Sixteen
Heat of the Moment
AUSTIN
I WATCH AS MIA disappears into the hallway with her brother, her face a storm of emotion she’s trying—and failing—to hide.
Liam, the ex-boyfriend, is standing on the far side of the room, chatting like he’s the life of the party. The guy’s got the audacity of a politician.
Over the years, Mia has told me all about this wank stain. How he broke her heart and upped and left her without so much as an explanation.
What a cock.
I clench my jaw and down the rest of my whiskey, trying not to think about the way Mia’s entire body stiffened when she saw him.
It wasn’t fear. It was something worse—pain.
And pain? That’s harder to swallow than anger.
Anger I can work with. Pain makes me want to break things. Preferably his face.
Charlotte slides up next to me, her wine glass in hand and her expression a little too smug. “Enjoying the family drama, boss man?”
I shoot her a glare. “Does it look like I’m enjoying it?”
“Hmm,” she muses, tapping her glass with a manicured nail. “You’re wound tighter than a ball of yarn at a cat convention. Want my advice?”
“No.”
She leans closer anyway, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Mark your territory. Publicly. He’ll slink off with his tail between his legs.”
Before I can respond to that brilliant insight, Mia reappears, her expression guarded but softer than before. She doesn’t look at Liam; she doesn’t need to. The tension in the room spikes the second she’s back, and I swear the guy actually straightens like some damn cockerel in a henhouse.
I step forward, putting myself squarely between them. I reach for her hand—not a casual touch, but one she can’t ignore—and she glances up at me, startled. “You ok?” I murmur, low enough that only she can hear.
She nods, but it’s half-hearted. “Fine. Let’s just get through this.”
Oh, no. That’s not happening. I don’t just “get through” things.
“Come on,” I say, tugging her toward the patio doors. “We need some air.”
She resists for half a second before sighing and following me outside. The cool night air wraps around us, and I don’t stop until we’re at the edge of the patio, far enough from prying eyes and ears.
“What are we doing out here?” she asks, crossing her arms against the chill. Her tone is defensive, but her eyes—those gorgeous, stormy eyes—betray her. She’s vulnerable, shaken, and trying not to let it show.
I shrug out of my jacket and drape it over her shoulders. “We’re talking. Preferably before I decide to teach your ex some manners.”
She huffs out a laugh, but it’s not a happy one. “Liam isn’t worth your energy.”
I step closer, tilting her chin up so she can’t look away. “He’s worth something if he’s got you looking like this.”
Her eyes soften, and for a moment, I think she might actually open up. But then she steps back, pulling my jacket tighter around herself. “This isn’t about Liam.”
“Like hell it isn’t,” I snap, frustration bubbling over. “You think I didn’t see the way he looked at you? Like he’s still got a claim?”
She glares at me now, her stubbornness kicking in. “I’m not some prize to be fought over, Austin.”
“No,” I agree, taking another step forward. “You’re not. But you’re mine, Mia. Fake or not, we’re doing this together. And if that dickhead thinks he can waltz in here and mess with your head—”
“You’ll what?” she interrupts, her voice rising. “Throw him into the nearest wall? Beat your chest and tell him to back off? Newsflash, Austin: I don’t need you to protect me. I’m not some damsel who needs to be saved from her ivory tower.”
Her words hit like a slap, but instead of retreating, I close the distance between us. “No, you don’t need me to protect you. But maybe you need someone who gives a shit. And guess what, Mia? I do, that's me. I’m that person.”
The silence that follows is deafening. Her lips part, her eyes wide, and for the first time all night, she looks completely disarmed.
I exhale sharply and drag a hand through my hair. “This isn’t just fake for me, you know that.” I admit, my voice quieter now.
Her breath hitches, and for a moment, I think she’s going to say something—something real. But before she can, the patio door slides open, and Charlotte’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife.
“Am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” I bark.
Mia laughs softly, the moment broken. She steps away, back into herself, and I feel the loss like a physical ache.
Charlotte smirks. “Good. Danny’s cutting the cake. You two lovebirds better hurry before Liam gets the first slice.”
I glance at Mia, hoping to catch some sign of what she’s thinking, but she’s already heading for the door, leaving me standing there in the cool night air with a gnawing sense of unfinished business.
Again.
I follow Mia back inside, but my eyes are already locked on Liam. He’s by the kitchen island, leaning casually against the counter like he owns the damn place, chatting with Danny’s wife, Claire. He looks too comfortable for someone who wasn’t even invited.
Mia moves toward the dining room, her hand trailing along the back of a chair like she’s trying to steady herself. I want to grab her, keep her close, but I know that look. She’s trying to hold it together, and if I push right now, it’ll backfire.
So instead, I redirect my focus to the problem at hand.
Liam.
I stride toward him, the clamor of conversations fading into the background. He notices me approaching and straightens, his smile dropping a fraction. Good.
“Austin, right?” he says, offering a hand like we’re at some business meeting.
I don’t take it. Instead, I cross my arms and plant my feet, blocking him in. “Liam,” I say, my tone flat. “I think we need to talk.”
Claire glances between us, her brows knitting together. “Everything ok?”
“Yeah,” I say without breaking eye contact with him. “We’re good. Can we have a minute?”
Claire hesitates, looking at Liam, who gives her some kind of charming little nod. With a reluctant smile, she steps away, leaving us alone.
Liam shoves his hands into his pockets, his posture annoyingly relaxed. “Something on your mind?”
“Yeah,” I say, leaning in just enough to make him squirm. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He chuckles, but it’s forced. “Danny invited me. We go way back.”
“Funny,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Because I’ve been around Mia long enough to know your name’s not exactly welcome in this family.”
His jaw ticks, the first crack in his smooth fa?ade. “Look, I’m not here to cause trouble.”
“You sure about that?” I counter. “Because showing up uninvited to a family dinner where your ex is happily engaged doesn’t exactly scream ‘innocent.’”
His gaze flicks toward the dining room, where Mia is standing with Charlotte, her laughter masking the tension I know she’s feeling.
“Engaged,” he repeats, his voice dripping with skepticism. “Right. Because I heard through the grapevine that it all happened . . . quickly. Which doesn't sound like Mia.”
I step closer, dropping my voice to a low growl. “Let me make something clear, Mia is off-limits. You don’t get to show up here and dredge up whatever history you two had.”
Liam smirks, but it’s a weak attempt to save face. “Look, mate, I didn’t come here for her. Danny invited me, and I thought it’d be good to catch up. If Mia wants to avoid me, that’s her prerogative.”
“You’re right,” I say, my tone sharp as a blade. “It is. So do her a favor and stay the fuck away.”
He straightens, his posture stiffening as his mask of charm finally slips. “You think you can just walk in and play the knight in shining armour? You don’t know anything about her, about us.”
My fist clenches at my side, but I hold my ground. “You’re right. I wasn’t there. But I heard all about you, and I see the way she looks when she sees you, and it’s not fond memories, Liam. It’s damage. Heartbreak. And if you really cared about her, you’d see that too and leave her the hell alone.”
His eyes flash with something—anger, guilt, maybe both—but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he steps back, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt like this is some kind of business negotiation he’s just lost.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening,” he says, his tone clipped, before brushing past me and heading toward the front door.
I watch him go, my chest tight with barely contained fury. But as the door closes behind him, a different emotion takes over—relief.
I glance back into the dining room and see Mia standing near Charlotte, her smile strained but steady. She’s trying to play it cool, but I can see the cracks, the weight she’s carrying from just being in the same room as him.
Not on my watch.
I stride across the room, ignoring the hum of conversations and the clatter of silverware around me as the staff clear the table. My focus is locked on her. She looks up as I approach, her brows knitting in question.
“Austin?” she asks softly, tilting her head.
I don’t stop. I don’t answer. I just slide my hand to the small of her back, pulling her close, and press my lips to hers.
Her gasp is swallowed by the kiss, her hands instinctively flying to my chest. For a split second, she’s frozen, but then she melts into me, her fingers clutching at my shirt.
The kiss is slow but deliberate. It’s not just a show for everyone else—it’s a declaration.
Mine.
When I pull back, her cheeks are flushed, her lips slightly parted. Her eyes search mine, wide and startled, but there’s something else there too.
“What was that for?” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly.
I smirk, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Just making sure everyone knows who you belong to.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of sass returning. “I don’t belong to anyone, Austin.”
I chuckle, dipping my head closer. “Oh, you absolutely belong to yourself. But if Liam—or anyone else—thinks they can walk in here and mess with you, they’re going to have to go through me first.”
She stares at me, her lips twitching like she’s fighting a smile. “You’re ridiculous,” she murmurs, but there’s no heat in her words.