Liam drops his head. "I think our anonymity just went out the window."
The women hand over our drinks, and by the time we've walked to the other side of the square, there's a steady murmur of, "O garanhão," as we pass.
When we've polished off our drinks, we stop at the front of an upmarket hotel and ditch our empty cups into a trash can. Liam looks around warily. I think he's as surprised as I am we're not being mobbed. Most fans go berserk when they realize who he is. Seems like the Brazilians are content to point and whisper about him from afar.
"I knew being anonymous was too good to last," he says, putting on his sunglasses. "Still, it could be worse."
I look inside the window of the hotel to check out the decor, but it's the reading material on a stand in the lobby bar that catches my eye.
It just got worse.
"Uh ... Liam ..."
"Maybe we should head back," he says. "If the mood changes, we could be in trouble. I feel too exposed here."
He's not wrong about that. "Liam—"
"What does o garanhão mean, anyway?"
I take his hand and pull him over to the window. "It means the stallion."
He frowns. "Really? That's weird."
"Not when you see what I'm seeing."
I point to the magazine rack where there are various newspapers and magazines in both English and Portuguese, and every single one has a picture of Liam on the front cover, naked. And hard. His erection has been covered by a black rectangle, but the size of it explains why all the headlines are screaming about O garanhão.
As soon as Liam registers what he's seeing, he goes whiter than he did over the pee tube. "Ohhhh, shit."
TEN
Not-So-Silent Night
"Goddammit." Liam's face goes from white to red as he stands in the lobby bar and flicks through the pictures in one of the magazines. As angry as he is about seeing himself naked, he's absolutely furious they've also printed pictures of me.
I'm not thrilled about that part, either.
"How the hell did someone get these?" he asks, flipping the pages hard enough to tear them. "No one knew where we were. I kept it a secret for that very reason."
"I hate to say it, but could Luis and Alba have—?"
"No." He shakes his head. "No way. Their references were impeccable. There must have been someone else on the island. A fucking bottom-feeding pap who somehow sniffed us out."
I sink onto the couch beside us, shocked and shattered. I didn't think it could get much worse than when we were photographed kissing in the alley when Liam was still pretending to be engaged to Angel. But wow, was I wrong.
Back then, I was the anonymous other woman. Now, my identity is crystal clear.
Not only are there naked pictures of me, there are several of me fellating my well-hung fiancée. They're from an angle that blocks the details of what I'm doing, but anyone with a brain can work out what's going on. They must have been taken the day we were at the lake.
"I saw him," I say, feeling so drained my voice has zero emotion.
Liam sits beside me. "Who? The pap?"
I nod. "Remember when I mentioned seeing someone near the altar? I bet that was him."
"Goddamn fucking parasitic asshole." He crushes the magazine into a ball and throws it into the trash. "Stay here, okay? I have to make some calls."
He stalks over to the other side of the lobby and pulls out his phone.
I'm so preoccupied, I don't even notice the waitress standing beside me until she says, "Something to drink, senhorita?"
I nearly kiss her in gratitude. "God, yes, please."
By the time Liam returns, I'm halfway through a bottle of red wine. He grabs the glass I've filled for him and drains it in three gulps.
"Well, Stacey's on the case. She's going to get as many injunctions as she can, but there's not much we can do. This thing has so much traction, nothing's going to stop these pictures from being plastered all over the internet."
After the whole Anthony Kent debacle, Liam and Angel signed with one of Hollywood's most respected agents, Stacey Savage. She's smart, tough, and has connections everywhere, so if she can't kill the pictures, no one can.
When I refill Liam's glass, he guzzles that one, too. He looks wired.
"I wanted to take you on this trip to avoid crap like this," he says. "Not to drop you in the middle of it with me."
"My parents are going to see those photos," I say, staring at a stain on the carpet. "They'll be so proud."
Liam swears under his breath and rakes his fingers through his hair. "If I ever get my hands on the bastard who did this ..." He's gripping his wine glass so tightly, I'm afraid he'll break it. I pry his fingers loose and put it on the table.
Liam rubs his eyes. "Let's get out of here. We might not be able to outrun this story, but we can sure as hell ignore it. I've organized a security team to sweep the island before we get back. If the bastard who took those photos is still there, they'll find him."
He grabs our shopping bags as I finish my last mouthful of wine and leads me out of the hotel into a cab. Even as we drive away, I can still hear people calling out, "O garanhão."
We've only been driving for a few minutes when my phone rings. I know without looking that it's Josh.
"Hey."
"Jesus, Lissa, are you and Liam okay? I can't go on the internet or turn on the TV without seeing way more of your two that I'm comfortable with."
I rub my temple. A headache is brewing behind my left eye. "We're fine."
"Well, yeah, that's obvious from the photos. Dayum, girl. Fine as hell!" When I groan, Josh says, "Too soon?"
"Way too soon."
"Sorry. But seriously, do you need anything? Alcohol? Valium? A heat-seeking pap missile?"
"God, yes to that last one." I glance at Liam who's staring stony-faced out the window. "I just hope the police find the guy before Liam does, or he could be up on some major grievous bodily harm charges."
"I tried to call your parents to warn them about what's going on."
"Did you get onto them?"
"Yeah, but I was too late. By the time I spoke with them, they'd been drinking heavily for over an hour."
"Shit." I lean my head back against the seat. "This just keeps getting better and better. I guess Dad will have no choice now but accept that his little girl is no longer a virgin and that Liam and I are more than just good friends."
I feel sick.
Josh tries to make me feel better by telling me that people are saying nice things about my ass, but it doesn't help. When we arrive at the marina I sign off and tell him I'll call him in a few days. Liam has gone quiet, and that's never a good sign.
After paying the cabbie, we head down to where the Elissa May is docked. Liam's in the middle of casting off when he stops dead and stares at the boat.
"What is it?"
He holds up his finger, and I follow his gaze to the cabin windows.
"The lights are on," he whispers. "I turned them all off before we left. That slimy asshole's on my fucking boat." He drops the rope and strides up the gang plank, fists clenched at his side. I follow, and hope like hell I can stop him from killing the guy.
As soon as we climb down the stairs, we hear banging around, as if whoever's there has just realized they've been busted. Liam storms into the master suite and grabs a man dressed in black by his throat before slamming him against the wall so hard, the floor vibrates. Liam's shoulder blocks the man's face from my view, so all I see is a mess of brown hair.
"Wait," the man yells, fear bright in his voice. "Please. Don't hurt me."
Liam slams him into the wall again. "Hurt you?! You're lucky I don't break your goddamn legs for what you've done." Liam grabs something from the man, and I jump as an expensive looking camera smashes to pieces as it hits the tiled floor. "Try to take your photos now, you piece of shit!"
"Liam—" I grab his arm to try and calm him down, but when I get close enough to see the pap clearly, I real
ize I recognize his face.
"Oh, shit. Scott?"
Liam's snaps his head around. "You know this guy?"
I'm so shocked, I can barely nod. "I ran into him at JFK. Literally. Knocked him over."
Liam turns to glare at Scott's terrified face. "You'd better explain yourself right the fuck now, or I'm going to take you out into the middle of the ocean and leave you for the sharks."
"Alright, alright," Scott says, holding up his hands defensively. "Just calm down, man, okay?"
God, does he have a death wish? Doesn't he know never to tell an enraged Liam to calm down?
Liam slams him into the wall again. "Talk!"
"Okay!" Scott's so scared by now, he's trembling. "My sister works at La Perla on Fifth Avenue. Elissa was in there last week, and she bragged about how she was going on vacation with you. My sister knew I was having a dry spell and needed to land some major pictures, so she passed the information along to me."
My stomach drops. With that information, I can see the similarities between him and Chastity.
I swallow my nausea. "How did you find me?"
"It wasn't hard. Everyone knows where Quinn's penthouse is. I staked it out until I saw you getting into a limo, followed you, watched you check in at the airport, and bought a ticket on the same flight." He looks between us. "Paps these days have more skills than most private investigators. Tracking people down is what we do."
"So," I say, trying to keep a lid on my anger, "you waited for me to come out of the first class club and then, what? Made sure I ran into you?"
He shrugged. "Basically. I hoped you had more information about your destination so I could do some planning, but Quinn was clever about keeping you in the dark."
Liam grabs Scott's shirt and talks through clenched teeth. "You stalked my fiancée? Are you fucking serious right now?"
"How did you find the island?" I ask. "There's no way you tailed our helicopter."
Scott glances at Liam briefly before coming back to me. "I followed your car to the private airfield, and after you took off I paid the clerk to get me a copy of the flight plan. Then I hired a boat to take me to the island."
Liam pushes Scott away in disgust. "I bet you're patting yourself on the back about this whole thing, aren't you? Smug as hell you're making big bucks from invading our privacy." Liam pulls out his phone. "Well, have fun spending that money in jail."
Scott's face crumbles. "Now, hang on. Let's not be hasty. Surely we can work something out?" When Liam ignores him and jabs some numbers, Scott grabs his arms. "Come on, man. Please! Tell me what to do to make this go away."
Liam shoves him in the chest so hard, Scott almost falls over.
"All right, you son-of-a-bitch," Liam says, his voice huge in the confined space. "Here's my deal. If you can you recall every one of those photos so no one will see them again, you're free to leave. Can you do that?" Scott's eyes dart back and forth as he tries to come up with an answer. When he can't, Liam scowls at him. "Didn't think so."
As Liam goes back to his phone, Scott's expression turns hard. "Okay, fine. You wanna play hardball? Let's go. Call the cops, and I'll charge you with assault."
Liam lets out a short laugh. "You think what I've just done to you is assault? Wrong." Fast as lightning, he punches Scott square in the face. Scott's nose explodes with blood. "That's assault. Go ahead and file a complaint."
Scott grunts as he clutches his nose and tries to stop the bleeding. "Jesus Christ! You're a maniac!"
"No," Liam says, his voice dark and intense. "I'm a man who caught a criminal burgling his yacht. The same criminal who trespassed on private property, so he could stalk innocent people. The authorities will not only throw your assault charges out of court, they'll give me a medal for smacking you in the mouth. Now, sit down and shut the fuck up, or I'll forget why I only hit you once."
Scott sits heavily on the bed and holds his T-shirt up to block his nose. When Liam turns away to talk on the phone, Scott look at me imploringly. "Elissa, please. Don't let him do this."
I walk over to him. "Don't you dare put this on him. You did this to yourself. You stalked us like animals and sold naked photos of us in our most intimate moments. You're scum. If you don't want to pay for your actions, then make better goddamn choices."
When I turn away, he stands and grabs my arm. "Elissa—"
I guess he didn't learn his lesson the first time. In a second, I simultaneously spin and drop to one knee as I punch him as hard I can in the crotch. He freezes, his face red with pain, before making a pained gurgling noise and crumbling to the floor.
Liam turns around and looks at me questioningly. I shrug. "Like you're the only one who gets to punch the bad guy?"
"I have no problem with you punching him. I'm just surprised you were actually listening in my self-defense classes. Good job."
Liam's praise makes me feel less sick about our situation, but I'm still furious that we've been put in this position.
At least Scott has the good sense to stay still and quiet until the police arrive.
ELEVEN
We Wish You a Merry Sexmas
By the time we get home after filling out the police report, it's nearly two in the morning. Liam's quiet as we walk up from the dock to the house, and when we get into the bedroom, he sits on the edge of the bed and stares at the floor, looking shattered.
When I stand in front of him, he wraps his arms around me and rests his forehead on my stomach.
"You hungry?" I ask.
"No."
"Thirsty."
"I'm fine, Liss."
"I don't think you are."
He stays silent and hugs me. I hug him back. I never fully understood his paranoia about people following him before, but I sure as hell get it now. When the pictures came out of us kissing in New York, I felt stupid, because we’d let our guards down in a public place. But this? You can't get more secluded than an uninhabited island off the coast of a foreign country. This is a place where we should be able to feel safe and open. Instead, I feel violated. Vulnerable. More shaken than I'm letting on.
Scott took a beautiful, private moment between us and turned it into filthy tabloid fodder. There's no way someone could ever get used to that type of abuse, and poor Liam has been dealing with it for years. How is it legal that lowlifes like Scott can get away with this behavior? Worse still, how are they allowed to profit from other people's suffering?
Liam gives me a squeeze then pushes me back so he can stand. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
After he walks into the bathroom and closes the door, I sink onto the edge of the bed and drop my head into my hands.
How could I have been so stupid? If I hadn't been such an insecure idiot, I wouldn't have felt the need to brag about Liam to those girls in La Perla, and Scott wouldn't have found out we were together. I'm the one who practically led him to us.
Guilt squirms in my stomach. As angry as I am with Scott, I'm furious with myself. Liam has enough people intent on manipulating and exploiting him. He doesn't need me helping them.
I flop back onto the bed and close my eyes. Christ, what a mess.
Listening to the ocean should be soothing, but even it sounds angry with me. When Liam hasn't emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, I figure he is, too.
I suck up my courage and knock on the door. There's the sound of running water. "Hey. Everything alright?"
"Yeah. You can come in."
When I open the door, I find him shirtless in front of the sink. Chunks of long hair lie strewn all over the floor, and his head looks like it's been run over by a lawn mower. What's more, his face is practically bald. He tilts his head up and scrapes the razor over the few remaining whiskers on his neck.
"I figured looking like my old self might be a handy disguise now that those pictures are out." He sighs. "I decided to torture myself and checked the damage from my phone. Did you know there are already memes of us? And some asshole has opened a twitter account called
The Stallion, where he pretends my penis is tweeting. What the hell is wrong with people?" He finishes shaving before running his hand over his face and neck. When he's satisfied he didn't miss a patch, he washes his face and pats it dry with a towel.
"Liam?"
"Hmmm?"
"You cut your own hair?"
He rubs his hand over the uneven mess on his head. "Had to. I couldn't stand it a second longer. Did I do a good job?"
"Not at all."
He hands me the scissors. "Then by all means, Vidal Sassoon, fix it."
When he sits on the closed toilet seat, I stand between his legs and assess the damage. Can I fix it? I at least have to try. I've never given a haircut before, but I've watched enough of them to fake it pretty well. I even up the sides and back before tackling the top. By the time I'm done, it's not perfect, but I've definitely made it better.
Pity I can't say the same about our situation.
Liam just keeps staring at the floor, hands clasped together. It's weird seeing him clean cut again. It's even weirder that he's so quiet.
"Liam?"
He looks up at me as if he was deep in thought and had forgotten I was there. "Yeah?"
"I'm so sorry."
He shrugs. "I'm sure you did your best. Don't worry. It's only hair, right? It'll grow back."
"No, not about the hair. About this whole mess. I should have just kept my mouth shut. "
"Jesus Christ, Liss." He jumps up and brushes chunks of hair off his shoulders in quick, angry movements. "This isn't your fault."
He throws the towel on the ground and strides into the bedroom. I take a breath and follow. "Yes, it is. If I hadn't lost it with those girls in La Perla, none of this would have happened. I just got so damn angry about how they were looking down on me. They didn't believe there was any way you and I could be—"
He spins to face me, and his expression is hard. "Elissa, stop it. Don't you dare try to take the blame for this. It's on me. All of it. I knew it would happen, but I was too fucking selfish to save you from it. I should be the one apologizing, not you."