Liam sat behind his desk, flipping through reports he wasn't reading, his mind replaying every second inside Vale & Associates. The fire in Mia's eyes, the curve of her mouth when she dared to defy him.
His phone buzzed. Richard Vale.
Liam smirked faintly. Right on time.
He answered without hesitation. "Richard."
"Mr. Alcaraz," Vale's voice was smooth, professional, but edged with that quiet disapproval only a seasoned lawyer could wield.
"I was informed you came to our offices this morning. Unannounced. I'd like clarity. Was there an issue with Attorney Villaruiz's handling of your account?"
Liam leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening at the implication. An issue with Mia? Of course the whispers had already reached him. This firm carried gossip like wildfire.
His tone was cool, deliberate. "There's no issue with her work. Villaruiz is brilliant. Sharp. The reason I agreed to keep my business with your firm in the first place."
A pause followed. Vale clearly hadn't expected that level of praise.
Liam's lips curved into something darker, more possessive. "Let's make this clear, Richard. If I walk into your building, it isn't because Attorney Villaruiz has done anything wrong. It's because she's the only one I trust to handle me directly. I don't wait for excuses, I don't waste my time with second-rate counsel, and I don't tolerate being kept at arm's length." His voice dropped, rich and low. "When I want her, I expect her."
The silence on the line stretched. Then Vale cleared his throat. "I see. So it was... personal preference."
"Call it what you want," Liam replied smoothly. "But don't mistake it for incompetence. Villaruiz is exceptional. If you doubt her, you doubt my judgment. And that, Richard..." He let the pause stretch, sharp as a blade. "...would be unwise."
When Vale finally spoke, his voice was lower, careful. "Understood, Mr. Alcaraz. You'll have no pushback from me on this matter."
"Good." Liam ended the call with a single press, not bothering with goodbyes.
For a moment, he sat still, staring at the skyline. He hadn't meant to defend her so openly. It wasn't strategy—it was instinct. The thought of anyone questioning Mia's competence, of anyone daring to diminish her worth—it clawed at something primal in him.
He hated how much it mattered.
And yet... it did.
Because whatever else she was—enemy, rival, temptation—Mia Villaruiz was his. His first. His fire. His unfinished story.
And he would scorch the world before he let anyone else tarnish her.
"You gave it back to me the last time, sir. Why do you need her file again?"
Anabel's voice was calm, clipped—professional, but with that faint undertone of curiosity she couldn't quite mask. Her manicured nails tapped lightly against the edge of the folder as she held it just out of reach, her eyes meeting Liam's across the desk with just a shade too much boldness.
Liam's gaze lifted slowly from his laptop, cold steel sharpening in his eyes. "You don't have the right to question me, Anabel." His voice dropped into that measured tone that had made seasoned executives crumble. "I am your employer. You are my assistant. And if you enjoy being either of those things, I suggest you keep your commentary to yourself."
The tapping of her nails faltered. Color drained from her face, though she managed a tight smile. "Of course, Mr. Alcaraz. My apologies. I only..." She hesitated, then added under her breath, "...found it odd, that's all."
"Odd?" His brow arched dangerously.
Her throat bobbed, but to her credit—or stupidity—she didn't retreat. "Yes. That you'd ask for Attorney Villaruiz's file more than once. Some of the staff have been talking." She met his glare, her voice a little too daring now. "I suppose the rumor might be true."
For a beat, silence.
Then Liam stood.
The chair slid back against the polished floor with a scrape that echoed like thunder in the glass-walled office. He stalked around the desk, his movements deliberate, predatory, until he was standing just a breath away from her. Anabel froze, clutching the folder tighter.
"What rumor?" His voice was low, deadly quiet—the kind of quiet that made grown men confess entire embezzlements.
Anabel's lips parted, her pulse flickering visibly at her throat. She had overstepped, and she knew it. Still, she swallowed and forced the words out, softer this time. "That... perhaps you were interested in her. In Attorney Villaruiz."
Liam's jaw ticked once, hard.
Interested? That word was far too small. What he felt for Mia Villaruiz was nothing so simple. It was need. Fury. Hunger. An unfinished war burning at the edges of his self-control. But he'd be damned before he gave anyone in this office the satisfaction of naming it aloud.
He leaned in slightly, his shadow cutting across her desk. "Let me make one thing very clear, Anabel." His words were ice and fire all at once. "If you repeat that nonsense to anyone again, you won't have to worry about handing me files. You'll be too busy updating your résumé."
Her face paled further, though her grip on the folder was trembling now. "Understood, sir."
He snatched the file from her hands, the motion sharp, final.
"Good." He turned his back on her and returned to his chair, already flipping the file open, dismissing her as completely as if she'd vanished into smoke.
But as she turned to leave, her heels clicking hurriedly against the marble, he caught her whisper—barely audible, but enough to reach him.
"Rumors always start from somewhere."
His head snapped up, but by the time he looked, she was already gone.
Liam's teeth ground together, the folder trembling faintly in his grip. Damn Anabel for her insolence. Damn the whispers in his office.
And damn Mia Villaruiz most of all—
because she was the reason every word of it stung with truth.
Liam let out a slow breath, the kind that rattled deep in his chest, as his eyes swept once more across the neat black lines of Mia's file. Her credentials, her accomplishments, her case history—all impressive, all expected. But his gaze wasn't on any of that.
It was on the single line near the bottom.
Marital status: single.
His grip on the folder loosened slightly, and for the first time since stepping into Vale & Associates, the tight coil in his chest eased. She was still single.
God help him, that was all that mattered.
Because the thought of her belonging to someone else—sharing her mornings, her laughter, her fire with another man—was unbearable. The image clawed at him like a blade, burning hotter than any defeat he'd ever suffered in the boardroom. He could fight rivals, bury enemies, crush competition without flinching. But the idea of Mia in another man's arms? That would have broken him.
And what a fool he was.
The first time Anabel had handed him this file, weeks ago, he hadn't even opened it. He'd skimmed the cover page, handed it back with disinterest. Why should he have cared who Vale assigned to his account? Lawyers were interchangeable. Counsel was counsel. He had no idea Mia Villaruiz—his Mia—was working here. No idea she would be standing across from him again, fire in her eyes, sharper and more untouchable than the girl he had left behind.
Now, with every page, he was devouring the details like a starving man. Her law school records. Her bar ranking. Her undefeated streak in arbitration. The neat little notes Vale had added in the margins: relentless, meticulous, client-focused.
He almost laughed, low and bitter. Of course she was relentless. Of course she was brilliant. He'd seen it in her long before anyone else did—back when she was still Mia with wide eyes and a heart too trusting. And now, here she was, the world finally seeing what he had known all along.
But it wasn't her degrees or victories that made his pulse pound. It was that single word. Single.
She hadn't married.
She hadn't given her heart away to anyone else.
Some dark, selfish part of him thrilled at that. She still belonged to herself—and that meant, just maybe, there was a part of her that still belonged to him.
His thumb brushed absently over the corner of the page, as though touching the file could bridge the distance between them. He could still remember the way her lips had tasted the first time he kissed her, the way her laugh had lit up his entire world. And now, after all these years, she was back in it—brighter, sharper, more dangerous than ever.
And she was free.
The knowledge hit him like oxygen to fire. Dangerous. Addictive. Impossible to ignore.
Liam snapped the file shut, his jaw tightening. He should've been relieved and left it at that. But relief wasn't enough. Not anymore.
Because now that he knew, there was no going back.
Mia Villaruiz wasn't married.
She wasn't taken.
And no matter how much she hated him, no matter how many walls she built between them—
—he would make damn sure she wasn't anyone else's.
The boardroom gleamed with polished steel and glass, the city skyline sprawling across the windows behind them. The long mahogany table was littered with contracts, fountain pens, and crystal water glasses, but Mia barely noticed any of it.
What she noticed was Liam Alcaraz sat across the table, posture impeccable, suit tailored to ruthless perfection. His eyes should have been on the contract Vale was presenting. Instead, they were fixed on her.
Mia kept her gaze trained on the document in front of her, forcing herself to underline a clause she already knew by heart. Her pen didn't even shake, though her pulse raced. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that his stare—steady, unrelenting—was setting her skin on fire.
"Attorney Villaruiz," Richard Vale's even voice cut through the silence. "Your thoughts on the exclusivity clause?"
Mia cleared her throat softly, sitting straighter. "It favors Alcaraz Holdings, but given the level of risk involved, I find it... acceptable. I'd recommend a minor adjustment to the penalty structure, however."
She turned the page calmly, aware of Liam's eyes still burning into her profile. He hadn't said a word in minutes. He didn't need to. His silence was heavier than any remark.
When she finally risked a glance, their eyes collided. And God help her, the world tilted.
Liam's gaze wasn't just steady—it was consuming. Possessive. Like every word she spoke, every movement she made, belonged to him alone. Her chest tightened, but she snapped her attention back to Vale, her tone as professional as ever.
"Shall we continue, sir?"
Richard Vale studied her a moment too long, his lips twitching as though amused.
Contracts. Clauses. Percentages. None of it registered.
How could it, when Mia Villaruiz sat across from him, silk blouse sharp against her skin, hair swept back in a style that made her look every inch the unshakable attorney? And yet, all he could think about was the way her lips had parted the last time she defied him, the fire in her eyes when she told him no one owned her.
Now she sat calmly, her voice even, her focus steady on the papers—as though he weren't unraveling across the table.
He wanted her to look at him.
He wanted her to slip.
He wanted her to see him the way she used to—when she'd been his everything.
But she wouldn't. She didn't give him so much as a flicker of acknowledgment.
Every word she spoke to Vale was precise, clipped, professional. Not once did she look at Liam when she addressed the terms, not once did she let her composure falter. It drove him mad.
And when Vale leaned back, eyes narrowing in quiet amusement, Liam knew he wasn't the only one who noticed.
"Attorney Villaruiz," Vale said smoothly, "you've impressed me today. Calm, poised, unshakable—even with such a... strong presence across the table."
Mia's pen stilled for half a second before she smoothly set it down, her chin lifting. "Thank you, sir."
Liam's jaw tightened. Strong presence? That wasn't praise. That was teasing. Vale had seen it—the tension coiling between them, the way Liam couldn't drag his eyes off her.
And Mia? She didn't even flinch. She accepted the compliment with serenity, damn her, like the battle raging in Liam's chest didn't touch her at all.