The private car was already waiting at the airport, sleek and black against the morning light. The driver reached for the handle, but Liam waved him off.
"I'll drive," he said, his tone clipped in that effortless way that left no room for argument.
Mia slid into the passenger seat reluctantly, clutching her bag as though it could shield her from him. The leather interior smelled faintly of his cologne—wood, spice, danger—and she had to stare out the window just to breathe.
The drive stretched out, the city giving way to rolling green hills until, finally, the world opened into a breathtaking lake. The water gleamed silver beneath the sun, flanked by towering trees that seemed to cradle the secluded property in their arms. The house itself rose elegantly from the shore—modern lines softened by nature, glass walls reflecting sky and water.
Mia's chest tightened. She fell in love instantly, though she bit the inside of her cheek to keep the words from spilling out. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Not after everything.
Still, Liam noticed. Of course he did. His lips curved in the faintest smirk, though his eyes held something softer, unguarded. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
She forced her gaze away. "It's... fine." But her voice betrayed her, hushed with awe.
Inside, the agent greeted them, papers ready. "Since all that's left is to finalize the documents, Mr. Alcaraz, the property now legally belongs to you. Consider it yours."
Liam nodded, sharp and businesslike, while Mia's heart gave a traitorous flutter. This wasn't just a tour. This was his place now. His lake house. His silence pressed on her, and for once, she didn't have the strength to break it with barbs.
They explored the property together. No banter, no sharp remarks. Just quiet footsteps through sunlit rooms, the soft sound of wind stirring leaves outside.
The glass walls opened to a deck overlooking the lake, where Mia trailed her fingers along the railing, her hair lifting in the breeze. Liam watched her from behind, his throat tightening, his chest heavy with memories of another time when silence between them had meant something tender.
"Mr. Alcaraz, as you instructed, I ordered food for your lunch. Enjoy your meal," the agent said with a polite smile before slipping out, leaving the lake house wrapped in a silence that was anything but calm.
Mia shifted in her seat, pretending to study the rustic beams above the dining table, the untouched dishes lined up like a feast between them. Liam didn't move, didn't even glance at the food. He only leaned back in his chair, gaze pinned on her with that unnerving intensity—like he was still replaying the almost-kiss on the jet, the one that had nearly burned them both alive.
Her throat tightened. She needed air, distance, anything but this oppressive silence. "You didn't need to bring me here, Mr. Alcaraz," she said at last, her tone clipped. "Your agent could have sent me the papers. I could've checked everything from my office."
"True." His voice was smooth, too smooth, the kind of calm that concealed sparks underneath. He leaned forward, forearms braced on the table, eyes locked onto hers. "But I didn't ask you to come just for the papers."
Her chest hitched. "Then why?"
He didn't flinch. Didn't blink. His gaze was unrelenting. "Because you're not just a good lawyer, Mia. You have an instinct. A way of seeing through things. I wanted your opinion about this place."
Her pulse stumbled, but she forced her expression into cool neutrality. "You don't need my instincts to buy a house, Mr. Alcaraz. You've managed just fine without me all these years."
Liam's lips curved, deliberate and slow, a dangerous smile that was equal parts taunt and temptation. His eyes dipped briefly to her mouth before finding her gaze again. "Maybe. But there are some things only you see." His voice lowered, threaded with something intimate. "Some things only you could ever understand."
Her breath caught, but she recovered quickly, spine snapping straighter. "This isn't about understanding. This is business."
"Business?" Liam tilted his head, his smirk deepening, wicked and knowing. "Is that what you tell yourself every time you can't hold my gaze for more than five seconds?"
Heat flared up her neck, pooling at her cheeks. "Don't flatter yourself. I avoid eye contact with people I find... insufferable."
"Insufferable?" He laughed, low and husky, the sound rippling across the table like smoke. "That's interesting. Because from where I sat on that jet, insufferable felt a hell of a lot like wanting me to close the gap."
Mia's fingers clenched in her lap, her voice breaking sharper than she intended. "That was nothing. A mistake. And don't you dare twist it into anything else."
He leaned closer across the table, wine glass forgotten, eyes dark and locked onto hers. "A mistake you nearly begged me to make."
Her heart stuttered, anger and heat colliding inside her. She forced a brittle smile, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You really are arrogant, Mr. Alcaraz."
"And you," he murmured, voice husky, raw, laced with danger, "really are lying through those pretty lips of yours."
The silence that followed was thick, charged, alive with everything they wouldn't say.
Mia tore her gaze toward the wide glass windows, forcing herself to focus on the calm stretch of the lake instead of the storm raging between them. But she could still feel him—his stare like heat on her skin, the gravity of him pulling her closer no matter how tightly she clung to her denial.
Her nails dug crescents into her palms, her chest rising and falling unevenly. She hated him. She wanted him. And God help her—she didn't know which burned hotter.
"I just can't believe it," Mia burst out, her fork clattering against the plate as she glared at him across the table. "You turned into a playboy. Flirting with me when you already have a girlfriend." Her voice cracked on the last word, sharper than she intended, anger and something far more dangerous threading through.
Liam's brows arched, genuine confusion flashing across his face before a slow, maddening laugh escaped him. He leaned back in his chair, his arm draping lazily across the backrest as though her fury was little more than entertainment.
"Girlfriend?" His lips curved, deliberate and taunting. "Mia, I don't do the girlfriend thing." He let the words hang heavy, his eyes locked on hers, daring her to look away. Then, with that slow, lethal smile, he added, "And Glydel? She's just someone I enjoyed having casual dates with."
Mia's chest tightened. Relief shot through her so fast it stung—but it was smothered instantly by rage. Her stomach turned at the smug ease of his tone, at the way he said it like it meant nothing. Like women—like her—meant nothing.
"You're disgusting," she snapped, though the sharpness she wanted was drowned out by the tremor in her voice.
Liam leaned forward, slow, deliberate, bracing his elbows on the table. His gaze dragged across her face, lingered at her mouth, then climbed back to her eyes with an intensity that made her throat dry.
"No, Mia," he said softly, dangerously. "What's disgusting... is that you're relieved."
Her breath hitched. "What?"
"You heard me." His voice was velvet over steel. "Your pulse gave you away. You wanted me to deny it. You wanted me to say she wasn't mine. And now that I have..." His lips curved, wicked, knowing. "You're sitting there hating yourself because you're glad."
Her knuckles whitened around her glass. "You're insufferable."
"And yet..." He tilted his head, his voice dropping lower, thicker with heat. "You can't stop looking at me."
Her chest rose sharply, her heart slamming against her ribs. "That's not true."
Liam's smirk deepened as he leaned closer, his words curling against her skin like smoke. "Then tell me why you flushed when I said Glydel wasn't my girlfriend. Tell me why your breath caught on the jet when I leaned in." His eyes darkened, his voice huskier now. "Tell me why, Mia, you didn't move when I was this close—" He lifted his hand, stopping just short of touching her cheek, his breath ghosting over her lips. "—like you wanted it too."
Mia's eyes blazed, fury and fire colliding. "I didn't—"
"Yes, you did." His jaw tightened, his voice raw, almost breaking. "You didn't stop me. You didn't pull away. You sat there trembling like you remembered. Like you still want it."
Silence stretched, molten and unbearable. Her hand shook on the glass stem, betraying her. She hated it. Hated him. Hated herself more.
Liam's gaze flicked down to her mouth again, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rasp. "You can pretend all you want. Call me arrogant, insufferable, heartless. But the truth, Mia?" He leaned so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips. "You still want me. And you hate yourself for it."
Her chest heaved, her pulse pounding so hard she thought it might break free. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to scream, to break, to melt—all at once.
Her laugh came brittle, sharp, desperate. "You're wrong. Any woman can let a man get close without feeling a damn thing. Just like men do every day."
Liam froze, her words slicing deep. For a moment, his smirk faltered, replaced by a dangerous glint in his eyes. He sat back slowly, but his gaze never softened, never wavered.
His jaw flexed. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, guttural, thick with warning. "Careful, Mia. You're playing with fire."
"And you," she whispered, her voice trembling even as her eyes locked defiantly onto his, "are not the fire I want."
Mia's fork clattered against her plate, her chest heaving as if the words were ripping out of her one by one. Her voice shook, but she forced it to steady, her gaze locked on him with fire that threatened to consume them both.
"You really think after everything you did to me, I could still want you?" she demanded, her voice sharp but threaded with the ache of old wounds. "I am not that same girl anymore, Liam. You made damn sure of that."
Liam froze, the easy smirk dying on his lips.
"You turned me into a joke," she pressed on, her words slicing clean through the air. "A piece on your chessboard. A pawn. You knew how I felt—you knew how much it cost me to trust you—and still, you chose to make a fool out of me. You had every other girl at the academy begging for your attention, ready to be your toy. But no—you picked me. The one girl stupid enough to believe you. You picked the outcast. And I hate you for that.
Her voice broke, just barely, but she pushed through it, eyes shimmering as she fought the tears burning at the edges. "I gave you everything I could. And at least I was honest with myself. I didn't hide. I didn't pretend. I loved you. And I never played with anyone else. Not once."
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.
Liam's jaw tightened, his throat working as though the words lodged there like glass. He'd faced boardrooms, men twice his age trying to break him, but nothing had ever cut like this. Hearing her pain aloud—laid bare, unvarnished—made him feel like the lowest kind of bastard.