12. Liam
12
LIAM
I groan frustratedly, which I've been doing a lot since I returned from Ava's at an ungodly hour last night. It's morning, Tyler is here, and he's cooked a mean omelet, but my mood is still foul. "So, we have nothing."
"Pretty much."
Perfect .
Tyler leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Liam, this isn't some bored socialite with too much time on their hands. Whoever this is, they're good. And if Vanessa's involved?—"
"She is," I say flatly.
He watches me for a beat. "Then you're running out of time to get ahead of her."
I know.
I lean back in my chair, fingers drumming against the desk. "We need to force their hand."
Tyler tilts his head. "How?"
"Set a trap."
He arches a brow, intrigued. "I'm listening."
I push off my desk, pacing to the window. Outside, the city moves on as if nothing is wrong—cars crawling through traffic, pedestrians lost in their own worlds, the sun casting a deceptive golden glow over everything. It's a lie. A veneer. Because beneath the surface, things are unraveling.
I glance back at Tyler. "The texts, the threats… They've been watching Ava closely. Which means they're waiting for their next opportunity."
Tyler nods, following my train of thought. "So we give them one."
I pull out my phone and scroll through my calendar. "There's a charity gala in North Hill in two days. High-profile. Exclusive."
"And let me guess—Vanessa will be there."
"Of course she will. She never misses an opportunity to play queen of the socialite circuit."
Tyler smirks. "And you just happen to have an invite?"
I give him a pointed look. "Do you even need to ask?"
He snorts. "Right. Should've known." Then his expression sobers. "So, what's the play?"
I cross my arms, laying it out. "We put out bait. A carefully curated post. Something vague, something that suggests Ava and I are onto something big, like we're working on removing all obstacles to our relationship or some such sentimental crap. If they're watching, they'll see it. And if they take the bait…"
Tyler grins. "Then we catch them."
I nod. "Exactly."
He considers it for a second, then exhales. "It's risky."
"I know."
"If it backfires, it could escalate things."
"I know that too."
Tyler watches me carefully. "And Ava?"
I hesitate. "She won't like it."
He laughs. "No shit. She'll hate it."
He's right. She will. She'll argue, she'll fight me on it, she'll call me reckless and controlling and accuse me of keeping things from her.
And she won't be wrong.
But I don't care because I will not let her become collateral damage in whatever game Vanessa is playing.
Tyler lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Damn. You've got it bad, don't you?"
I glare at him. "Shut up."
His grin widens. "Nah, I don't think I will." He leans back in his chair, stretching out like he's getting comfortable. "This is fun for me."
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Do you have anything useful to add?"
"Yeah." He kicks his feet up onto my desk, grinning. "You'd better tell Ava about this plan before she finds out and kills you herself."
I check my watch. I have a meeting in two hours. It's important and I need to prepare for it.
Instead, I grab my keys.
Tyler smirks. "That's what I thought."
I don't give him the satisfaction of a response. I just walk out.
By the time I reach Ava's, it feels like an eternity.
She answers almost immediately, which tells me she was already standing near the door.
The moment I see her face, I know something's wrong.
She's clutching her phone in one hand, her knuckles white around it. Her eyes are sharp, but there's something unsettled underneath, something that wasn't there before.
Without a word, she holds up the screen.
I don't have to ask who it's from.
You really should tell your brothers the truth. Or I will.
A slow, cold rage unfurls in my chest.
I step inside, shutting the door behind me. "When did you get this?"
"Right after I left brunch." Ava exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over her forehead. "I was halfway to my car when it came through."
I glance at the timestamp. Fifteen minutes ago.
Fifteen minutes.
Whoever this is, they're not just watching. They're close.
"This has to stop," I mutter, more to myself than to her.
Ava lets out a little huff. "No kidding."
I look at her, really look at her, and I can see it—the exhaustion, the frustration, the way her hands keep tightening into fists like she's barely keeping herself together.
I know that feeling.
I also know she's not going to back down.
"We need to stop playing defense," I say finally. "It's time to take action."
Her eyes snap to mine. "And how do you propose we do that?"
I step closer, lowering my voice. "We set a trap."
Ava blinks. "Excuse me?"
"Whoever this is, they want information. They want control. So we give them something to react to." I fold my arms. "A fake post. A fake event. Something that makes them think we're making a move—forces them to make one of their own."
Ava hesitates, biting her lip. "And if it backfires? If it just escalates things?"
"It won't," I say, but we both know that's a lie. It might. It probably will. But doing nothing isn't an option anymore.
Ava exhales, crossing her arms. "Liam…"
Her voice is different this time.
I know that tone.
She's hesitating, not because she doesn't believe in the plan but because she's afraid of what it might mean. What it might cost.
And maybe—just maybe—because she's starting to realize how much this is affecting me, too.
She shakes her head, her frustration boiling over. "I just…" She exhales sharply. "I don't get you."
I raise a brow. "Thanks?"
She scowls. "You want to protect me, but you won't tell me the whole truth. You act like I need to stay out of this, but you keep pulling me deeper in."
"Ava—"
"No," she cuts me off, eyes flashing. "You want me to trust you? Fine. Then be honest with me, Liam. Because I'm so goddamn tired of feeling like I'm the only one who doesn't know what's going on."
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to find the words. Trying to piece together something that doesn't sound like an excuse.
But she's looking at me like she's demanding the truth. Like she won't accept anything less.
So I tell her the part that matters.
"I'm afraid," I admit, voice rough. "Of what Vanessa is capable of. Of what happens if we make the wrong move. Of what happens to you if this spirals out of control." I shake my head. "And yeah, I'm afraid of this. Of us. Because I don't know how to do this without wanting more than I should."
Silence.
Ava's lips part slightly, like she wasn't expecting that.
Hell, I wasn't expecting it either.
She swallows. "Liam?—"
I step forward before she can say anything else.
Because I already know that if I let her speak, if I let her think about this too much, she'll put distance between us again. She'll tell me this is a bad idea, that we're in too deep, that we should stop whatever the hell this is before it's too late.
And I can't let that happen.
I cup her face in my hands, my thumb brushing over her cheek, and I kiss her.
And this time, she kisses me back like she knows exactly what this is. Exactly what it's becoming.
Exactly what's at stake.
Every ounce of restraint, every carefully built wall shatters.
I don't move gently. I don't ask for permission.
She doesn't want that, and I sure as hell don't, either.
My hands tighten around her face, angling her just right, deepening the kiss until she gasps into my mouth. That sound? I drink it in, pressing my body flush against hers, pressing her back step by step until she collides with the nearest wall.
She exhales, her hands fisting the front of my jacket, pulling me in instead of pushing me away.
Good.
Because I'm not stopping this time.
My mouth moves hungrily against hers, demanding, taking. I bite her lower lip, teasing, tugging, then soothe it with my tongue, groaning when she melts into me.
She's fire in my hands.
Her fingers shove at my jacket, her nails scraping along my shoulders as she pushes it off. I shrug it away, barely processing the sound of it hitting the floor, too focused on the way she feels pressed against me.
Warm. Soft in all the right places.
My hands skim down her sides, firm, possessive, gripping her waist as I pin her harder against the wall. She lets out a ragged moan, arching into me, her thigh brushing against my hip, her breath breaking when I press my knee between her legs.
"Liam," she gasps, her head falling back against the wall.
Fuck, hearing my name like that—so needy, so breathless—makes something dark and primal coil in my gut.
I lean in, dragging my lips along the column of her throat, nipping at the delicate skin, feeling the frantic pulse beneath.
She's shaking, gripping my shirt like it's the only thing keeping her upright.
I run my hands down her back, then lower, gripping the backs of her thighs before I hoist her up.
She lets out a sharp gasp, legs instinctively wrapping around my waist, locking us together.
"That's it," I growl against her throat. "Hold on to me, Ava."
She does.
I press my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling, the heat between us scorching.
"This is a bad idea," she whispers.
"The worst."
Then I kiss her again, rougher this time.
She groans, rolling her hips against me, rubbing against the hard length of my cock through my slacks.
Jesus .
She's already so desperate, so ready.
And I've barely touched her yet.
I spin us away from the wall, walking her toward the bedroom, never breaking the kiss.
She clings to me, breathing hard, her nails digging into my shoulders.
We don't make it to the bed.
Halfway there, I lose the last of my control.
I drop her onto the dresser, knocking over something ceramic in the process.
Neither of us cares.
She yelps at the sudden movement, but it turns into a shaky moan when I spread her thighs wider, stepping between them, pressing my cock against her heat.
I tug at the hem of her blouse.
"This needs to go," I murmur. My voice is wrecked.
She lifts her arms without hesitation, and I rip it over her head, tossing it aside.
Fuck.
The sight of her—flushed, breathless, sitting on the dresser in nothing but her bra and skirt, looking at me like she'd let me ruin her completely—nearly undoes me.
"Goddamn," I rasp, running my fingers over her exposed skin, feeling every tremble beneath my touch.
She shivers as I trace the lace of her bra, then reach behind her, unhooking it with practiced ease.
It slides down, and I groan at the sight of her bare breasts, perfect and already peaked in anticipation.
I palm one, rolling my thumb over her nipple, watching her react.
Her lips part, her head tipping back, a moan spilling out that makes my cock throb.
"You like that?" I murmur, teasing the sensitive peak.
She nods frantically.
Not good enough.
I lean in, pressing a kiss to her collarbone, then lower, dragging my tongue over the swell of her breast before sucking her nipple into my mouth.
She gasps, arching, her fingers tangling in my hair, holding me there.
I groan, flicking my tongue, biting gently, making her whimper.
I don't stop, don't let up, switching to the other, teasing, savoring, making her squirm in my grip.
She's desperate now, panting, shifting against me, her legs tightening around my waist, trying to get more friction.
I slide my hands lower, over her hips, pushing up her skirt, gripping the waistband of her panties.
"This too," I murmur against her skin, dragging them down her thighs, baring her completely.
She shivers, her breath breaking as I run my fingers between her slick folds, teasing, feeling how fucking ready she is.
I growl, low and possessive. "You're soaking for me, baby."
She whimpers. "Liam?—"
I slide two fingers inside her, deep, curling just right.
She moans, her head dropping back against the mirror, her body clenching around my fingers.
I smirk against her neck. "I want to hear you beg for it, Ava."
She's already too far gone, too caught up in the pleasure to care about dignity anymore.
"Please," she breathes, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
I thrust my fingers deeper, rubbing her clit with my thumb, making her cry out.
"Please, what?" I demand.
She meets my gaze, her eyes blown wide with need.
That, right there, is my undoing.