She awoke to the scent of lemon and a faint hint of mint. Something warm and solid was beneath her cheek. She was breathing beside him.
Her eyes fluttered open. No.
Her head was resting on his tanned chest, her arm draped across his torso like she was his emotional support girlfriend. His arm was loosely curled around her waist, anchoring her in place.
Oh no. No no no no!
The memories hit her like a soft, sensual, toe-curling freight train. The kiss. The towel. The bed.
Oh, what else has she done?
She sat up abruptly, holding the blanket against her chest. She looked around the room like it might offer some escape hatch. But all she saw was his shirt on the chair, her bra dangling from the bedside lamp, and Liam fast asleep, peaceful, and sinfully handsome.
Even unconscious, the man looked like an advertisement for cologne called Trouble.
"It was the wine." she whispered softly, trying to clear her head. "Maybe Robert put something in my drink."
As if summoned by guilt and dramatic irony, her phone lit up on the bedside table.
6 missed calls- Robert
And a text:
{10:03 AM} Good morning sunshine! looking forward to our hangout. There's a lovely cafe near the beach. I got us a spot!
No way!
She glanced at Liam again. Still sleeping, one hand splayed across the pillow like he was dreaming of spreadsheets or stock reports. Carefully, she slipped out of bed like a burglar escaping a crime scene. She grabbed her dress from the chair, stuffed her bra into her purse, and tiptoed to the door.
Her fingers hovered on the handle. She paused. Peered over her shoulder.
All cleared.
He hadn't moved. His chest rose and fell slowly. He looked too peaceful to have a fake girlfriend running off to meet a man named Robert.
I'll call my parents later.
She dashed out, hair in a disheveled knot, heels in one hand, like a woman who had just survived a romantic disaster.
The place was beautiful. Perched near the beach, sunlight streamed in through arched windows, casting a golden hue across wooden tables and tiny potted plants. There was acoustic guitar playing softly in the background, couples laughing lightly filled the air.
She stumbled in like a human hurricane. Robert stood as she approached, smiling warmly. Sleeves rolled up neatly, and a clean look.
"You look great!"
"Thanks,"
She dropped to the seat, and smiled. "How're you?"
He laughed. "Now that I see you, I'm great."
What was she doing? Sitting across from a man her father clearly admired, after spending the night with her boss who made her insides tingle.
Robert handed her a menu, "Coffee? Tea? Whisky?"
"Coffee please, nothing fancy."
He smiled again. "You're funny than I expected."
"You expected me to be serious?"
"More corporate. Like Liam."
Her smile faded the moment he said his name. Her phone buzzed. She peeked, just to distract herself.
Mum
Why did you leave without saying goodbye? Liam cooked breakfast."
She sighed.
Liam cooked? For people?
"Something wrong?" Robert asked. "I shouldn't have mentioned him."
"No! Everything's perfect."
She realized Robert was charming, attentive and open-minded. If she hadn't allowed Liam to storm in with his hazel eyes and magnetic presence, Robert would have been.. something more.
"You know, I was thinking if we could do this again. Properly and less chaotic?"
Just then, another text lit up.
Jules:
Girl! Liam cooked! He was wearing an apron. Your mum took a pic! Were all dead!
Her face paled. She was in trouble.
She hadn't slept much the night before, thanks to a looping mental slideshow: Liam cooking breakfast, Liam kissing her.
She wore black like she was going to burial. The goal? Invisible like her Mondays.
She barely made it to her desk when Amber rolled her chair over, already chewing gum like it owed her money.
"Well, well, well," she drawled. "Look who's here. You missed the boss's morning rounds."
"Morning rounds?" she sat comfortably. "He's the boss, not a Knight."
"He walks, inspects and oh," she leaned in, "He looked around a lot. Like searching."
Sophie smiled. "Maybe he dropped a pen."
"Sure. Or maybe he dropped you off a cliff and wants to see if you survived."
Before she could reply, the office buzzed. Liam was coming down their wing.
"Not clear," She hissed, launching herself behind an empty chair, pretending to rummage through files.
Amber stared down at her. "Are you seriously hiding?"
"Shh, he might have an X-ray vision."
Liam passed, his tall frame neat as always, sleeves rolled with exact precision. His eyes scanned slowly across the room.
She didn't breath until his footsteps faded.
Just as the day was finally winding down, and was fantasizing about slipping out undetected, a neatly dressed assistance from HR walked to her.
"Miss Blake? Mr. Carter would like to see you in his office immediately."
Amber grabbed her arm before she could leave. "Be careful!"
She trudged to his office like it was a dungeon, whispering a last prayer. Then knocked once, heart banging faster than her hand.
"Come in."
She opened the glass door.
Liam was sitting behind his desk. When he looked up, she felt the ground wobble.
He didn't smile.
Holy cow.
"Sophie," he said smoothly, "You've been hiding from me."
She squared her shoulders, chin lifting.
"Yes, I have,"
He arched a brow. "Why?"
"Because our deal has ended."
He didn't move. But something flickered across his face, gone as fast as he came.
"I thought I was helping."
"You did, and I thank you for it."
He walked around the desk slowly, and she took a step back.
"Are you scared of what we might become?"
Her pulse pounded. "You said it before, that I'm not your type."
"And yet, " he said, eyes burning to hers, "every time I touch you, I nearly forget myself."
Her lips parted, speechless. His hand reached, slow and brushed her jaw with the back of his fingers.
She shivered.
"When we made love, I wasn't acting."
No, don't.
His hands dropped, his jaw clenched, and he went back to his seat.
"That's all for now, Miss Blake."
"I'll keep things professional from now on."
And then, she turned and left.
The garden was located on a still lake that reflected in the sky, hanging like a painting. Lanterns swayed gently from tree branches, casting golden light over white-clothed tables.
She had to admit that Robert knew how to plan a date.
He looked charming in a blue sweater, and those amused eyes that seemed to find her curious puzzle worth solving. "You've got this spark, Sophie and i like it."
She laughed, "That's not spark, it's anxiety."
He chuckled. "Very well, then."
She smiled warmly, enjoying the calm atmosphere.
"Am I interrupting something?"
The voice cut through the evening air like a storm cloud. She froze. Liam was standing a few feet away.
Robert turned around just as he walked around them.
"Hey, mind if I talk to her for a moment?"
Her mouth parted, and her heart drummed. Robert stood, sensing the energy shift. "I think I'll give you two a minute."
"Robert, wait-" she tried to stop him, but he raised a hand and left.
She turned to Liam, fury bubbling up. "You ruined my date!"
He shrugged, taking the seat Robert vacated. "Your dad's friend from China?"
"It's none of your business."
"Well, it's my business now. Since we're already tangled in this mess, it's time for you to return the favor."
"What do you want?"
He leaned closer, enough for his breath to fan her cheeks. "You're coming with me to a family event. We'll keep the fake relationship going. You owe me that much."
She laughed. "I told you in your office, the deal is over. You agreed."
"I lied," he said bluntly. "You used me, now it's my turn."
He smiled. "I'll pick you up in the morning for rehearsal."
Rehearsal?
He turned and left, leaving her wondering if he was out of his mind.
She stared out the car window as Liam drove in his private car, the city giving way to tree-lined streets and quiet neighborhoods.
When the car finally turned to a curved driveway, her mouth parted slightly. Liam's house was not what she expected. Not flashy. Not a glass tower or some ultra-modern bachelor creation. Instead, It was cozy, soft lights from within, like something out of a countryside magazine.
She had barely stepped into the house before she was greeted by a blur of gold and wet nose. The golden retriever nearly bowled over her, his tongue hot against her cheek as she laughed and tried to hold her balance.
"Thor!" Liam called, barely stifling a smile as he leaned in the doorway. "Down buddy,"
The dog sat obediently but kept his eyes on her like she was a price bone.
"So adorable."
"He's a good judge of character," Liam said, his gaze lingering on her a second too long. The place was warm, walls painted, a mix of leather furniture and soft throw pillows. Low shelves filled with real books and family photos, and soft jazz record played in the background like the house had a soul of it own.
"If we're going to pull off this 'fake couple' act," he said as he hung up his coat, "I want you to feel like this place is familiar. Like it's part of your life too."
She nodded, slipping off her heels to explore, her fingers brushing the edge of the hall table lined with frame pictures. She wandered slowly, eyes flicking from one photo to another, curiosity growing with each step. Most of the doors were shut, but one at the end of the hall stood slightly ajar. Something about it tugged at her.
Inside, the air was quieter as she peeked in.
An elderly woman lay on a large bed, her breathing shallow, an oxygen tube under her nose. Soft beeps and the slow hum of machine filled the air.
"What are you doing?"
She turned to see a young woman appeared at the door.
"I'm sorry. I was just down the hall. I'm Sophie.'
"You probably shouldn't be in here."
She nodded, apologized and left. She found Liam in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, hair tousled, he was stirring something on fire.
"Done with exploring?" he asked, and smiled.
She folded her arms. "I saw someone in the other room."
He turned slightly, catching her gaze. "You shouldn't have seen that."
"What happened?"
"That's my grandma. My dad died when I was nineteen. Heart failure. My mom couldn't cope and she blamed me for his death. She left a year later and and now, she's coming back to make her son the CEO."
"Your brother,"
"Yes. I didn't want strangers looking after her," he continued. "So I hired help, built out the room, adjusted my schedule to be with her."
"You've been doing this on your own?"
He didn't answer right away.
She reached for the flour, thinking of ways to make him laugh. "Well then, hero. How do you feel about getting a make-up?"
When he turned around, she hit hit in the face with a puff of flour. He looked surprised.
"Did you just-"
She giggled helplessly. "Yes,"
"You're in trouble now."
He lunged, catching her around the waist, and rubbed her face with flour. The flour war escalated, laughter rising and they stilled as he pinned her on the ground, spilling her with more flour.
He was holding her, both breathless and faces inches apart.
"I won," she said before she could stop herself.
He turned to serve the pasta and she laughed at the sight of him. "Yeah, you look funny too."
Before she could reply, her phone buzzed.
Robert.
Liam noticed the name on her phone screen as they ate. She silenced it quickly but the shift already happened.
"I didn't know you cook this good,"
"I have to go." he said suddenly. "You coming?"
"Wait-"
But he was already wiping off the flour and getting ready to go. She sat slowly, wiping her face and jeans.