Liam
Hartley’s name shouldn’t still be in my head. But it is. It’s there when I sit down at my desk, when I open my laptop and start issuing orders through encrypted channels, when I think about the way Grace’s hands trembled slightly as we left the hotel after the masquerade had officially ended.
That bastard’s face is plastered across half the country’s news cycles, righteous and untouchable. But not for long.
I start with what I know. The offshore accounts Kozlov mentioned once, the shell companies buried under corporate fronts.
I pull strings, make calls, issue instructions that ripple out across jurisdictions.
Names, bank codes, transfers. Within an hour, the senator’s hidden funds are flagged, his assets frozen under “routine anti-corruption checks.”
Within the first hour, two of his associates receive polite but pointed messages reminding them of their own liabilities, the sort that ensures no one comes to his defense.
By the second hour, his career begins to bleed quietly in places he can’t see yet. A journalist I trust owes me a favor; she will receive an anonymous package in the next twenty-four hours containing documents she won’t be able to ignore. All roads will lead to him.
When I’m done, I close the laptop and lean back, letting the silence of my study stretch. The satisfaction that usually follows a takedown doesn’t come this time. There’s only a strange kind of restlessness.
Because this isn’t just business anymore.
It’s her.
I leave the study and follow the scent of coffee and cinnamon downstairs. Voices drift from the kitchen, my mother’s polite and friendly tone, Iris chattering about something inconsequential. And Grace.
Her hair is a mess of pale waves now, loose around her shoulders. She doesn’t see me right away, and I take a moment I shouldn’t, to watch the way she fits into this house so effortlessly.
Sunlight softening the sharp edges of her face, laughter threading through her voice when Iris teases her. I didn’t realize how much I wanted that sound until I hear it unguarded.
It shouldn’t matter. It does.
My mother catches sight of me first, her knowing glance flicking between us before she excuses herself. Iris follows, smirking as she disappears down the hallway, leaving us alone.
Grace looks up then, eyes bright in the morning light. “Everything alright?”
“Better than alright.” My voice comes out lower than I intend. I step closer, watching the pulse jump in her throat. “Hartley’s about to learn what it feels like to lose everything.”
She blinks. “You—what did you do?”
“Handled it.”
There’s a pause. “You mean you ruined him.”
“Semantics.”
Something flickers in her expression. Disbelief, awe, fear, maybe all three. “You really can just… do that.”
I move closer still, until I’m near enough to smell her shampoo. “When someone hurts what’s mine, I don’t hesitate.”
Her lips part. “You think I’m yours now?”
I tilt my head, studying her. “I don’t think, Grace. I know. And you do, too.”
The air between us shifts, charged again like it was last night. She doesn’t step back. I can see her trying to steady herself, her fingers tightening on the edge of the table, but her breathing gives her away.
“Your family’s very kind,” she says, voice quieter now. “They make this place feel… normal.”
“There’s nothing normal about this,” I say, stepping in and pulling her up from the chair.
Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment it feels like the rest of the world stops existing.
I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. The smallest touch, but it’s enough. She inhales sharply.
“Liam,” she whispers, and the sound of my name in her mouth is dangerous.
My hand slides to her jaw, thumb tracing the line of her lower lip. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
“I’m not,” she says.
“Good,” I murmur, leaning closer. “Because I’m not sure I could let you go now if I tried.”
The last of her breath catches as my mouth finds hers. It’s not a claiming this time; it’s a promise, slow and deliberate, the taste of danger and inevitability. She melts against me, her hands gripping my shirt, and the kiss deepens until the air itself feels too thick to breathe.
When I finally pull back, her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted. I rest my forehead against hers, eyes closed.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For fixing things.”
I almost tell her the truth, that I didn’t do it for gratitude. I did it because I couldn’t stand the thought of her being afraid.
Instead, I kiss her again, softer this time, lingering.
And when her fingers curl in my shirt and she leans into me with that small, involuntary sound that kills every shred of restraint I have left, I know exactly how this will end.
I watch her eyes flutter open after that kiss, her lips still swollen from the press of mine, and something primal surges through me.
She's right here in my kitchen, in my home, looking at me like she's caught between fear and need, and I can't hold back anymore.
My hand slides from her jaw down to her waist, pulling her flush against me so she feels every inch of how hard she makes me.
"Grace," I murmur against her ear, my voice low and rough, "you have no idea what you do to me. But you're going to find out."
Her breath hitches, and I feel her body respond, pressing closer like she can't help it. I grab her hand and lead her out of the kitchen, up the stairs, not giving a damn if anyone sees us. This house is mine, and so is she.
We make it to my rooms without a word, the door clicking shut behind us as I push her against it, my mouth crashing down on hers again. She's all heat and softness, her fingers digging into my shoulders as I devour her, tongue sweeping in to taste her sweetness.
I break the kiss just long enough to yank her sweater over her head, exposing those perfect tits that I've been thinking about since she covered them after the shower this morning.
"Fuck, look at you," I growl, cupping one in my hand and pinching the nipple until she gasps. "These are mine to play with now. Say it."
She whimpers, nodding, but that's not enough.
I lean down, sucking hard on the peaked bud, biting just enough to make her arch into me.
Her hands fumble with my belt, and I let her, stepping back only to strip off my own clothes while she does the same, her eyes wide and hungry on my cock as it springs free.
I scoop her up and carry her to the bed, tossing her down onto the sheets before crawling over her, my body pinning hers in place. She's so wet already, I can feel it when I slide my hand between her thighs, fingers dipping into her slick folds.
"You're dripping for me," I say, circling her clit with my thumb while I push two fingers inside her warm pussy.
She moans, bucking against my hand, and I pump them deeper, curling to hit that spot that makes her cry out.
"That's it, Grace, fuck my fingers like you need it.
You're so tight, like this cunt was made just for me. "
Her walls clench around me, and I know she's close, but I pull back, smirking at her frustrated whine. I line up my cock at her entrance, rubbing the head through her wetness. "You want this? Tell me, Grace. Tell me you need my cock filling you up."
“I need to feel you,” she says, her voice breathless and desperate, and it's the hottest thing I've ever heard. “I need you inside me, Liam.”
I thrust in hard, burying myself to the hilt in one stroke, groaning at how perfectly she takes me.
"That's my good girl," I rasp, starting to move, slow at first to let her adjust, then faster, pounding into her with everything I've got. Her nails rake down my back, and I love the sting, love how she meets every thrust like she owns me too.
"This pussy belongs to me now," I tell her, my hand wrapping around her wrists and pinning them above her head.
I squeeze just enough to feel her pulse race.
"No one else gets to touch you, Grace. You're mine to fuck, mine to protect, mine to keep. Say it,” I demand, sliding my other hand between us to put pressure on her clit, still fucking her hard enough that her glorious tits bounce against my chest.
“I’m yours,” she gasps between moans, and it pushes me over the edge. My balls tighten as I slam into her one last time, spilling deep inside. Her firm, fluttering walls milk every last drop from me as I watch her in awe and wonder while she comes apart around me.