Chapter 11
Roxy
We’re finally at the threshold of the boardroom when Graham pats my hand.
“Thank you for indulging me, my dear. Why don’t you wait here while the men talk?”
The air leaves my lungs, and suddenly, I’m the little girl always left behind when my father did God knows what with my brothers.
That same girl grew up into a woman who doesn’t let the Merged partners bully her. But no matter how much progress I make, there will always be someone like Graham who is lost in the past century. There will always be a man who will assume I am less.
Before I can decide how to respond, I feel more than see Liam drawing his arm back.
Jesus. I step closer, putting my hand on his shoulder. His muscles are hard as steel, wired with rage.
But the contact gives him pause.
Thank fucking God.
Graham looks at us, confused. I don’t think he noticed Liam’s hostility. He probably wonders why I’m not yet in my corner. What the reason for the stalemate is.
Hot anger and poisonous disappointment spread through me as I suppress a nasty retort that is already born on my lips. Frustrated tears build behind my eyes.
I must stay away from the meeting. I can’t jeopardize it by giving Graham a piece of my mind.
I need to put my head down and wait outside. The success of the meeting is more important.
Fuck.
“Ms. Moretti is leading the presentation.” Liam’s stern tone cuts through the air. “I guarantee you’ll want to listen to her.”
Graham’s eyes jerk up. He stares at Liam for what feels like an eternity, before he nods curtly and enters the office.
Liam steps to the side to let me pass, and when I hesitate, he gives me a don’t-you-dare look, his jaw so rigid we might need to find a dentist after this meeting.
He stood up for me. He didn’t have to. But having someone at my back is… welcome. And confusing.
We’re after the same thing. And yet, while I try to outshine him, he’s helping me. Why?
I need to look more closely into Liam Stone when we get back home. Something doesn’t add up.
Something about him is more dangerous than my unfortunate reactions to his masculine energy.
He was right in the car. I’m fucking attracted to him. But he was also wrong. No way will I act on it.
Graham is muttering something when I enter the room. Both of his sons are barely hiding their smiles. Maybe not an entirely hostile crowd after all.
The tour, the tasting, and the hospitality were just a trial. A careful assessment of the enemy. That much was clear.
I still allowed that to lull me into believing this would be easy. I was wrong. That pisses me off more than Graham’s dismissal. A wrong assessment right at the beginning. What else did I miss?
I’m rattled as I try to connect the tablet to the projector in the middle of the table. The three sets of eyes watch me as I fail to plug the cable into the right jack. Shit.
A firm hand gently takes the cord from my hand and slides it into the right place.
“You’ve got this,” Liam whispers, his warmth spreading through me, steadying me.
You’ve got this.
You’re brilliant.
I guarantee you’ll want to listen to her.
He was about to punch Graham, which would have been a disaster. And yet I’m grateful for the gesture.
I don’t quite know what to do with his support. Or with his praise.
Scrutinized by a trio of businessmen who don’t really want to sell their business to our client, I push my mangled thoughts to the side.
Liam, with quiet confidence, sets up our presentation. Then he fills a glass of water and hands it to me.
“Show them,” he mouths.
And I do… I dive into the presentation we hastily updated on the way here. I stumble through the first two slides like a nervous student standing in front of a class for the first time.
Every time I look at Liam, though, his silent support is evident, infusing confidence into my words.
I don’t need him to fight my battles, but I don’t feel so lonely in fighting them with him by my side.
The younger Millers ask good questions, but we anticipated most of them. Liam lets me answer, only occasionally chiming in.
“They will destroy what my father built here,” Graham protests, ignoring me, his accusation aimed at Liam.
Liam looks at me as if he needed my permission to speak, or perhaps to remind the old man who is in charge.
I open my mouth to answer, but I realize getting this deal is more important than trying to penetrate the outdated views of the owner. I nod to let Liam know he should answer.
He frowns, cocking his head like he wants to make sure I mean it. Or he wants to fight me about it. Like with my attire for this meeting. Or my hesitation when entering the meeting.
I raise my eyebrows, and he finally turns to Graham and lays out arguments that shut the founder up.
When we’re finally done I have to pace myself, because all my instincts are pushing me to run away from there so I can finally breathe.
Graham shakes Liam’s hand, his previous warmth gone. I expect him to skip me, but he does take my hand, and I brace for another patronizing pat.
Instead, he gives me a firm shake. “We’ll be in touch.” He turns and leaves.
“You’re a good team,” the older son says as he walks us out.
We are a good team.
The adrenaline claws at my ribs, buzzing under my skin like someone wired me to a generator.
My cheeks actually ache. But I can’t stop grinning. I didn’t just survive that presentation. I conquered it.
I cut through their bullshit, stood my ground, and forced a room full of men to take me seriously.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I didn’t just play the game. I owned the board.
And maybe that’s why everything feels so hot and bright and too big for my body as we walk across the lot toward the car.
The cool afternoon air bites my cheeks, but I barely feel it. I’m vibrating. I’m proud. I’m so alive.
“Slow down, Thunder,” Liam murmurs behind me.
Oh, that voice. Too calm for what we just did. Too controlled. I spin toward him without meaning to, the gravel crunching beneath my heels.
He’s watching me with that unreadable, unblinking stare—like he’s trying to take something apart in his head. Or keep something in.
I’m not going to let him spoil this for me. I meet his stare with a smile and continue toward the car.
The driver jumps out, but Liam stops him and opens the door for me.
The gesture is old-fashioned and annoyingly gentlemanly. I don’t fight it. I can open my own door.
But something shifted in me during that meeting. Or perhaps it was a gradual process over the past few weeks.
Sometimes, a dominant gesture is a sign of trust. Not every man needs to assert their masculinity by degrading you. Some of them just want to show you their respect. And that’s okay.
I slide in, chest still rising too fast. The door shuts with a thud.
Liam rounds the hood and gets in on his side. The confines of the car feel suddenly tiny.
Too warm. Too close. Too full of the impossible energy ricocheting around my rib cage.
I just won a battle, and now I need to be confined in a small space like this? When all I feel is the need to fly?
The engine rumbles to life.
“You were fucking fantastic in there.” Liam’s voice comes low, rougher than usual, scraping down my spine.
Something in me snaps. It doesn’t break. It snaps. Like a trigger being pulled. Like gravity finally letting go. Exhilaration slams into desire with whiplash force.
His praise hits the softest part of me—the part I never let anyone touch—and sets it on fire.
One second, I’m breathing. The next, I’m moving. I don’t think. I don’t plan.
I launch across the seat, fisting the front of his suit like it’s the only thing anchoring me to the earth.
His eyes flare with shock, heat, something darker, and then my mouth is on his.
A collision.
A release.
A goddamn eruption.
There is nothing soft about the kiss. Fueled by the pent-up energy, it’s not gentle. It’s all teeth and hunger.
His hand comes up, cupping my jaw, thumb grazing the hinge. His touch is almost painful, gripping me like he’s making sure I don’t bolt.
I won’t. Not today. Today, I want to be reckless.
His other hand snakes around my waist. Dragging me closer until there’s no space left, he hoists me over. My skirt rides up as I straddle his thigh, never disconnecting our lips. Just taking.
I gasp against his mouth, and he takes the sound like it belongs to him, swallowing it, deepening the kiss.
It’s messy and frantic, and hot enough to short-circuit my thoughts.
All the tension.
All the competition.
All the almosts.
They explode between us like a fuse finally bursting into flame. I gyrate my hips shamelessly, chasing the friction. It’s not enough and too much at the same time, as my panties-clad pussy grazes the soft fabric of his pants.
Liam bites my lower lip and pulls, his hooded gaze on me. But I have no patience for pauses. No desire for a break. No prudence for premature regrets.
“Tell me to stop, Thunder,” he rasps.
Instead of my words, I kiss him harder, my hands sliding under his suit jacket. Fuck, the man is ripped. I tug at his tie. I need to feel his heat on my skin.
“This is a bad idea,” he murmurs, as he pushes my jacket off my shoulders.
“The worst,” I pant, abandoning his tie because the task seems impossible.
I ride his leg, dry-humping him like it was a question of life and death. Like chasing a release is the only thing that matters.
His fingers inch up my thigh. My head falls back, a moan escaping me as his thumb grazes my clit.
“Look how soaked you are, Thunder, making a mess all over my pants. What a dirty little slut you are.”
The words should sting. Instead, oh, God. They detonate inside me, driving me wild. Everything disappears as I chase and take and claim like a woman possessed.
Liam’s thumb finds the perfect rhythm so fast, it’s like he knows my body already. With his other hand, he cups the back of my neck, pulling me closer, swallowing my moans.
Hot desire spreads through me like wildfire. “I’m close,” I pant, rubbing myself on him shamelessly.
“So fucking hot, Thunder. You’re beautiful riding my leg like this. Fucking beautiful.”