The pounding bass of the club hit Piya's chest the moment she and Asha stepped inside. Neon lights flickered across the crowded dance floor, painting faces in flashing shades of blue, pink, and red. For a girl like Piya, who had never stepped into a place like this before, the scene was nothing short of overwhelming. The smell of perfume, alcohol, and sweat mixed with the vibration of the music, making her grip Asha's arm tightly.
"Relax, Piya!" Asha shouted over the music, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "This is fun! We'll just enjoy!"
Piya forced a nod, though her heart raced. Her eyes darted around, scanning the unfamiliar chaos of people dancing, laughing, shouting, and brushing against each other without a care.
They somehow made their way to the bar counter. Asha leaned in close to be heard, practically yelling into Piya's ear.
"Do you want to drink?"
"No!" Piya shouted back, shaking her head furiously. "Just... just juice!"
Asha laughed, shaking her head, and flagged down the bartender. "One cocktail for me, and juice for her."
Piya clutched her glass tightly, feeling small in the midst of so much noise and confidence swirling around her. For a while, the two girls leaned close, shouting short conversations at each other.
"This place is insane, right?" Asha yelled.
"Too insane!" Piya answered, her voice cracking nervously.
But soon, Asha's eyes lit up when a new track boomed through the speakers. Without warning, she grabbed Piya's hand.
"Come on! Dance floor!"
"What? No, Asha, I—"
But her protest was drowned in the music as Asha pulled her toward the swaying crowd. Bodies pressed against each other, moving to the beat, and the flashing lights made it difficult to focus. Piya's heart pounded harder than the bass. With a sudden tug, she pulled her hand free.
"I'll... I'll just watch from there!" she shouted, pointing toward the side.
Asha groaned dramatically but grinned. "Fine! But don't just stand like a statue!" And with that, she melted into the crowd, swaying and laughing like she belonged there.
Piya moved away, sighing in relief. From her corner, she could still see Asha dancing happily. She clutched her glass like a lifeline, willing herself to calm down.
Far above the floor, in a private lounge with tinted glass overlooking the chaos, Liam sat. His tall frame leaned against the couch, one arm resting casually, his face unreadable. The sharpness of his jawline glowed faintly under the dim club lights, but his expression was the same as always — calm, cold, detached.
Beside him, Joe shifted restlessly, nursing a drink.
"This is boring," Joe muttered, eyeing the dance floor. "I'm not going to sit here like you, Liam. I'm going down."
"Do as you wish," Liam replied flatly, not sparing him a glance.
Joe scoffed, pushed himself up, and vanished into the crowd, leaving Liam alone with his silent watchfulness.
Meanwhile, Piya's moment of calm didn't last. A careless stranger stumbled into her, spilling a sticky drink across her dress.
"Oh no!" she gasped, staring at the stain spreading across the fabric. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment.
"Sorry!" the man slurred before vanishing into the crowd.
Panicked, Piya hurried toward the washroom, but the moment she pushed open the door, she froze. A couple was pressed against the wall, locked in a heated kiss. Her eyes widened in horror, and she quickly backed away, face burning.
"What is happening here..." she whispered, her voice trembling.
She found another washroom, quickly cleaning the stain with shaking hands. But as she tried to leave, a group of drunken boys blocked her way, their smirks sending a shiver down her spine.
"Hey pretty, alone, huh?" one of them drawled, his eyes shamelessly scanning her.
Another leaned closer, his hand almost brushing her arm. "Why so shy? Stay with us."
Fear erupted in Piya's chest. Her breath came in quick gasps, and without a word, she shoved past them and bolted. Her heels clicked against the floor as she searched desperately for a way out.
Her eyes landed on a door slightly ajar — a private room. Without thinking twice, she darted inside, slamming the door behind her.
The room was nearly dark, only threads of neon light seeping in through the tinted windows. Her back pressed against the door, her chest heaved as she tried to steady her frantic heartbeat. Sweat dampened her palms, and her whole body trembled.
"Safe... I'm safe," she whispered to herself, though her voice cracked.
But she wasn't alone.
Unbeknownst to her, Liam sat in the corner, half-shadowed. His dark eyes had been watching silently ever since she barged in. She was too shaken to notice him, her gaze darting only toward the door, terrified the boys would follow.
She took a step forward, stumbling in the darkness — and the next moment, she lost her balance. A small cry escaped her lips as she fell...
...straight into someone's lap.
Strong arms instinctively caught her, steady and unyielding. Her breath hitched. Her wide eyes lifted just as a flash of the club's neon lights cut across the room, revealing the face she least expected.
Liam.
Her heart stopped. He was staring down at her, his face inches away, his gaze burning with the same intensity as that night when he had caught her in the corner of the ballroom. His dark eyes locked onto hers, unblinking, unreadable — as though he could see straight into her soul.
Piya couldn't move. Her body felt frozen, her mind utterly blank. She was painfully aware of how close she was, sitting in his lap, his arms wrapped firmly around her waist, his tall frame surrounding her like an unyielding wall.
The silence was suffocating.
Then his voice broke it — low, deep, echoing against her ears like a spell.
"Are you going to get up... or stay like this?"
The words sent a shiver down her spine. But Piya couldn't respond; she only stared, her lips parted slightly, her heart hammering so hard she thought he might hear it.
Liam's brows lowered ever so slightly. He raised one eyebrow, studying her with growing impatience, yet for reasons unknown, he didn't push her away. Any other woman in this position would've been thrown out instantly — but he didn't move.
"Didn't you hear me?" he asked again, his voice cutting through her daze.
Piya blinked rapidly, finally snapping back to reality. "W-what?" she stammered, her voice trembling, barely audible.
His eyes darkened, his patience thinning, but still, his arms didn't release her. He just stared at her — deep, relentless, unreadable — while her entire being trembled under that gaze.
For Piya, it felt like she had been pulled into another world, one where fear and something unnamed swirled together, leaving her breathless and trapped.
Her breath caught in her throat as reality slammed back into her. Her eyes widened at the realization of where she was — in Liam's lap, his arms around her, his gaze burning into her.
"I–I'm sorry!" The words tumbled from her lips in a broken, panicked rush. Her cheeks flamed, her chest tightened, and she scrambled to get up. But her clumsy hands fumbled against the smooth fabric of his suit. In her desperate hurry, her heel slipped against something on the floor.
And once again — she fell.
Straight back into his lap.
The moment stretched unbearably. The air grew heavier, more charged. Piya's breath quickened as her eyes darted everywhere except his, her mind screaming at her about her dress, her posture, her body pressed against him. The neckline of her dress — already something she was self-conscious about — suddenly felt like a glaring spotlight. She wanted to disappear, to hide, but her body betrayed her, frozen in place.
And Liam... he noticed.
His dark, unreadable eyes studied her closely — every flinch, every tremble, every flicker of panic across her face. He didn't speak, didn't move hastily, but there was a sharpness in the way his gaze traced her. It wasn't lecherous. It was controlled, assessing, unnervingly calm — like he was cataloguing every single detail.
In her hurrying, something else had slipped. One of the delicate shoulder ties that held her dress in place had loosened slightly, drooping just enough to expose her bare shoulder.
Piya gasped softly, mortified, her hand flying up to fix it —but because of panic she was not able to fix it, before she could panic more, Liam moved.
His fingers reached out, steady and sure. With a furrow in his brow, he caught the loosened strap and tied it back into place with precise, unhurried movements.
The brush of his fingertips against her bare skin was fleeting, almost accidental, but it was enough. A jolt of sensation shot through her, making her shiver. She didn't know if it was because of the cold air in the room or the brief touch of his hand.
Her body stiffened. Her face burned so fiercely it felt as if the neon lights outside were painting her cheeks red. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think.
He noticed that too.
Liam's gaze flicked up, catching the way she trembled, the way her lips parted in shock, the way her eyes darted away in embarrassment. His expression barely shifted, but there was the faintest tightening of his jaw, the smallest narrowing of his dark eyes — as if even he couldn't ignore the strange intensity of this moment.
Piya's heart pounded wildly, her entire being overwhelmed. She wanted to say something, anything, but the words tangled in her throat. All she could do was sit frozen, blushing like a child caught in something forbidden, while his calm, composed presence wrapped around her like a storm she didn't know how to escape.