not making eye contact with anyone. I drew in a deep breath and walked out the double doors, hurrying to the waiting car and ignoring the constant flash of cameras around us. Luckily, we were leaving early enough that they weren’t prepared, and the shouting was minimal. All they saw was two people leaving—neither of our faces was recognizable.
The driver had the door open, and I slid into the back, keeping Shelby tight against me. “Go now,” I instructed.
When the car moved forward, I breathed a sigh of relief, but I didn’t relax my hold on Shelby. I nuzzled her fragrant hair, and she sighed against my chest. For a few moments, the car was silent. Shelby didn’t move, and I didn’t let her go. She felt right nestled in my arms. As if she belonged there.
Finally, she tilted her head back, and our eyes met. Hers were wide and wary as they met mine. The air around us grew heated and pulsated with emotion.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
My voice was pitched low. “Why are you fighting this, Shelby? Fighting us? I know you feel this—how right this is for both of us.”
She hesitated. “I’m scared.”
“So am I. But I want this—I want you beside me in all things. I want to look after you the way you do for me. I’m willing to take the risk.”
“I’m older than you.”
I traced her soft cheek with my index finger. I threw her own words back at her. “Barely five years, Shelby—you’re hardly cradle snatching. Five years is nothing. It means nothing.”
“I’m still married. It could be a problem for you.”
“Not by choice. We’ll figure it out. We can figure anything out as long as it’s what you want. Everett has people looking for your ex—the fucker is hiding like the cowardly, thieving wanker he is. If we don’t locate him, you can get divorced without him present. It will happen.”
“Your reputation…”
“Fuck that. I don’t care.”
“What if it doesn’t work out?”
“What if it does?”
“The press and your life…”
I pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “We’ll handle it together, Shelby. If you let me, I want to be your partner—in everything. Stop throwing up roadblocks. Let me try. Give me a chance. Give us a chance.” I met her eyes. “Let me in. Tell me you feel something.”