Taken With Trouble (CAUGHT IN CHAOS #2)

21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Serena

My heart races as I shut the door to Liam’s room, locking it behind me. I press my fingers to my neck, counting my pulse. One hundred and thirty beats per minute. Stupid heart. It’s acting as if I worked out. I feel like I have. It’s been a while since I exercised the muscle beneath my chest in this way, and it’s protesting the very thought.

“You know I don’t love her anymore.”

The weight of those words press hard against my chest, trying to infiltrate the tiny crevices in the armor around my heart. But I can’t allow them entry. They were a lie. He’s playing with me. He has to be. He and Scarlett were like Bonnie and Clyde. Or he was just Clyde, and he’s manipulating me to think he’s a philanthropic thief and therefore better than everyone else. Because that’s exactly what a conman does. So no, I don’t believe him. And no, I won’t read into those words like there was a special message for me. We have a job to do tonight, and in the morning, all this is over. I have to focus on that.

I drop onto the bed, exhausted. Rolling to my side, I cradle a pillow to my chest.

My pulse finally, fully slows, and I glance at the time on the wall.

Wait. What’s that… ?

He has a camera in his clock.

That man! How on earth can I trust any word coming out of his mouth?

I pinch my eyes closed. In the morning, when Liam’s grandfather is safe, I’ll get another message to Caleb. Hopefully a full one this time. Soon this nightmare will be over.

But after a restless thirty-minute nap, I wake feeling heavy, like the nightmare is only beginning.

Six hours later, we’ve gone over every aspect of the mission in detail. How we’ll enter, how we’ll act, when the lights and security will go down and how we’ll get away. Each plan has a backup Plan A, B, C, and D. We’re prepared for any scenario. I have to hand it to Liam; he’s good at this.

Because it’s who he is. I have to remember that. There will be no heart fluttering when he pulls me in for a dance. It will be strictly strategic. There won’t be any longing looks or touches from him that mean anything because it’s all for the con.

I fix my hair with the curling iron Liam had but wouldn’t tell me why. He insisted it was a necessity when forging a specific kind of painting.

Then I do my makeup with the items we picked up yesterday. Mascara, foundation, and a little bronzer. Any more, and I fear I’ll turn myself into a clown.

Quietly, I open the bathroom door, not wanting to alert Liam. I’m not sure why. Makeup usually makes women more confident, but it’s having the opposite effect on me. I feel awkward and vulnerable. I make it to the bedroom, hurry inside, and lock the door behind me. I lean against the door with a sigh. Made it.

“Did you just try to lock me out?”

I jump as Liam emerges from the walk-in closet.

“Or were you locking us in… together?” He wiggles his brows as his eyes rove over my face. “Oh, that’s not good.”

“What?” I cover my face, horrified. I knew the bronzer was too much.

He struts toward me, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. Who carries a handkerchief these days ?

I think he’s going to hand it to me, but he steps up next to me, less than a foot separating us, as he lifts the handkerchief to my cheek.

“You missed blending this part. May I?”

Sometimes I forget he’s an artist. Of course he’d be particular about how I look.

“Fine.”

He moves in closer, pressing his chest against my arms. He lifts his other hand to the opposite side of my face, cupping my chin as he gently runs the handkerchief over my cheekbone and jaw.

It’s a good thing the door is still holding me upright because his tenderness is making my bones melt. His eyes never leave his work, and he takes his job seriously. Like I’m as precious to him as his paintings. I hold my breath, scared to mess him up, scared to let him see what he’s doing to me.

“One more thing.” He drops the handkerchief and pulls something from his pocket, pressing it to my lips.

“Wh—” I start, but he stops my words with his finger.

“No talking. You’ll ruin it.” He removes his finger, replacing it with lipstick, rubbing it on my bottom lip like the master painter he is. He takes his time, and the longer it takes, the more lightheaded I get. He’s treating me like I’m his masterpiece. I need to breathe, but I can’t. He’s touching me in a way no one ever has—like I matter.

He pulls the tube away and replaces it with his thumb, dabbing at my lips. My entire body is in tune with his touch, every nerve narrowed in on the point of contact. My heart rate is out of control, my palms sweating, his warmth scorching. I want him to kiss me.

His gaze darts to mine, then back to my lips. My heart thumps against my ribcage so hard he must be able to hear it.

His head bends toward mine, and my body stills, waiting.

He tilts my chin and presses his lips to mine in the barest of touches. But he’s gone before I can respond. He pulls back with a satisfied grin that now boasts the smallest tint of red. “Perfect.” A tiny thrill shoots through me, but I immediately tamp it down .

I breathe, at last there’s oxygen in my lungs, in my head. “I think you’re wearing more lipstick than me,” I lie.

“Good.” He drags his bottom lip into his mouth, licking at the color. “We’ll match.” He turns and retrieves something from the closet while I desperately try to pick up what is left of my dignity, reinstalling my faulty security forces Liam clearly hacked. There’s no other reason for my body to respond like this when he touches me.

I suppose there is one other reason. But I refuse to give my heart to another man only intent on exploiting it. He can lie all he wants, claiming he’s a changed man, but I will only believe him when he’s done the honest thing and turned himself in.

“Do you want to get dressed first?” Liam asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. He carries the dress and suit bags out of the closet and drapes them on the bed. He unzips mine and pulls out the red dress and the tiny bag at the bottom with the matching jewelry.

“I thought I was wearing the black dress. Isn’t the point to blend in?”

He shakes his head. “Darling, you could never blend in.” He reaches into the bag again. “Don’t forget these.” He tosses a set of silicone bra cups in the air and catches them with a smirk. “Or you could always go without.”

“Give me those.” I snatch them out of his hand.

“Excellent choice.” He releases them to me then picks up my opposite hand and brings it to his lips. “Change fast, I’ve been dying to see you in that dress again.” He presses a soft kiss to the back of my hand, and despite myself, a flush creeps up my neck. His eyes travel down my face and neck, and I grow hotter by the second. What is happening? I don’t blush. I’ve trained myself not to.

His eyes rush back up to mine, a devilish gleam in his taunting irises. I hold my breath, waiting for him to tease me, but instead, he drops my hand then turns, retrieves his suit bag, and walks to the living room.

I nearly collapse on the bed in relief when I remember the camera in here and the computers out there. I rush after him.

“Wait.” I pick up the tie Liam left draped over the couch. “Put this around your eyes. ”

He pumps his brows. “Another dance lesson? Are you leading me this time?”

“Would you prefer I smash the creeper camera in your bedroom?”

He has the decency to appear a bit chagrined. “For the record, I didn’t put them up to watch you dress. They’ve always been there.”

“I figured. You’re still going to wear this while I change.”

“It’s as if you don’t trust me.” He plops on the couch, dropping his bag beside him.

“I don’t.”

“I’m offended. I thought we had a nice heart-to-heart.”

“I have trust issues.”

“Figures.” He takes the tie, tying it around his eyes. After he knots it once, I reach out and tighten it, adding the second knot.

“Ouch,” he grunts. “I’ll stay right here.” He promises after it’s in place.

“You better.” I lean closer, letting my lips brush his ear. He goes absolutely still. “Or I’ll cut off your fingers.”

He shudders. “You’re so sexy.”

My face warms. Again. This won’t do. I hit him with a throw pillow—a little harder than necessary—but he only laughs as I retreat to the room.

I take off my clothes then hold up the gown. I was lying when I told the woman I hated this dress. I’ve never worn anything more beautiful. I never had a mom to buy me pretty dresses. Never had a reason to dress up. When I put this on, I felt like a little girl living out her unfulfilled princess fantasies and wanted to spin and twirl to watch the skirt fan out. I pull on the dress and zip the side, then stick my bra on. These things are going to give me anxiety. What if they fall out? Is that a thing? They don’t seem very reliable, and if we have to run for our lives tonight, I prefer reliability. I jump up and down a few times to test it out.

“What are you doing in there?” Liam calls.

“Nothing.” I bend over, then bolt upright and throw a few punches into the air. The bra stays put. It passes safety inspection.

I put on the earrings Liam insisted on purchasing for me. He wanted to get the matching necklace, but I refused. Necklaces can be used as a murder weapon, and I refuse to do half of a killer’s job for them. Earrings, on the other hand, have many uses. I finish my last earring then strap my gun to my thigh. It doesn’t feel like enough protection, so I put a knife under the zipper of my dress and stand to look in the full-length mirror.

I don’t even recognize myself. I look mysterious and elegant, like the woman I wanted to be when I was younger. That dream vanished a long time ago. It’s pretend. I grab the shoes and head out of the room.

Then freeze in my tracks.

Liam’s eyes are still covered with the tie as he attempts to dress but he hasn’t made it very far. He’s got his pants on but searches around blindly for his shirt.

I snort.

He stands up straight. “What was that?”

My breath catches.

“Serena.” He turns right in my direction. “Are you laughing at me?” He takes a step closer and rams his shin into the coffee table.

I snort again, but cover the sound with my hand. His head whips up, like he can see right through the tie, and takes another step. I can’t help but watch. His black pants are tailored perfectly to display his excellent quads. His chest is another world entirely. It’s a map of muscles and secrets hidden in tattoos. I catch sight of a beautiful willow tree, and my lungs seize. I press a hand to my stomach, forcing myself to breathe.

“Where are you?” He stops an arm’s length away, and I clamp my lips shut, refusing to lose whatever game this is. “You know, I’m good at finding things I want.”

My heart skips a beat, stupidly reacting to his words. He doesn’t want me. I don’t want him. So why are goosebumps breaking out on my skin? Why am I struggling to breathe normally?

It’s my body’s natural reaction to something, but surely not him. It can’t be him.

His fingertips brush my skirt, and my heart stops. “There you are.” With his eyes covered, I can focus on his smile and only his smile. Hidden is the ever-present teasing glint in his eye that has me questioning everything. I just see the curves of his lips and the half-moon creases in his cheeks .

His other hand finds my waist, and he skims his hands up to the fitted bodice, his fingers trailing over the zipper.

“A knife,” he whispers. “Good to know.”

“I’m saving that one for you.” I manage to get out.

He laughs, but his hands continue their perusal of my dress, wrapping around my back. He yanks me against his chest, and I catch my breath.

“W-why are you holding me?”

“Why are you letting me?”

He’s right. This is not appropriate behavior and I’m as much to blame for not pushing him away sooner. I’m supposed to be capturing him, so I can gain the attention of my superior who is a good guy. A guy who wouldn’t hurt me, wouldn’t leave me, wouldn’t lie to me.

I place both hands on Liam’s chest to push him away, but they falter.

He swallows, tightening his body beneath my touch.

No.

I shove him away.

He steps back, ripping off the tie as he goes. His eyes land on me, something shifting in his expression. There’s no teasing in his eyes right now. There’s something much more dangerous. Want. I’ve been trying to deny it, but it’s written all over the rigid set of his jaw and darkening eyes.

“You put every beauty on this earth to shame, Serena Cruz. There’s never been a more remarkable creation than you.”

I can’t breathe again. My chest burns with the longing inside me, but it hurts even more knowing I can’t give in. The second I do, I’ll be lost to him.

Liam must sense my struggle. He pulls an obnoxious grin onto his face, covering the desire. “Tonight should be fun.”

“I’d prefer it wasn’t.” My weak legs practically stumble to the couch. I try to put on my shoes, but my dress, or rather the knife plastered to my side, isn’t allowing me to fully bend.

“Let me help.” Liam drops to his knees and steals a shoe.

“No, it’s fine.”

He looks at me. “It’s good to let people care for you, you know? ”

Care for me? Or care about me? I never knew there was a difference. But now I realize how little I’ve had of either in my life. I don’t want to settle for less than both. The argument dies on my lips as he slips the shoe onto my foot. His finger trails over the arch of my foot as he works his hand to the strap around my ankle.

I’m aware of every tiny, insignificant touch like he’s drawing on my skin with a sparkler. When he’s finished with one foot, he goes to the next, and this one takes even longer. How complicated can it be? His hand slips up my calf, and I jump. “Okay. Thank you. It’s on there. Right foot and everything. Now let’s get you dressed.” I snatch his shirt from the couch and toss it at him before going to the kitchen. I need a drink.

Two minutes later, Liam comes into the kitchen fully clothed with a tie that perfectly matches my dress. When did he get that? He picks up the small satchel containing the jewelry box and places it over his shoulder. “Ready?”

Not in a million years. “Yep.”