"What?" Anabel blinked at him, nearly dropping her tablet. "You want me to look at... a property for sale?"
Liam looked up from his desk, his brows knitting together. "Is there something wrong with your hearing, Anabel?" His tone was sharp, clipped, the same one that could silence an entire boardroom.
But of course, Anabel wasn't just anyone in a boardroom.
She crossed her arms, tilting her head, unbothered. "Tell me, Mr. Alcaraz, do you still want me working here?"
Liam's gaze narrowed. "Do you?"
"Of course," she said quickly, then added under her breath, "though my job description did not say 'real estate agent.'"
"Anabel." His voice carried a warning edge.
"Fine, fine," she muttered, eyes skimming her tablet as if already making notes. "I'll look. I'm just... shocked. Out of nowhere you suddenly want to buy another property? You already own half the skyline. And the beach villas you never visit. And the penthouse you don't even sleep in half the time." She glanced up, dry amusement flickering in her gaze. "And now you want me to find you something out of town—quiet, far away from the city, secluded. Do I have that right?"
"Yes." His tone brooked no argument. "And I don't intend to repeat myself."
She pursed her lips, tapping her pen against the tablet. Of all the people in his world, only Anabel ever dared to poke holes in his armor. She wasn't just his assistant—though he'd never say it out loud—she'd been a kind of mother, mentor, and confidante rolled into one. Which made her too perceptive for his liking.
"I'm just... curious why," she said at last, her voice softer.
Liam sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Fine. You win."
Her eyes lit with triumph. "So... it's because of Attorney Villaruiz, isn't it? You want to be alone with her somewhere remote, somewhere without signal, where she can't glare at you across a boardroom table?"
Liam froze. His jaw worked, but the denial never came. Instead, his shoulders slumped like a child caught red-handed. "...Yes." His voice was low, defeated. "And I'd do anything, anything, just to be alone with her."
Anabel burst out laughing, the kind of laugh that turned heads in the hallway.
Liam's face soured instantly. "Laugh all you want, Anabel. I'm glad I amuse you."
"Oh, you do," she wheezed, clutching her tablet like it was a life raft. "You, Liam Alcaraz, titan of industries, buying property in the middle of nowhere just to trap one woman into dinner with you? This is better than any soap opera."
"Are you done?" His glare could have killed a lesser human.
She straightened, still grinning, then softened when she saw the heaviness in his eyes. "Liam... you don't need to act like this. You don't need to buy a mountain, a vineyard, or whatever else you're plotting. For heaven's sake, just ask her out."
He looked away, his mouth tightening. "She's not an ordinary woman. She's not like anyone else."
Anabel's teasing melted into something gentler. "Hey. I don't think there's a woman alive who's immune to your charm, Mr. Alcaraz."
He let out a hollow half-laugh, shaking his head. "Of course there is. And her name is Mia Villaruiz."
For a moment, silence hung in the office—heavy, raw.
Anabel's smile faded, replaced with something wistful. She'd worked for him long enough to recognize that tone, the bitterness of a man who could conquer the world but not the one heart that mattered.
Silence stretched after his bitter admission. Liam kept his gaze fixed on the skyline beyond the glass, the city gleaming like a crown beneath his feet. He wanted the view to steady him, to remind him of control, power, everything he had built. But control was a lie. Because even here, at the top of his empire, one woman had managed to undo him.
Mia.
The sound of Anabel's voice cut through the storm inside him. "Liam, you know I've worked for your family since you were a teenager. I was there the day you stepped into your father's chair, the day the world stopped calling you 'the heir' and started calling you 'the man in charge.' I've seen you stare down titans—men who would've gutted kingdoms just to see you blink. And do you know what? Not once—not once—have I ever seen you like this."
He tore his gaze from the window, eyes flashing. "Like what?"
"Human," she said simply.
The word landed like a crack across his armor. Human. As if she'd pulled the word from somewhere he'd buried so deep only Mia Villaruiz could dig it out again.
His jaw flexed, but he didn't argue. He couldn't.
Anabel leaned back, her tone gentler now, threaded with the familiarity of someone who had known him longer than most. "You don't need to buy another house on some mountain, Liam. You don't need to stage games to corner her. Ask her. Tell her the truth. For once in your life, stop trying to outmaneuver the very thing you want."
He scoffed, though even to his own ears it rang hollow. "You don't understand. Mia isn't like everyone else. She sees through me. Always has."
"That's why you're terrified," Anabel said softly. "And why you can't stay away."
Liam's hands curled against the edge of the desk, his shoulders taut. For a long time, the only sound in the office was the faint hum of the city below. And then, his voice broke through—low, rougher than he meant it to be.
"You know," Anabel said suddenly, her tone lighter, "if your father could still speak as sharply as he used to, he'd probably be laughing at you."
Liam's head snapped toward her, his eyes dangerous. "Laughing?"
She chuckled, unafraid. "Yes. Laughing because the great Liam Alcaraz—the man who makes CEOs fold with a look—is sitting here plotting a real-estate kidnapping scheme just to get five minutes alone with a woman. Honestly, it's ridiculous. And a little adorable, though don't make me say that twice."
"My father wouldn't be laughing, Anabel." His eyes darkened as they fixed on hers. "He'd be furious."
Her brows lifted, but she stayed quiet.
"He'd be furious because she was the reason I was sent abroad," Liam went on, his voice edged with old bitterness. "The reason they forced me to leave. The girl I left behind. He would never forgive me for letting her slip out of their control."
Anabel froze. The weight of his words sank in slowly, like lead dragging through water. And in that instant, it dawned on her: Mia wasn't just another girl. She wasn't another flirtation or rebellion. She was the girl. The one Liam had burned for all those years ago. The one they had buried under excuses and exile.
Memories surfaced unbidden—the day Liam took his father's chair after the stroke, standing tall while the man who had once roared in boardrooms sat silent with his cane, half a lion in a cage of his own body. Anabel had been there when Liam's mother had tried to press the Montemayor alliance on him again, Stacy's name shimmering like gold on her tongue. She remembered Liam's voice that day—hard as steel, final as a verdict.
"I will take this company. I will lead it. But you will never dictate who I marry."
And with that, he had called off his long engagement to Stacy Montemayor. Publicly. Irrevocably.
It had been one of the boldest, most reckless moves she'd ever seen from him. And it hadn't stopped Stacy from lurking, from clawing, from circling like a vulture waiting for her chance. The Montemayor heiress had been a thorn in their side ever since, turning up at galas, planting rumors, trying and failing to make herself indispensable. More times than Anabel could count, she'd had headaches cleaning up the mess Stacy left in her wake.
But now? Now she saw the truth that had been buried beneath it all. Liam hadn't broken off that engagement just because of defiance, or strategy, or pride. He had done it for her.
For Mia.
Anabel's throat tightened, though she masked it with a dry chuckle. "So all these years... it was her."
Liam didn't deny it. His silence was answer enough.
He turned back to the window, his reflection sharp in the glass—a man who could break empires yet was powerless against a single woman. "Mia Villaruiz isn't just another battle," he said quietly, more to himself than to her. "She's the war I've never stopped fighting."
For the first time in years, Anabel didn't see Liam Alcaraz the CEO, the man who bent markets with a word. She saw the boy she had steadied in those long hallways, raw and unarmored, clutching a love his family had tried to erase.
And as much as she wanted to scold him for being reckless, her heart ached with something else.
Hope.
Because maybe, just maybe, Mia Villaruiz was the only one who could give Liam back the part of himself he had buried the day he walked away from her.
"Don't worry," Anabel said finally, after watching him wrestle with himself in silence. She picked up her tablet and tucked it under her arm, her expression softening in that way only she could manage with him. "I'll look for the perfect place you're asking for. Something far from the city. Quiet. Private. Exactly what you need."
The hard line of his jaw relaxed, his gaze softened just slightly, and before he could stop himself, a smile tugged at his mouth. It was small, fleeting, but enough to bring out the deep dimples that had once made entire rooms of debutantes sigh.
Anabel blinked at him, then laughed, shaking her head. "There it is. I knew you still had it in you."
Liam frowned, confused. "Had what?"
"Dimples, Liam," she said dryly, though her tone was full of affection. "A smile that doesn't look like it's about to close a merger or kill someone in a boardroom. Do you have any idea how boyish and devastatingly handsome you look when you actually let yourself smile like that?"
He groaned, dragging a hand over his face as though her words physically pained him. "Anabel—"
"No, listen to me." She leaned forward on her elbows, grinning like a cat who had finally cornered her prey. "You should show that side more often. Especially to Mia."
At her name, the smile vanished from his face. Just like that, the CEO mask slid back into place—steel and control, every inch of softness tucked away again. His jaw locked, and his eyes narrowed into the familiar glare.
Anabel only sighed, unbothered. "There. That frown again. You act like the world will collapse if you let anyone see the man under all that steel." She tilted her head, her voice softening just a fraction. "But Mia doesn't need the ruthless CEO, Liam. She's already seen that. What might undo her... is this."
She mimicked his earlier smile with exaggerated dimples, earning a sharp scoff from him.
"Ridiculous," he muttered, turning back toward the skyline, as though the city lights could shield him from the truth of her words.
But Anabel wasn't fooled. She had known him too long, had seen too much. She saw how quickly the boy she remembered—the one with dimples and reckless laughter—had flashed across his face, only to be buried again under the weight of armor.
And she knew.
If Liam Alcaraz ever dared to show that side of himself to Mia Villaruiz, even for a moment, it would be the one weapon he couldn't control.
Because it wouldn't just soften her.
It might undo him, too.