It was Friday evening, and Mia was still simmering with frustration. Liam Alcaraz had spent the entire week testing her limits—cornering her in meetings, making demands through Vale, and somehow always finding a way to remind her that in his world, he called the shots. The thought alone made her chest tighten with anger.
So, in a moment of defiance, she picked up her phone. Her fingers hovered for a second before she typed out a short, impulsive message to Vincent. Dinner tonight?
His reply came within seconds—too eager, too bright—and before she could second-guess herself, she agreed.
Now, sitting across from him at one of the city's most exclusive restaurants, Mia had to admit she was impressed. Vincent had chosen the perfect place, warm and elegant without being overbearing. He pulled her chair out when she sat, ordered wine without assumption, and his manners were polished without feeling forced.
He was easy to like. Safe. Kind. Even charming in a way that should have put her at ease. And yet...
There was no spark.
She smiled at his stories, laughed politely at his jokes, and found herself liking him—but only as a friend. His sweetness stirred gratitude in her chest, but not the kind of dangerous pull she hated herself for still associating with Liam.
They were halfway through dinner when the atmosphere shifted.
The doors to the restaurant opened, and Mia's fork stilled halfway to her lips. Her entire body went cold, her breath catching in her throat.
Liam.
He strode inside with the kind of presence that drew every gaze in the room, tall and confident, power clinging to him like a second skin. But it wasn't just him that made her heart stumble.
A woman was on his arm. Beautiful. Young. Sophisticated in a way that made it clear she belonged in his world. She wore her elegance like armor, her hand linked through Liam's as though it had always belonged there.
The sight pierced something inside Mia. She should have been happy. Relieved, even. Hadn't she told herself over and over that she didn't want him? That she hated him? That she'd moved on?
Then why did it feel like betrayal to see him with someone else? Why did her chest ache with something sharp and forbidden?
"Are you okay? You suddenly looked pale, Mia." Vincent's gentle voice pulled her back. His brows knit in concern, his hand pausing on the table.
Mia forced her lips into a smile, summoning sweetness she didn't feel. "I'm fine," she murmured, and leaned closer, her shoulder brushing his.
Vincent blinked, startled, then flushed crimson at the sudden proximity. His pulse visibly jumped in his throat, and Mia caught the innocent awe in his eyes.
But her reasons weren't innocent.
She hadn't let Vincent hold her hand when he picked her up earlier. She'd kept a polite distance, careful not to give him the wrong impression. But now—now, with Liam's shadow pressing into every corner of the restaurant—she suddenly wanted to lace her fingers with Vincent's, to smile too brightly, to laugh too sweetly.
Not for Vincent's sake.
But to make a point. To prove to Liam Alcaraz that she was not the girl he could still shatter with one look.
Even if, deep down, she already knew it was a lie.
Liam had walked into the restaurant with his usual composure, his hand linked with Glydel's as cameras from curious diners tracked his every move. To anyone watching, he looked every inch the powerful CEO with the perfect woman on his arm—untouchable, in control.
But then his gaze fell on her.
Mia.
For a heartbeat, the world tilted. The clink of glasses, the quiet hum of conversation—everything faded into a muffled blur. She was there, sitting across from Vincent.
Vincent.
Liam's jaw tightened. Of all people. He knew Vincent well—Glydel's cousin. A man he had always regarded as decent, respectful, the kind who never sought trouble or chased clout. If anyone had asked him yesterday, Liam would have said he liked Vincent. Trusted him, even.
But tonight, watching him lean forward with that boyish grin, while Mia tilted closer, her smile brighter than it had any right to be... Liam's blood boiled.
He wanted to break something.
No—he wanted to break him.
Heat surged through his veins, his hand twitching with the impulse to march across the room and remind Vincent that Mia Villaruiz was not someone he could touch. Not now. Not ever.
But Liam didn't move.
He forced his fists to unclench, forced his jaw to relax, forced the mask back onto his face. Years of boardroom wars had trained him well—never let the world see your cracks.
So instead, he smiled. Smooth. Controlled. But it didn't reach his eyes.
Because from across the room, he saw the way Mia shifted the instant she realized he was there. Her laughter grew a little too sharp, her smile a little too bright. She leaned closer to Vincent, her shoulder brushing his as though she had nothing to hide.
It wasn't for Vincent. It was for him.
A message. A dare.
And damn it, Liam understood.
She wanted him to believe she was unaffected. That she could move on. That she didn't need him.
But he knew her too well. He caught the slight tremor in her hand as she lifted her glass, the fraction-of-a-second hesitation before she leaned closer. He knew what was real and what was performance.
It should have amused him. Instead, it burned straight through his chest.
His grip on Glydel's hand tightened unconsciously, and guilt stabbed at him immediately. Glydel didn't deserve this—didn't deserve to be dragged into the silent war raging between him and Mia. She had been his comfort once, the safe choice when his world was chaos. And now he was using her as a weapon in a battle she didn't even know she was part of.
Damn it, Mia.
He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. If she wanted to play this game, he would play too.
He angled his body just enough for Mia to see him clearly. Then, deliberately, he brushed his thumb over Glydel's hand where it rested against his arm—subtle, measured, but intentional.
And when Mia's gaze finally met his, the air between them crackled.
He gave her a look that was infuriating and intoxicating all at once.
Challenge.
Possession.
And something dangerously close to longing.
It was reckless. Petty. Exactly the opposite of the man he swore he wanted to be now.
But in that moment, all Liam cared about was reminding her—she wasn't the only one who could make a point.
Still, as his chest tightened and guilt pressed heavier with every second, one truth gnawed at him relentlessly.
He didn't want anyone else on his arm.
Not Glydel. Not anyone.
He only wanted Mia.
"Liam," Glydel leaned in, her voice bright and expectant, her eyes sparkling with the kind of enthusiasm only family could summon. "We should go say hello to my cousin Vincent... and his gorgeous date!"
Liam's jaw ticked. Of course she would say that. The last thing he wanted was to stand here, tethered by Glydel's hand, watching Mia play house across the room. With Vincent of all people.
"If that's what you'd like," he replied smoothly, though his chest burned. His voice was silk, his expression calm, but beneath the surface, every muscle in his body coiled with fire.
They crossed the room together, heads turning as the powerful pair moved through the restaurant like a tide parting the sea. Vincent lit up the moment he spotted them, half-standing from his chair with boyish delight.
"Glydel!" he exclaimed, leaning in to greet her with an affectionate hug before turning to Liam. "And Liam—what a surprise!"
Then, with a grin so wide it nearly split his face, Vincent gestured to his side. "And this... is Mia. My date tonight."
Mia's smile was perfect—sweet, poised, a portrait of grace. But Liam saw it. The flicker of triumph in her eyes, sharp as a blade. A silent declaration: Look at me. Look who I chose.
She leaned in closer to Vincent, her hand brushing his arm with calculated ease, as though it belonged there.
Liam's lips curved into a slow, practiced smile. He adjusted his hold on Glydel's hand, pulling her just a fraction nearer, his thumb grazing her skin in a deliberate show. His voice dropped silkier, darker, aimed like an arrow. "Pleasure to see you, Vincent." His eyes slid, razor-sharp, to Mia. "And... your date."
Mia tilted her head, her lashes lowering to shield the storm brewing in her gaze. "Mr. Alcaraz." Her voice was clipped, polite—dangerously polite. "What an unexpected surprise."
"Oh! You must join us." Vincent's enthusiasm overflowed as he gestured to the empty seats at their table. "It'll be fun—family, friends, catching up. Please, sit."
Mia nearly choked on her wine. Of course he did.
Liam didn't miss a beat. "How thoughtful of you, Vincent," he drawled, his hand brushing over Glydel's arm with the ease of a lover's caress. His gaze cut to Mia as his smirk sharpened. "We'd be delighted."
The air turned molten as they sat, the two couples facing each other across a battlefield disguised as linen and crystal. Smiles sharpened into weapons, every gesture a strike, every glance a parry.
Vincent, blissfully oblivious, carried on brightly. "Mia was just telling me about her work—she's brilliant, you know."
"I'm aware," Liam said smoothly, his voice low and unwavering. His eyes never left Mia's.
Mia's fingers tightened around her wineglass, her knuckles pale. She smiled—sweet as poison. "Not everyone seems to remember that."
"Oh, I remember." Liam leaned back, casual, lethal. His gaze dipped, deliberately lingering on her hand resting on Vincent's arm. His smirk curved, dark and knowing. "Quite clearly."
Mia's chest tightened, but she refused to break eye contact. She tipped her glass against her lips, the faintest quiver betraying her.
Vincent laughed, cutting through the tension like a fool stepping into fire. "Well, I'd say I'm lucky tonight." He turned to Mia, his expression open, adoring. "She really is extraordinary."
Heat flushed across Mia's cheeks, softening her composure. For the first time that evening, her smile turned genuine, small but real.
Liam's jaw flexed at the sight, his grip tightening imperceptibly around his glass. He swirled the wine with deliberate calm, though his eyes burned with a look that said, this isn't over.
"Isn't this wonderful?" Glydel chimed in cheerfully, her smile oblivious to the daggers flying across the table. "Family, business, and new friendships."
"Wonderful," Mia echoed, her voice honey-laced with venom. She leaned a fraction closer to Vincent, her eyes locked on Liam's like a challenge. "Absolutely wonderful."
And for one dangerous moment, Liam nearly laughed—low, sharp, amused at the absurdity of it all. Because this dinner had become exactly what he'd feared.
And exactly what he wanted.