Page 84 of Desperate Measures

“Oh, Sweetheart. Look at you,” Liam murmured.

My husband’s emerald stare met mine for the first time in days. He seemed to drink me in, his gaze roaming over me possessively from head to foot, and I felt it all the way to my toes.

What the heck is going on?

“Doshen’ka,” Dad greeted me.

I took a fortifying breath and nodded, grateful for the love I saw in his familiar obsidian gaze. My father was a lot of things, but he had my back. Always. And I should have remembered that.

“Dad, um, everyone? Would you mind clearing the room so I could have a moment with Liam?”

Murmurs of agreement sounded, and more than one uncle patted my arm, kissed my cheek or winked at me before they filed out to the adjoining bar room to pour tumblers of Whiskey Neat and share old stories, I was sure.

“Liam,” I said, bringing my husband’s gaze back up to meet mine from where he was staring at my body.

He looked at me expectantly, eyebrows raised, and I took another breath, using the time to memorize his features.

“I want a divorce.”

Chapter 32-Liam

Holy. Fuck.

I’d married a beautiful woman. There was no mincing words when it came to describing what I thought of my wife’s appearance.

She was gorgeous. The epitome of womanhood. Every curve and jiggle, every rise and dip, each slope and crevice were just fucking sublime.

My heart ached, the need to go to her was so powerful I had to clench my fists to stop me from making a move in front of her family.

I knew all those fucks. They would have had me by the throat if I accosted her the way I wanted to.

Worth it.

I was still considering it when she asked for the room, and gentlemen that they were, they allowed it.

My throat was dry. My hands were sweating.

I had so much to make up for. So much to say—but she said my name, and I waited, hoping to hear those three words again. But I didn’t.

This time, I got four words. And they were the last fucking things I wanted to hear from my wife.

“I want a divorce.”

“What? No!” I barked, appalled at the idea. “Absolutely fucking not!”

“You’re being unreasonable,” she said, heaving out a rough sigh.

“I’m being unreasonable? Where is this even coming from?” I asked, sputtering and feeling completely blindsided.

“Liam, look, the partnership agreement I signed had stipulations for divorce. But I am willing to forego all shares of ODI, just let’s end this now, okay? Before it goes any farther,” she said, looking for all the world like an ice queen in that ivory gown with that winter wonderland backdrop behind her.

“You think I care about the company?”

“I know you do. And look, you never made me any promises, but I know now that you made them elsewhere and I am sorry if I interfered with that?—”

“What are you talking about?” I asked again.

Something was very fucking wrong here.