Take It On The Run

Chapter 47

POV: Sloan

The cool silk of the sleep clothes caused my skin to shiver as I padded down a tall, stone hallway reminiscent of Hogwarts. With its expert masonry and gargantuan panes of stained glass, the corridor felt more like a prestigious university or elite boarding school than someone's dwellings.

Judging by the natural light here, it was probably late evening, nearly dusk. Without a watch, I had no idea what time it actually was, though. In fact, ever since I'd been drugged and thrown onto that private jet, I'd begun to lose all sense of the days, listlessness taking root after a lifetime of hustling and tending bar to survive. 

Dying rays of sun cast rainbows onto the ancient floors and ornamental rugs, the wall opposite the windows lined with priceless oil paintings and portraits.

The ostentatious architecture and artwork made me wonder about Liam's background. I got the distinct impression that he hadn't been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Old money wasn't usually so flashy about their wealth or as ambitious in their career paths as my fiancé. It made me think he'd clawed his way out of poverty.

Maybe The Collectors had provided an opportunity to ditch a life of petty crime on the streets of Dublin. Maybe he'd joined to support a single mother or an alcoholic father or maybe he'd just done it out of pure greed.

Not sure why my mind was suddenly so interested in humanizing him. I supposed it was because it would help with the lie I needed to believe—that I could fall for a man like Liam Murphy, that somewhere deep within that chiseled chest was a soft heart.

But was it really even a lie?

Had Liam Murphy gotten to me before the guys, I could've easily embraced him as my lover and caretaker. He was objectively handsome—not just handsome but hot. Then there was the power, wealth, charm, sexual prowess, and singular drive to win me over.

I thought about all the walls I'd erected between us prior to my arrival, about how I'd used my father's disparaging reports and my mother's death for the brick and mortar of that impenetrable fortress. Yet Liam Murphy was willing to talk through this with me until he dismantled that barrier brick by brick.

What would happen if I took a sledgehammer to it?

Sex and love weren't the only things he was offering me. He was offering me a piece of the pie, a chance to take my rightful place at the helm of The Collectors with him, a future where my enemies finally ran from me.

When I reached his rooms, the double doors were already open, revealing a vast antechamber, which I quickly crossed to a second set of doors before I could lose my nerve.

Despite the Colin-gram, I knocked out of politeness, my heart hammering against my chest. I was really doing this, and there was no going back now.

A moment later, the doors swung inward, and Liam Murphy stood damp and shirtless before me. He wore nothing more than a pair of semi-revealing lounge pants, his auburn hair still dripping from his shower—the shower in which he'd climaxed to the memory of me in the limo...and oh my god, get a grip, bitch.

"I see you got the memo about casual Friday," I said drolly.

He snorted. "When you didn't like the wardrobe I provided, I took it personally."

"I didn't say I didn't like it. Just that I wanted some pants."

"I know, but I thought you'd feel more at home without the frill."

I had to admit, he looked damn good—and authoritative—in a suit. He probably felt vulnerable now without it, and I appreciated the effort he was making for me. Even if I'd already masterminded his untimely demise.