Melody's POV

I said nothing, choosing one of his clean shirts to wear as he spoke with a dark-haired man at the door.
Taking a seat on his bed, I watched him carefully as two maids ran in quickly to clean up the mess we had made with the wine and food. Neither of them dared to look up. Instead, they worked as quickly as possible.
I wasn’t sure what was going on between Liam and me, but the untrusting part of my mind was telling me to put on the damn breaks. We had only known each other for three, now four days, seeing as how it was still very early in the day. Neither of us was tired, which was odd because we had done nothing but have mind-blowing sex for hours. The only time we had spoken was when we had confessed some of our darkest secrets. He put me on edge because he made me trust him. He told me the truth, and then stepped up in the one thing I knew I did not have the strength to do.
Orlando had wanted to make sure he died after my wedding because he didn’t want me to feel alone. I tried to tell him I wasn’t lonely, but he always told me the path of a Boss was a dark and lonely one. I never had friends. I never socialized with anyone other than my men and the servants at our home. I always kept myself busy learning languages, studying, and training. I never thought too much about it. Not until now. Not until Orlando, the only family I had, had died. It hit me like a tsunami. I did not have anyone. And then there was Liam.
For the first time I understood why Orlando had pushed me so hard into accepting him, because even though I didn’t trust Liam yet, the promise of future trust was there. He was now the only family I had. A fact that confused me.
I felt like I could trust him. I wanted to trust him. I wanted to be what he needed, because now I needed somebody. I never realized how much Orlando filled that role for me. Over the last four years since I had become Boss, he was the one person I vented to. The one person I used as a whiteboard for all my plans, telling him each and every step just because I needed to get it out of my head. I told him when I was stressed, when I just wanted to murder someone, and when I did murder someone. Orlando was my true right-hand, and now Liam was taking his place. Not in a creepy Liam is my daddy type way, but more like Liam was now the only person I could freely speak with.
Everyone else was under me, everyone else I didn’t respect. Orlando had been it. Now Liam was.
“You were right,” Liam replied, his voice serious as he took a seat in front of me. The maids were gone. I hated that he was in pajama bottoms. I missed staring at his ass.
“I know.” I smirked. “But about what?”
Rolling his eyes at me, he handed me the file before heading to his desk.
He grabbed his brandy and poured us both a cup. Looking over the flight transcript, I grinned.
“Amory is on his way to Austria,” I read aloud, taking the glass he offered.
“Yes, and I was thinking about using it as a cover.” He frowned, drinking slowly. I waited for him to go on, but he didn’t.
“Well?” I asked, annoyed that I had to waste words.
He eyed me carefully as though I were a child before he spoke, and it pissed me off. “Orlando didn’t want the world knowing he was sick. I was thinking of causing a fake accident and let rumor spread it was Amory.”
He stopped, and in my mind I thought it was perfect. But he misread my facial expression.
“I don’t mean to use your father’s death as a chess piece, nor do I want to—” “Liam, shut the hell up. I’m not a child whose feelings will get hurt. Yes, I care for Orlando, but he is dead. I knew it was coming for years. It sucks, but don’t treat me as if I’m glass. My father would have loved to be used to screw the Valero. So let’s do what we do best—a game of chess.”
I was not going to be seen as emotional because my daddy was dead.
Nor would I let Liam forget who I was, even though our relationship was changing. I was still a fucking Boss, and I still had work to do.
He raised an eyebrow to at me before leaning back and smirking. “Glass you are not, wife. Very well. We will allow Amory to think he killed Orlando. The bastard will be so full of himself he’ll take bigger risks, thinking he took out the great Iron Hands. When he goes to Morocco in the next couple of weeks, we will go to Italy and burn down some cars.”
“Vance will be forced to react and bark orders at Amory, who will tell Ryan, and when we know, we will keep bleeding him dry,” I replied.
“Death by a thousand cuts.”
“And then cut off his head,” I said, raising my glass before knocking it back.
He handed me another file, this one full of pictures of all his men.
The first was of a hazel-eyed, dark-haired man in his early thirties.
“Patrick Darragh, is like my malware. He can make sure nothing that we don’t want in the press gets in the press, and he can also get anything on air in seconds.”
“The next is Dylan Cormac,” he said as I looked at the green-eyed man.
“He is my weapons expert. If you want it, he can get it, no matter what it is.”
I filed through all the photos quickly. “You fucking Irish breed like rabbits.”
“Speaking of, how many kids do you want?”
I glared at him, not sure if I should shoot him or not. “You will find out when I’m okay with the idea of being barefoot and pregnant.”
“Why do I have a feeling that that isn’t a measurable amount of time?”
“How about we get to know each other, and in a few years, we can discuss this topic again,” I said, and he grinned, the fucker. I knew he just couldn’t wait until I was round and fat, unable to drink, and stuck in bed while he fucked over the world. Hell to the fucking no to that.
“Was that Rule Four?”
“I guess so.”