Liam
She looks different in daylight. Softer, somehow, though the softness is deceptive. Beneath it, I can feel the same fire that made her walk onto that stage and dare the world to buy her.
Steam curls around her as she steps out of the shower. I grab a robe from the hook and hold it out. “Here,” I say. “I’ll get some clothes delivered up to the room.”
She smiles, small and tired, taking it from me. The fabric dwarfs her, slipping off one shoulder, and I have to look away before I forget how to breathe.
The television flickers on at my command, filling the suite with the sterile brightness of the morning news. A woman’s voice cuts through the quiet.
“Breaking story. An international warrant has been issued for Grace Casey, former political consultant, in connection with last week’s arms-deal leak…”
Her face flashes on the screen. My pulse spikes.
They used her old photo, the one from before. Dark hair. Controlled smile. Perfect mask. The person on that screen doesn’t exist anymore. The woman standing beside me, wrapped in a huge hotel robe, belongs to me now, whether she knows it or not.
I cross the room and pick up my phone, already scrolling through contacts. My voice stays level, but my hand is tight enough on the device that the casing creaks.
“Get me Aslan,” I say when the line clicks. “Now.”
Grace’s reflection wavers in the glass wall as she ties the robe tighter. She doesn’t speak. Maybe she knows better than to interrupt. Maybe she’s afraid of what she’ll hear.
“Pull the arrest warrant,” I tell Aslan. “Every copy, every database. If it’s already hit Interpol, you’ll clean it there too. No trace. I want her name off every list by lunchtime.”
He starts to argue. Something about jurisdiction, procedure. I cut him off. “You don’t understand. This isn’t business. This is personal.”
The words hang in the air long after I end the call.
Grace moves closer, her wet hair dripping onto the floor. “What did you just do?”
“I fixed it.”
“You can’t just erase a federal warrant, Liam.”
“I can,” I say quietly. “And I will.”
She shakes her head, incredulous. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.” My gaze locks on hers. “I know that you were framed. I know that the men who did it will keep coming until you’re buried or forgotten. And I know that won’t happen while you’re under my protection. But there are things I can do to make it all a whole lot easier.”
Her lips part, ready to argue, but I take a step closer. Then another. Until she has to tilt her chin up to meet my eyes.
“This isn’t about your deal anymore,” I tell her. “It’s about ownership. You’re in my world now, and in my world, what’s mine doesn’t get touched. Doesn’t get taken.”
Her breath catches, a soft, defiant sound. “You don’t own me, Liam.”
My mouth curves, slow and dangerous. “You keep saying that like it makes it true.”
For a moment, neither of us moves. The TV drones in the background, her name still echoing through the static. My restraint frays with every repetition of it. The thought of anyone else speaking her name, thinking they have a claim to her, burns through me like acid.
I turn the TV off with a sharp flick of my wrist. The silence that follows is heavy, electric.
“Do you have clothes in your room?” I ask and she nods her head once. “I’ll have them brought here by someone I trust.”
I dip my head and kiss her. I’m almost overwhelmed by how fragile she looks swallowed up in the fluffy robe.
“We need to go,” I say finally. “We’re leaving the hotel. It’s not safe here anymore.”
“Where are we going?” she asks, her eyes betraying how tired she feels. Tired of running, tired of hiding. I don’t know. But I will be the one to fix it.
“Somewhere no one will find you.”
She hesitates, then nods, the robe slipping further down her shoulder. It’s enough to test every ounce of control I have left.
I look away, forcing a breath through my teeth. Possession and protection. They’ve always been two sides of the same coin for men like me. But with her, there’s something more. Something akin to obsession.
And that scares the hell out of me.