I started listening in earnest. Fuck it, my curiosity was going to kill me.
"I have plans, Dahlia," Liam growled. I shot him a fearful look. He sounded close to murder.
"...don't care...your terms," her voice was tinny through the speaker but I could hear the contempt.
"Dahlia...," he held the phone away from his ear. "Fuck you too," he growled and hung up the phone.
I shrank back further. His entire body was radiating pure, vengeful fury. The hatred was coming off in waves. I felt sick to my stomach.
"Can I help?" I ventured.
He snapped his gaze to me like he had forgotten I was there. Gradually the fury left his smoldering eyes and he unclenched his fists.
"Fuck," he exhaled.
"Are you okay?"
He let out a grim chuckle. "Not even close."
I slid closer. "Can I help?" I asked again.
He paused and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He froze there like Rodin's The Thinker for several moments before he nodded, then nodded again. "You can, actually."
"Tell me how."
He chuckled darkly. "I can't believe I am even going to ask you this, but will you come with me into the lion's den?"
"What?"
He leaned back. "I've been summoned to appear before Dahlia Graves."
Chapter Twenty - Six
We swept out of Center City, heading west on Walnut. The buildings of University City gave over to the tightly packed rowhomes of West Philadelphia. Crossing through Upper Darby, we suddenly emerged into the entirely different world of the Main Line.
The longer we drove, the more Liam's mood lightened.
"Just let me see what she wants and then we'll go," he assured me.
"There are plenty of amazing restaurants out here," I nodded. "The night is still young."
He smiled at me. "Thank you for coming with me, Shay, I know it's asking a lot."
"Hey, I'm finally meeting your mother," I grinned. "That's even more 'officially dating' than going out to dinner."
"After putting you though meeting Dahlia, I feel like I owe you a loftier title than just girlfriend."
"What were you thinking?"
"Hmm, I'll have to consider it," he smiled as we rolled to a stop. Darius threw the car into park and came around to open the door. Liam grabbed my ass as I emerged from the open door. "I like you in skirts," he said in that thick whisper of his that signals he's about to say something filthy. Darius chose that moment to head right back into the driver's seat.
"It's finally warm enough to wear them," I replied, my skin buzzing. I knew Liam didn't care to hear my explanation, but he nodded all the same. And the truth was, it really wasn't warm enough to wear a skirt. I was shivering, but right now it had nothing to do with the cold.
"Give me your underwear," he said.
Ah, there was the filthiness.
I hesitated. I didn't know Dahlia and she didn't know me. And from what I did know, she sounded like a complete horror show. A brittle old woman who would find going bare-assed completely scandalous.
I nodded. "Right here?"
He nodded once. I reached up under my skirt and handed the scrap of white lace to him. He took it, crumpled it in his hand and tucked it into the inner pocket of his suit coat. "Thank you."
I squirmed, feeling the bareness of my thighs brushing against the silk lining of my skirt. "Thank you," I half moaned.
Liam turned to face the gray pile of stone. "We just see what the hell she couldn't say over the phone and get out of here," he leaned his head close to my ear. "I have something new I want to try tonight."
I swallowed hard, the ache already sounding in my groin. "Okay," I could handle a short visit. This was the woman who raised Liam...and I really liked Liam, so maybe I'd end up liking her after all?
Liam took my arm. His stiff spine, the tight grip of his fingers, the pulse that beat at his temple all put me on high alert as we walked through the high door into the grand foyer. He steered me to the left, into a vast great room. "She knows we're here," he rumbled as he sat back on the Victorian sofa alongside the huge fireplace. "We can relax for the moment."
I smoothed my skirt and sat down, acutely aware of my nakedness underneath. I was trying to do exactly that, but as I looked around, my whole body was on red alert. There was something so...wrong, about this house. And as I looked around it began to dawn on me what it was.
Just like Liam's apartment, there was nothing here that pointed to a personal life at all. No baby pictures. No snapshots, no portraits...no record of Liam's childhood at all.
It was like he didn't exist to her.
But that's ludicrous. She's his mother!
I looked harder. I must have missed them. I stood up and walked to the mantle and eyed the framed portraits there.
They were pictures of white Persian cats.
A flutter of revulsion made me giggle hysterically. I shot a look at Liam, but he was staring straight ahead, lost in brooding, angry silence.
"Oh shit!" I startled as a white blur shot past me. Like one of the pictures coming to life, a gorgeous white Persian leapt up and settled into the chair by the fire. It turned three times and then settled down to watch us both with disapproving eyes.
I looked from this animal back to the pictures on the mantle and back again.
It was one and the same.
"Dahlia breeds Persians." Liam sounded like he had something stuck in his throat. "Or, rather, she sponsors a breeder so she doesn't have to deal with the messy life bits that gross her out...." He pointed to the odd assortment of vases and urns that lined the great stone mantle. "All this guy's parents and grandparents, right there."
I felt my nose twitch. No record of Liam's childhood, but she had shrines to her dead cats. It made my skin crawl.
There was the echoing sound of high heels on the marble floors. "Billy?"
We both turned at the voice, me startling badly, Liam turning more slowly, his every movement dripping in contempt.
Dahlia Graves stood in the wide doorway, resplendent in a designer suit and a string of pearls. She was taller than I had expected. Her hair was cut into a sleek, stylish pageboy. It was as smooth as glass and was a shade lighter than the dove gray suit she was wearing.
She looked down her aquiline nose at us, and I recognized the wicked set of her mouth. It was the same as Liam's. But while he had that boyish dimple to offset its severity, Dahlia's lips were cruel.
She stood there impatiently. She was waiting for some kind of greeting, but Liam didn't make any move to say hello. He only stared at her....
She, in turn, stared at me.
"H-hello," I stammered. "I'm Shay." I held out my hand.
She looked down at it like I had offered her a dead fish. I was certain she knew her son had my panties in his pocket.
"Shay," she repeated. She made my name sound obscene.
Liam made a low sound and moved behind me, squeezing my upper arms possessively. "Dahlia, this is Shay. We were just on our way out for the evening...."
"You're together?" she said. It wasn't so much a question as an accusation.
Liam gently moved me aside and stepped in front of me. I hated how grateful I was to be out of her direct line of sight. She was looking at me like I had just defecated on her carpet.
"Why did you want me to come over instead of just telling me on the phone?" Liam was exasperated.
"Well, Billy, I certainly don't want to keep you from your plans with...Shay," she spat my name out and I felt the gooseflesh rise on my arms. My cheeks were heating up and my heart pounded in my ears. I was going to lose it in a second. "But this," she smacked an opened envelope into Liam's palm, "needs your signature."
Liam didn't look down, but that dangerous pulse beat at his temple. "What is it?" he asked, steel in his voice.
Dahlia eyed me and then lifted her chin. "Family business."
She looked back and forth with those icy blue eyes that chilled m
e to the bone. "Enjoy your night out together."
"So...that's it?" Liam asked.
"That's what? I have plans too. Your brother doesn't like waiting for his dinner," Dahlia said, her voice a chill in the air.
She swept from the room without saying goodbye.
"You have a brother?" I stammered, watching her go. Their entire exchange felt thick with secrets. If I were still looking for hidden meanings, I was sure to find them lurking in every shadow. Hatred, guilt - a whole lot of racism. Layers upon layers of them. Dahlia Graves was like an onion of bad feelings.
"I don't have a brother," Liam said dully. "She's talking about the fucking cat."