The next morning, Mia groaned as her phone buzzed endlessly on the nightstand. She buried her head under the pillow, but the vibration wouldn't stop. Finally, she grabbed it, squinting against the screen's glare.
Missed calls. Multiple.
And texts. Lots of them.
From an unknown number.
"Oh, God," she muttered, thumbing through them. The first message began with: Hi Mia, this is Vincent. Josh gave me your number. I hope you don't mind.
She dropped her phone back onto the bed and flopped onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "And this," she whispered to herself, "is why I hate dating."
She ignored him at first, forcing herself into her usual morning routine—shower, coffee, the familiar rhythm of solitude. But as she sat down with her breakfast, her phone chimed again. Another text. And then another.
Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she typed a short reply.
Good morning, Vincent. Thank you for reaching out.
She barely had time to put the phone down before it rang. This time, she didn't even hesitate—she answered, if only to stop the buzzing.
"Mia?" Vincent's voice was clear, confident, but with an edge of nervous energy. "I'm sorry. I know I've been... persistent. I just wanted to make sure—you do want to go out with me, right?"
Mia nearly laughed at his straightforwardness. "Of course, I do," she said lightly, though the words felt strange on her tongue. "But I'm very busy right now. I'll let you know when I'm available. I hope that's alright with you."
There was a pause, then an explosion of enthusiasm on the other end.
"Yes! That's more than alright! I'll wait for your message."
Mia pulled the phone away slightly, wincing at the sheer volume of his excitement.
"Mia," he went on, his voice softer now, almost earnest, "I've wanted to ask you out ever since I saw you with Josh at his company's anniversary party. You looked so beautiful that night, but you didn't even say hi to me. I thought you didn't notice me."
Mia blinked, caught off guard.
"I don't care if it takes weeks, months—I'll wait as long as it takes just to have one date with you."
Her breath hitched, and for a moment she didn't know what to say. His sincerity was disarming, sweet even. But the weight of his words pressed against her chest in a way she wasn't ready for.
"Alright, Vincent," she murmured finally. "We'll see."
After the call ended, she set her phone on the table and let out a long sigh. Then, half-laughing, half-groaning, she buried her face in her hands.
"What have I gotten myself into?" she whispered.
But even as she tried to shake it off, her mind betrayed her. Instead of Vincent's eager voice, it was Liam's that echoed in her head—low, smooth, infuriatingly certain. She hated that she could still remember the exact timbre of it, the way he used to say her name like a challenge and a promise all at once.
She pushed her plate away untouched, staring at her phone as if it held the answers. Vincent was safe—polite, respectful, someone who wanted her without games. A stranger, yes, but at least with him, she wouldn't have to worry about old wounds reopening.
So why did her chest still ache? Why, after saying yes, did she feel like she was lying to herself?
Her thoughts tangled into knots she couldn't undo. Every reason to move forward only circled back to Liam—to the way he had shattered her once and the way, against her will, her heart still remembered.
Mia groaned, pressing her palms against her face. Maybe Josh was right. Maybe she needed to try. But as she stood and reached for her bag, her reflection in the kitchen mirror caught her off guard.
Her eyes.
That flicker of something she couldn't name.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't erase the truth—she could agree to meet Vincent, even smile through it. But she couldn't stop the storm of thoughts that belonged to someone else entirely.
And that someone was Liam Alcaraz.
Good news, Mr. Alcaraz," Anabel announced the moment she stepped gracefully into his office, a stack of neatly arranged folders in her hands. Her eyes sparkled with triumph. "I just found a property that meets every single requirement you asked for."
Liam, who had been hunched over a thick pile of contracts, immediately straightened. The stern crease between his brows softened, and he looked at her with genuine interest. "You did?" He reached for the photos she slid across his desk, brows lifting as he studied the images. "Wow. I can't believe you actually found this place, Anabel."
Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "The agent is expecting you this weekend. He'll walk you through the grounds personally."
Liam flipped to the next photograph—an aerial shot that revealed acres of green sprawling toward the horizon, the kind of view that whispered of both power and serenity. His mouth curved faintly, a rare smile tugging at his lips.
"And there's more," Anabel added, unable to hide her pride. "There's a private airport just a short drive away if you want to fly in with your jet. And the property itself? It comes with its own helipad. Security and convenience rolled into one."
Liam looked up, his eyes holding a flicker of warmth. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Anabel," he murmured, the sincerity in his tone softening the sharp edges of his voice.
She laughed lightly, placing a hand on her hip. "You'd be in chaos, that's what. Have you seen the faces of your other executive assistants every time I tell them I'm taking a vacation leave? Pure panic. They act like you'll breathe fire if they don't get your coffee order right."
Liam arched a brow, feigning offense. "Am I really that bad to work with?"
Anabel tilted her head, pretending to think it over. "Actually, no. I like working for you. But..." she smirked, leaning in slightly, "those girls aren't intimidated by you the way they pretend to be. They just want more chances to look at you outside of these four walls. They don't want to face the CEO who barks orders nonstop. They just want to swoon over the man with the face that belongs on the cover of GQ."
Liam groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, though his lips twitched as if he were fighting a smile. "Is that so? Well, that explains the sudden spike in assistants who mysteriously 'volunteer' for overtime."
"Exactly." Anabel chuckled, clearly enjoying herself.
She gathered the photos back into a neat pile, then glanced at her planner. "By the way, don't forget—you've got dinner with Glydel this Friday."
Liam's eyes flicked away, his smile dimming, though he nodded. "Of course." His voice was quieter now, almost distant.
Anabel didn't miss the subtle change, but she didn't press. She knew better than to pry when Liam wore that look—the one where his gaze clouded like he was somewhere far away, in a memory he rarely shared.
He leaned back in his chair, letting the photos rest against his chest before setting them aside. Glydel. He could never say no to her. Nor to her parents, who had long tied their family's future to his. She was comfort, familiarity—a piece of his past he couldn't shake. They had grown close during those years abroad, when he'd been forced to leave everything he knew behind after high school.
For a moment, his lips curved into a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He gave a small shake of his head, forcing the thoughts away, and bent over the documents on his desk. Business. Always business. It was safer that way.
"Mr. Vale," Mia said, raising her head the instant she heard the soft knock against her office door.
Richard Vale leaned casually against the frame, though there was something in his posture—controlled, deliberate—that made her straighten in her chair.
"Mia, do you have a minute?" he asked, his tone light.
She blinked, caught off guard, before letting out a small laugh. "You're my boss, and you're asking me if I have a minute?" Her brows arched, half amused, half incredulous.
His lips curved at that, the kind of easy chuckle that always seemed to ripple warmth through the room. But it lasted only a moment. His smile faded, replaced with something far more serious.
And just like that, Mia's amusement drained. Her pulse quickened, her laughter dying in her throat. That shift in his face—calm melting into something weightier, something unreadable—was enough to make her heart race.
Richard Vale was rarely shaken, rarely solemn without reason. Which only meant one thing.
Whatever he was about to say... it mattered.
"Mr. Alcaraz's secretary just called," Richard Vale said, stepping further into Mia's office with his usual calm authority. His gaze was steady, unreadable. "She informed me that you'll be flying with him on his private plane this weekend. You'll need to prepare an overnight bag with your things."
For a moment, Mia forgot how to breathe. Words deserted her, leaving her mouth slightly parted as her mind scrambled for a response. Finally, she managed the smallest nod, her throat dry.
She knew arguing with Vale was pointless. Once—if—she secured her place as an official partner of the firm, she'd have the freedom to refuse assignments that blurred too close to her past. But right now? She was still bound by his decisions. Bound to Liam Alcaraz's orbit, whether she wanted it or not.
Her pulse quickened with irritation. Liam was doing a spectacular job reminding her who held the upper hand. Reminding her, once again, how stark the difference was between his glittering world and her own carefully guarded one.
"Of course," Mia said at last, her voice quiet but steady. She forced a professional smile, though her knuckles whitened where her hands clenched on her desk. "Don't worry, Mr. Vale. I'll take good care of his account."
Richard studied her for a long moment before exhaling softly. A trace of a smile tugged at his lips. "Good luck, Atty. Villaruiz." His tone shifted, lighter now, teasing at the edges. "And... if I may say so, I think you might be exactly what Mr. Alcaraz is looking for. He couldn't seem to stop mentioning your name. I'd say he's a little charmed by you."
The words landed like sparks against her skin. Heat flooded her cheeks before she could school her expression, and she quickly lowered her gaze to her papers.
Richard chuckled under his breath at her reaction, then left her office, the echo of his footsteps fading down the hall.
Alone again, Mia pressed her hand against her chest as if to calm the wild rhythm there. She had dealt with clients who complimented her looks before, some who even attempted to flirt. She had learned to handle it with sharp professionalism, never allowing herself to be rattled.
But this... this was different.
Because Richard wasn't wrong. The idea of Liam Alcaraz being charmed by her—of him deliberately pulling her closer under the guise of business—sent her heart racing in ways she hated. And the mere thought of being trapped with him in the intimate silence of a private plane, close enough to hear his voice without the buffer of an office or a crowd, was enough to make her entire body tremble with anticipation she refused to admit.
Anger and longing twisted inside her, a dangerous mix she couldn't quite shake off. Liam Alcaraz was trouble. He always had been. And yet, against every ounce of logic she possessed, the thought of him flirting with her again... made her feel weak in a way that terrified her.