Cecilia all but fled back to her apartment. Ronald had been like a predator today--silent, intense, calculated.
Every step he took toward her had radiated danger, and she hadn't dared let her guard down.
Meanwhile, Liam sat in his car, staring blankly out the windshield. Ever since his last meeting ended, he hadn't been thinking straight.
Somehow, as if bewitched, he found himself cruising along the elevated expressway.
By the time he came to, the car had already pulled up outside a modest apartment building.
He looked up at the worn brick exterior, frowned, and then got out.
Just as Cecilia stepped off the elevator, she froze.
"You--what are you doing here?" she blurted out, taking an instinctive step back.
Her throat tightened, and a hiccup escaped her lips.
Damn it.
"I think I left something here," Liam said calmly as he stepped closer. His gaze dropped--he couldn't help it--to her waist.
She'd been walking a little oddly.
Was she...injured last night?
Cecilia noticed where he was looking and quickly turned sideways, hiding behind the edge of the car like a startled rabbit.
She forced a brittle smile. "Nice car."
Then her stomach dropped.
The vanity plate glared back at her, LUXCM.
Luxury and Cecilia Martin. Even the damn bird poop on the rear windshield was still there.
Kill me now.
Liam's eyebrow arched like a guillotine blade. "It is a nice car. Though I'd think you'd recognize your own."
"I--" She cleared her throat, "--may have assumed the police impounded it after I...abandoned it."
"Tsk." He ran a hand along the hood. "What kind of husband would let his wife's assets disappear?"
The word husband wrapped around her like cigar smoke--thick, suffocating, expensive. She willed her traitorous blush away.
"Don't pretend. There's no audience here."
"Darling," he murmured, closing the distance, "the world's always watching." His gaze dipped to her scraped knee. "Though I'm more concerned about this...my dear wife, you seem to be hurt."
Cecilia's cheeks went from pink to pale in a second.
Her gaze darted away. "I tripped...on my way out earlier."
"Your ankle?"
She gave a dry little laugh. If only it were that simple.
It wasn't even a fall--it was that bastard from last night who had manhandled her until she bruised.
Shaking her head, she met his gaze--then froze.
"You..."
Then--
Liam watched her hand rise, those slender fingers brushing his cheek with featherlight precision. They trailed downward, tracing the line of his jaw, the column of his throat--
And impossible--the man who could face an avalanche without blinking--flushed.
Her hand finally rested on his neck, where her touch left a faint warmth behind.
Liam swallowed hard and forced himself to meet her eyes. There was something new in her gaze--a softness, a weight, a glimmer of emotion that hadn't been there before.
Could it be?
Yes, she definitely had feelings for him.
Liam was confident.
Among whole family, he was undoubtedly the most charismatic--refined, commanding, magnetic in a way that demanded attention.
He wasn't surprised she'd finally caved.
That had to mean she remembered last night.
Accepted it, even.
They stared at each other without looking away. Then Cecilia tilted her head and said, completely serious,
"This is a hickey, right?"
"..."
Liam's hand shot up to his neck, startled.
Right--last night had gotten a little out of hand.
He'd leaned into it, into the passion, the connection.
Only to have her clamp down with those sharp little teeth like a damn lioness.
They had fallen together, lost in the same desperate rhythm--and risen together, too, in that shattering climax.
And now--
She was staring at that very mark, utterly composed. Her eyes held nothing but accusation--and barely concealed disgust.
"Even if this marriage is a farce, I still represent MT's public image." Her voice could have frozen hell over. "So I suggest you avoid any...indiscreet scandals, sir."
Liam stared at her, speechless.
"Last night you--"
He didn't get to finish.
The moment she heard those two words, Cecilia panicked. She shoved him hard and took several stumbling steps back.
"Wh-what? I was home last night, BY MYSELF, ALL NIGHT!"
And just like that, she turned and ran.
Liam stood there, unmoving, watching her retreating figure.
She was walking fast--too fast--and limping slightly.
It was so quiet, Liam could hear the ticking of the car engine.
Then, with a sudden burst of fury, he slammed his fist into the side of the car.
CRACK.
His fist dented the car door, the sound echoing through the empty street.
The reflection in the window stared back at him--tight jaw, flared nostrils, eyes burning with storm clouds.
"She forgot?" His voice was a sawtooth edge. "Every. Damn. Second."
Was it the liquor? Or had she deliberately erased him from her memory like a bad transaction?
None of that mattered now.
In his world, there were no excuses--only consequences.
"Fine." He adjusted his cuffs with a violent snap. "Let's recreate the experience. I'll make sure this one sticks."
***
Inside the apartment, Cecilia peered through the blinds, her pulse hammering as the luxury sedan finally slid away from the curb.
A shaky breath escaped her.
Why did this feel like...she was the guilty one?
No. Absolutely not.
He was the one caught with a hickey--by his own wife, in name, at least.
If anyone should be burning with shame, it was him!