"What is this?" Mia asked, brows arching as Josh handed her a thick envelope.
"Just open it," he said, far too smug for her liking.
She scowled but tore the seal anyway. The contents slipped into her hands—and her eyes widened. Photographs. Dozens of them. Handsome men, all different faces, all smiling like they'd just stepped out of a glossy magazine.
Her jaw dropped. "Josh," she said slowly, glaring at him. "If this is your idea of passing me new clients, I swear—"
He burst out laughing. "Clients? Please. Do I look like your secretary?"
"Then what—?" She flipped through another photo, incredulous. "Are you serious right now?"
"They're not clients, Mia." Josh leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with mischief. "One of them could be your future husband."
Her head snapped up. "Excuse me?"
He grinned wider, unbothered by the storm brewing in her expression. "They're all my friends. All very eligible. And all of them have been begging me for your number. Every single one is willing to risk their pride just for one date with you."
Mia stared at him, lips parting in disbelief before flattening into a dark scowl. "You can't be serious." She shoved the photos back into the envelope and slid it across the table like it burned her fingers. "How many times do I have to say it? I'm not dating. Not now. Not anyone."
Josh groaned dramatically, snatching the envelope back. "You're impossible."
"I'm surviving," she corrected, crossing her arms.
He tilted his head, studying her for a long beat, his tone softening just a little. "Mia... give yourself a break. Just one date. Just one guy. At least to prove to yourself that you can move on. Or better yet—" His grin returned, sharper now. "—just to make sure Liam Alcaraz finally gets the message and stops hovering around you."
That made her freeze. Her heart stuttered, the envelope suddenly heavier between them.
Josh's words rang louder than the rain outside, louder than the pulse in her ears. Liam Alcaraz.
And for the first time, Mia didn't know if the idea of another man chasing her was a relief... or a reminder of the one man she couldn't quite outrun.
Mia stepped into Richard Vale's office, her brows drawn together as she set her bag down on the chair across from his desk. The morning sun was barely peeking through the tall windows, painting the room in a pale glow that did nothing to ease her unease.
"Why did you summon me here to your office this early, Mr. Vale?" Mia asked the moment she crossed the threshold, her voice edged with curiosity and a hint of suspicion.
Richard looked up from the documents sprawled before him, his expression unreadable. But Mia could tell—something was off. His usual calm, measured demeanor carried a weight this morning, as though the papers on his desk weren't just numbers or contracts, but something far heavier.
Finally, he leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together. "It seems Liam Alcaraz has made a decision," Richard said slowly, carefully measuring every word. "He doesn't just want us to handle his business dealings anymore. He wants us to cater to his... personal affairs as well."
Mia's chest tightened at the sound of that name. Liam Alcaraz. It still cut sharper than she wanted to admit, a name that lived like a scar under her skin. She forced her face into neutrality, but her pulse quickened.
Richard continued, "Last night, he called me directly about a property he intends to acquire out of town. He said he wanted you, specifically, to accompany him in finalizing the deal."
The words landed like a slap. Mia stiffened, her hands curling into fists at her sides before she quickly released them. "I'll have to decline, Sir. That isn't necessary." The refusal slipped out before she could soften it, sharper than she intended.
But Richard's eyes told her more than his silence ever could. He didn't argue, didn't raise his voice, but the way he simply regarded her with that steady, assessing look was reminder enough. Partnership. Future. The position every associate dreamed of—the one dangling just close enough for her to reach, if only she played her cards right.
And right now, those cards meant Liam.
Mia swallowed hard, heat creeping up her neck. She wanted to scream, to tell Vale the truth—that Liam Alcaraz was the last person on earth she wanted to see again, much less work with. That he wasn't just a client, he was a wound she'd buried years ago. But Vale didn't know. He couldn't know. Her personal history with Liam was a secret she had locked away, and the last thing she wanted was for Richard Vale to uncover it.
So she forced herself to nod, though her jaw tightened. "If that's what the client requires," she murmured, her voice clipped.
Inside, though, anger burned hot and bitter. Liam was cornering her again—forcing her into his orbit, jeopardizing everything she had clawed her way toward. He knew exactly what he was doing, and worse, he was making her choose between her pride and her career.
And she hated him for it.
Or at least, she told herself she did.
Mia didn't even remember the walk—only that her feet carried her to the one place she wouldn't be judged. Josh's place. She rang the bell harder than she meant to, and when the door opened, Josh nearly dropped the mug in his hand.
"Mia?" His brows shot up. "It's the middle of the night. Don't tell me you're—"
"Pour me a drink." Her voice was flat, too sharp for the hour. The look on her face made Josh's protest die on his lips.
Minutes later, she was curled up on his couch, hair spilling loose over her shoulders, fingers wrapped tightly around a glass of whiskey. Josh sat across from her, studying her with that familiar mix of curiosity and concern.
Then she looked up, eyes shadowed.
"Josh... can I still choose?"
He blinked. "Choose what?"
"From those photos you gave me," she said quietly. "The men you told me I could pick from. Do I still get to choose one?"
For a heartbeat, Josh was stunned into silence. Then a grin slowly tugged at his lips—the boyish, mischievous one that always made her want to roll her eyes. Without a word, he sprang from the couch, rummaged through a cabinet, and came back with a thick envelope. He sat again, excitement buzzing off him as he spread the glossy photos across the coffee table.
"Well," he said, his grin widening, "it's about time."
Mia scanned the pictures with a careful eye, her fingers hovering before plucking the most striking face from the pile. Her hand lingered on it, and Josh leaned over to see. His brows shot up, followed by a low whistle.
"Damn, Mia. You've got good eyes." His tone was teasing, impressed—but behind it, something unspoken flickered before he masked it with a smile.
For a moment, the air lightened. Two friends, laughing over reckless choices. But then Josh's grin faded. He leaned back, folding his arms.
"Alright," he said quietly. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." The word slipped out too quickly, too sharp. She raised her glass to her lips, avoiding his gaze.
"Mia." His voice dropped—steady, warm, unyielding. "You know you can't lie to me."
Her shoulders tightened. She tried, for one second, to hold it in. But the words came out, bitter and trembling.
"It's Liam."
Josh's jaw ticked, but he stayed silent, waiting.
"He wants to play with me again," she went on, her voice rough with the effort to sound steady. "Like last time wasn't enough. Maybe this time he wants me to beg him. Maybe he's hoping to finally watch me crumble, since he didn't get to last time. He's a jerk, Josh. A cruel, heartless jerk."
Josh exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "Yeah," he said, his voice protective and sharp. "He is."
But then his gaze softened, and he leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. "Mia..." His tone was gentler now, cutting through the bitterness. "I don't think he's playing games. Not this time."
Her eyes snapped to his. "What?"
Josh held her gaze, unflinching. "Maybe this is his way of winning you back."
The words hit harder than she expected. Her breath caught, lips parting as the meaning sank in. For a moment, the room tilted, and she couldn't breathe.
Winning her back? Liam?
Her chest ached, but she forced out a laugh, brittle and sharp. She shook her head, as though the sound alone could break the weight pressing down on her. "That's ridiculous. He's wasting his time, Josh. Because I will never—ever—have him in my life again."
But the tremor in her voice betrayed her, and Josh noticed. He always noticed. His eyes softened with a tenderness that made her pulse stumble, the silence between them heavy and knowing.
He didn't push. He just watched her, patient, steady, as if he knew her heart was already betraying the walls she'd built.
And Mia hated it—hated the way his silence made her realize the war inside her had already begun.
"Are you sure you want me to give your number to Vincent?" Josh asked suddenly, breaking the silence as he stacked the photos back into the envelope.
Mia blinked, her brows knitting. "Who's Vincent?"
Josh gave her a look, half amused, half exasperated. "The one you just picked, genius. He's a good friend of mine—and trust me, he's a catch. Comes from a wealthy family, solid reputation, not the type to play games. I'm telling you, you'd never regret going on a date with him."
Heat rushed to Mia's cheeks before she could stop it. "Oh." She cleared her throat, suddenly very interested in her glass.
Josh smirked at her reaction, leaning back into the couch with that boyish grin that always made him look like he knew more than he let on.
"I—I'm sorry," Mia stammered. "I know I wasn't ready to go on a date. But... maybe you were right. Maybe I need this." She lifted her chin, forcing the words out with a brightness she didn't feel. "It's about time I enjoy my life as a single woman."
The declaration hung in the air, bold but trembling at the edges. Even as she said it, the words tasted bitter on her tongue, like she was trying to convince herself more than him.
Josh's smirk softened into something quieter, his gaze lingering on her longer than it should have. "Yeah," he said finally, voice low. "Maybe it is."
But the way he said it made her heart stutter—because it didn't sound like he was talking about Vincent at all.
"Okay, fine," Mia finally said, throwing her hands up in defeat. "Give him my number. And don't worry—I'll try my best to be sweet and civil."
Josh leaned back on the couch, eyes narrowing as a mischievous grin curved his lips. Then, suddenly, he laughed—loud, genuine, and a little too amused for her liking.
"What's so funny?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"Sweet and civil?" Josh chuckled, shaking his head. "Mia, it's just a date, not a deposition. You don't have to argue your case or wear that intimidating corporate armor of yours. For once, just... relax. Dress like the Mia I used to know. The one who used to laugh too loud and drink iced coffee at midnight. Be her."
Mia rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched against her will. "I have no idea who that girl even is anymore."
Josh's grin softened, his gaze lingering on her longer than usual. "I do," he said quietly. "And trust me—she's unforgettable."
Her breath caught, but before she could respond, Josh had already grabbed his phone, humming as he typed something. Within seconds, Vincent had her number.