Twenty-Eight
TWENTY-EIGHT
LIAM
“ Y ou don’t have to do that, Lilly. It’s okay,” I say, a bit uneasy as I watch her move closer to my desk. She’s offered to help clean up the mess of papers scattered across it.
Lilly smiles sweetly, but there's a glint in her eyes I can't quite place. “It's no trouble, really. You work so hard, sir. Just let me take care of a few things for you.”
I glance back down at my screen, trying to focus on the report in front of me, but I feel her presence lingering beside me, too close for comfort. Too close for me right now. When she bends over to pick up a few files from the edge of the desk, her body brushes against mine ever so slightly. My muscles tense instantly, and I shift in my seat. It’s making me a bit uncomfortable.
“I’ll just organize these for you,” she says in a soft voice, her fingers brushing against my arm as she reaches for more papers. She’s smiling, but the way she lingers makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Something about this feels...strange. Innocent enough in action, but more sexual than it should be. Her posture, the way she bends at the waist just a bit too much, her blouse slipping slightly off her shoulder as she leans over. It’s subtle, but it’s there. She’s a beautiful woman, and if Sophie wasn’t the only thought in my mind, I might have considered her. But no one compares to Sophie.
I clear my throat. “Lilly, I’ve got it. You don’t need to?—”
She interrupts, placing a hand on my shoulder squeezing gently. “You work so hard, Liam. Let me help ease some of that tension,” she says my name again in that soft, breathy voice, I don’t like it. Her fingers start to knead my shoulder, offering a massage.
I tense up immediately. What the hell is this? My eyes dart up to her, but her expression remains innocent like she’s just trying to be helpful. But this? This isn’t appropriate.
“Lilly,” I say, firmer now. I move my hand to hers, and for a second, her eyes glimmer before I push her hand away, her smile faltering slightly.
She returns to my desk’s scattered papers. “Where do you want these? They seem to be letters from someone named Antoine.” I quickly reach for the said letters in her hand. After Sophie left me hanging, I had to do something to keep my mind occupied. So, I started organizing papers. I bring his letters with me everywhere. “I’ll take them, thank you.” Lilly smiles hesitantly before letting go of them, “Okay.”
These letters mean more to me than anything tangible around me. More than the success I’ve built, more than the titles, the money—everything. They’re the one thing I can’t replace. Several letters that my uncle sent me throughout the years, from my time in Barcelona, Porto, Lebanon. His words carried me through some of the most challenging decisions in my life and kept me grounded. The last letter I received was two years ago, just after his passing.
I feel that ache in my chest as I think about it, that weight of loss that never fully goes away, no matter how much time passes. I sigh, forcing myself to shake off the sadness creeping in.
I unfold the letter slowly, my fingers tracing the familiar handwriting like a lifeline. Each word feels heavier than the last, dragging me down with emotions I don’t know how to deal with right now.
Dear Liam,
My little one, well not so little anymore. You’ve grown to be the man your parents dreamed of. One filled with hope, love, and optimism. I couldn’t be prouder of you. I didn’t always show it, but believe me, you’ve done an incredible job with the business and yourself. You are Liam Ayoub, a name that will be spoken of with respect, not just for the success you've built but for the man you've become. There’s something special in you, a fire that burns brighter than others. Never let that fire dim. Never let anyone tell you that you’re not capable of greatness. You are?—
I stop reading, emotions clawing up my throat, threatening to choke me. My chest tightens painfully, and I blink rapidly, trying to push back the tears stinging my eyes. It’s too much. Everything is too much. Not now. Not today. I drop the letter, letting it fall to the floor. I can’t do this.
Lilly, who’s been hovering too close, kneels down quickly to pick up the letter. It’s mine. I told her I didn’t need help, and yet here she is, doing exactly what I didn’t ask for. Annoyance flares, but I bite my tongue. She’s just trying to be helpful.
But she doesn’t stand up. Instead, she stays there, kneeling in front of me, holding the letter in her hand. She looks up at me through her eyelashes, her voice soft, almost too sweet. “Here, sir,” she says. But then her hand—her goddamn hand—lands on my knee. Heat interrupts by her touch as she slowly slides it up. It’s not that good heat—it’s something else, something that makes my skin crawl. A suffocating weight presses down on me as her hand slides higher, each inch more unwelcome than the last. Her soft, too-sweet voice grates against my nerves, and I feel irritation prickling beneath the surface, overpowering any initial shock.
What the hell is she doing?
I feel my muscles tense, my jaw clenching as I try to process what’s happening. Before I can tell her to stop, the door slams open, hitting the wall with a sharp, echoing thud that jolts both of us, before it closes.
“Listen up, Liam! You have no damn right to—” Sophie’s voice slices through the room like a blade. But as she storms in, her eyes land on Lilly—kneeling at my feet, her hand still on my knee.
Sophie freezes, her mouth falling open as her eyes dart from Lilly to me, taking in every detail of the scene. I watch as her expression shifts from fury to shock, then something else I can’t quite place.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Sophie’s expression shifts from fury to shock, as she processes what she’s seeing. “Oh, I—I should’ve knocked.” Her voice stumbles, faltering, and she takes a step back. “I don’t—” She turns, practically sprinting for the door.
No. No. No. My stomach twists. I can’t let her walk away thinking this is what it looks like.
“Sophie, wait!” I’m on my feet in an instant, my voice loud. Anything to make her stay. She can’t walk away with that image burned into her mind. “Lilly, get up. Get out.”
Lilly’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t argue. She stands slowly, dusting off her skirt as if to regain some semblance of control. “But, sir?—”
“No.” My voice is steely. “No buts, Lilly. Out. Now.”
Lilly’s face flushes a deep red as she slips past Sophie, who’s still hovering by the door, frozen in place. The second the door clicks shut behind her, I turn back to Sophie. Her eyes are on the floor, and I swear I can feel the hurt radiating off her, even though she’s trying so hard to hide it.
“I didn’t mean to ruin your...moment,” she says, her voice tight, eyes still fixed on the door.
I close the distance between us quickly. “It wasn’t a moment,” I say, my voice soft but firm.
Her eyes finally meet mine, and I can see the disbelief swimming in them. They’re guarded, questioning, as if every word I say is a lie.
“You don’t owe me an explanation.” Her voice is low, defensive, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes.
“I don’t care what I owe you or don’t,” I snap, surprising myself. “I just don’t want you getting the wrong idea,” I insist, my hand itching to reach out and touch her, to make her understand, but I hold back. The last thing she needs is me crowding her.
She crosses her arms over her chest, her gaze flickering between the door and me, but she doesn’t move. “It sure looked like something,” she mutters, her lips pressing into a thin line. Her tone is sharp, but there’s something else beneath it—something that twists in my chest.
Jealousy? Is she...jealous?
My chest tightens with a strange sense of pride, and I’m not entirely sure why. If she’s jealous, that means there’s something there. Something more than just anger.
I swallow, willing myself to listen to her words instead of watching the way her lips part and press together. Memories of that night surge back with painful clarity—her body pressed against mine, the way her breath hitched every time I touched her.
I take a step closer, gauging her reaction. She’s still tense, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her jaw set, but her eyes flicker with something I can’t quite name. “Sophie,” I say softly, letting her name linger between us, hoping to break through the wall she’s putting up. “There’s nothing between me and Lilly. You know that, don’t you?”
Her gaze finally locks onto mine, her eyes narrowing slightly, doubt clouding them like a storm barely contained. There’s hurt there too, raw and unhidden, swimming just beneath the surface. “You don’t need to explain,” she whispers, but her voice wavers, betraying the words. “It’s none of my business.”
“Isn’t it?” I counter, my voice dropping, low and firm. “Because the way you’re looking at me right now says otherwise.”
She falters, her arms tightening around herself. “I’m not here to have this conversation,” she mutters, looking away.
“Then why are you here?” I ask, pressing gently, watching her reaction. “You came storming in like you had something to say. So why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”
Her arms drop as she takes a step forward, her jaw set. “You have no right to be angry with me, or corner me, telling me how I will be back ," she snaps, her voice layered with frustration and something else she’s not saying.
I ignore the latter part for now, I mean, she is back, isn’t she?
“I’m not angry with you,” I reply, steadying myself as she steps closer.
“Yes, you are,” she retorts, her voice rising. “You were practically lecturing me three hours ago! If that wasn’t anger, then what was it?”
I let out a long breath, my chest tightening with the weight of everything unsaid. The anger’s still there, sure, but it’s not aimed at her. I don’t want to be angry with her.
I look at her, my gaze softening. “That wasn’t anger, Sophie.”
Her face hardens, but there’s a flicker of doubt behind her eyes. “Then what was it?” she asks, her arms folding once more, this time in a protective gesture.
I close the gap between us, the tension crackling like a live wire ready to ignite at any moment, and let my voice soften as I look deep into her eyes. “Sophie,” I begin, my voice almost a whisper. “I care about you. I want you to succeed, to become what you’re meant to be—the person I know you’re destined to become. But for that, you need to believe in yourself, stand up for yourself, and not let Jared or anyone else take advantage of your kindness.”
She lets out a frustrated groan, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Ugh! Why do you have to be like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like before!” she blurts out and I’m left more confused than ever.
“I don’t understand,” I say, genuinely confused.
“Can’t you just act like a normal boss? Like…not someone who pretends to care but doesn’t actually swoop in to fix everything? Like someone who throws work at me one second, and the next looks at me like I’m the only thing you’ve ever wanted." Her voice trembles as she takes another step closer, her breath hitching. “It’s exhausting, Liam. You’re exhausting.”
“Exhausting?” I ask, eyebrows raised, but the air between us is charged. I can feel her anger, but I can also feel something else—something that's been there for a long time, unspoken but ready to burst through the surface.
“Yes!” she snaps, her chest rising and falling with the effort to contain her frustration. “Because you make it hard. You make it hard to…to—” She pauses, eyes flashing as she struggles to find the words.
“To what?” I ask. I can see her pulse racing at the base of her neck. Her breath falters, and I know she’s feeling this, too. The tension. The pull. All the unspoken things between us. Everything she means to me.
“To stay focused,” she finally blurts out, her voice cracking, her hands balled into fists at her sides.
I can't help the small, knowing smile that forms on my lips. “Focused on work or something else?”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t respond. Her eyes dart to my mouth, and it’s all I need to see.
“I looked you up, you know. After we... after we ended things. You were always out, partying. Women around you, alcohol, probably other stuff too and?—”
“I don’t do drugs.” I say with such a finality, it could cut through steel. I don't do that anymore. Never again.
She’s not just talking about the rumors she’s heard—she’s talking about what she’s seen, the version of me I let everyone else believe in. But that’s not the man standing in front of her now. I’ve never really been that guy and I never will.
She’s silent, biting her lower lip, weighing whether to believe me or not. I can see the mistrust flickering in her eyes, a shield she’s built to protect herself, and it guts me in ways I didn’t even know I could feel.
“I don’t do drugs. I’m telling you the truth.”
Her posture softens just a little. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, Liam. I’m just saying, you don’t have to pretend like you care about me that way and if you want to go for Lilly then do so. You don’t have to pretend because of me. Because we slept together. I don’t care.”
I don’t believe her, not for a second. Her whole body is betraying her, the way she shifts under my gaze, the way her breath quickens ever so slightly. She might say she doesn’t care, but everything about her right now is calling out to me. Her whole being is practically screaming for me, even though she doesn’t realize it yet.
“I don’t want Lilly.”
“Why not?” she asks, her voice challenging. “She’s hot.”
“Sure, she’s hot,” I say, my eyes locked on hers. I catch the way her chest rises slightly, her lips pressing together in that way she does when she’s holding back.
“Then what’s stopping you?”
“She’s my assistant.” I step closer, the tension between us thick, almost suffocating. “And I don’t want her. I want someone else.” I admit.
My gaze doesn’t waver, daring her to challenge me again.
“I don’t care who you want.”
“Liar," I growl, my voice dropping lower, more dangerous. “You care, Sophie. You care more than you’re willing to admit.”
She swallows hard, her chin lifting in defiance even as her voice trembles. “I don’t.”
“You do.”
“You’re my Boss.”
“I sure am.” I reply, a slow smirk tugging at my lips, the kind that always gets under her skin. And God, I want to get under her skin in every possible way.
“You can’t want me.”
“Who’s going to stop me?” I take another step forward, closer now, so close I can almost feel her breath against my skin. My body is already reacting, my pulse quickening, the need for her rushing through me.
Her eyes dart to my lips, then back up to meet mine, a silent battle playing out in her head. She takes a deep breath, looking away again, and then she whispers, “I promised that I…”
I lean in, my voice dropping even lower. “You promised what, Sophie?” I can feel her body heat now, the space between us practically buzzing.
Her chest rises and falls quickly, like she’s struggling to steady herself. Her lips part, her eyes flicking back to mine, then down to my lips again. Her body shifts closer to me, her resolve crumbling, and I can practically see the moment her will weakens.
“Promised what?” I press, my voice rough with the need to know. This back and forth, the push and pull—it’s driving me wild, and I can tell it’s breaking her down too. She’s hesitating. She's scared. But I can see it in her—she wants me too. Her body’s betraying her, just like mine is betraying me.
And when her eyes meet mine again, I know.
I have to hold myself back from closing the distance entirely, from pulling her into me. She has to make the move. She has to come back.
And then, without another word, she closes the gap, our lips crashing against each other. It’s not gentle; it’s not soft. It’s fire and desperation. Her fingers twist into my shirt, pulling me closer, and I’m lost in her taste, her scent, everything. I knew she’d come back.
But just as quickly as it started, she rips her lips from mine, gasping for air. Her breathing is ragged, her pupils blown wide as she stares at me like she can’t believe what she just did.
She bites her lip nervously, her gaze flickering between my eyes and my mouth. I can see the thoughts swirling in her head, the hesitation, the doubt.
No, Sunshine. Just let go. Don’t overthink it. Release whatever’s holding you back from me.
Every nerve ending in my body is screaming to pull her back, to chase that connection, but the conflict in her eyes holds me still.
Then something shifts, her gaze hardening slightly as if she’s made some kind of decision. Her shoulders straighten, and the nervous energy around her gives way to a strained resolve.
“This,” she waves a hand between us, “it can't be anything more, Liam.” she breathes, her voice trembling, the words sounding like she’s trying to convince herself as much as me.
Her eyes flash then, a mix of frustration and something darker, more primal. “This is only physical. No one can know,” she says, her tone low and sharp, a final wall thrown up between us.
“Only physical?” I echo, my voice dipping low, drawing closer. She nods, and I can see the conflict swimming in her eyes.
“Fine,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Just physical.” I agree with her out loud, but inside, my thoughts war with that promise. Whatever part of her she’s willing to give me, I’ll take. I’m a starving man, and she’s the dream I never thought I’d see again. Deep down, I have a feeling I’ll win her over. She will be mine again, in every way possible. I can be patient.
She stares at me, her lips parting slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You have to agree. No one can know. If anyone finds out…” She swallows hard, her eyes shimmering with something between fear and desperation. “It’ll ruin my reputation. You know what they’ll say. I can’t be the girl who slept with her boss. The one who fucked her way to success.”
“That isn’t true,” I say, the words coming out more forcefully than I expect.
“That’s what everyone will believe. And you are my boss.” Her voice wavers slightly, but the fear is clear in her eyes.
A muscle ticks in my jaw as her words settle in. Ruin her? The idea makes my blood simmer. But I can’t afford to push her away again and the idea of risking her reputation almost stops me.
I said almost, I’m not that kind of gentleman.
“Agreed,” I say, leaning in closer to her ear, “no one will know.”
Then, as if we both snap at the same time, we crash together again. My lips find hers, hard and demanding, and she responds with the same intensity. Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me even closer. Every touch is fire. Every kiss ignites something deeper.
But then she pulls back again. “Sophie,” I growl under my breath, reaching out for her, but she smirks, her eyes glinting with mischief as she walks backward, her blue eyes locked on mine. Without breaking eye contact, she reaches behind her and locks the door.
That’s my girl.
I smile, a slow, predatory grin spreading across my face as I stalk toward her. A predator after its prey.
Her back hits the door, and I’m there, pressing her against it, capturing her lips in another kiss, my hand exploring every curve of her body.
Only physical? Maybe. But right now, it’s everything.