The regulatory impact meeting the following afternoon was exhausting, but Abby made it through. She had used her three-hour block to sleep for two and a half, emerging from the deep slumber feeling slightly human again. However, the subsequent meeting ran late, and by the time they were walking to their waiting car, the dizziness was hitting her hard.
They were navigating a crowded financial district lobby. Abby focused on keeping her footing and maintaining her professional facade. Suddenly, a hurried man carrying a heavy briefcase rushed past, clipping her shoulder and sending her documents flying.
She gasped, not from the impact, but from the sudden, sharp lurch of her body. Her balance, already compromised by the pregnancy, vanished. She stumbled hard, bracing herself for the impact with the marble floor.
In an instant, Liam's strong arm shot out. He did not just catch her. He hauled her against his side, his hand clamping firmly around her upper arm and steadying her entire weight.
The contact was immediate, jarring, and electrifying. It was not the impersonal touch of a professional aide. It was the raw, protective instinct of a physically powerful man. Abby was pressed against the hard, unyielding wall of his chest. She could hear the rapid beat of his heart through his shirt, mirroring the terrified hammering of her own. For a split second, the world narrowed to the feel of his expensive suit jacket against her cheek and the overwhelming reality of his masculine scent.
"Watch where you're going," Liam snapped, not at her but at the man who had bumped her, his voice low and dangerous.
"I'm fine," Abby managed, pulling back immediately, her cheeks burning crimson. She bent quickly to gather the scattered papers, desperate to reclaim her control.
Liam did not move. He stood over her, his eyes blazing with an emotion she could not categorize. It was not anger, but a profound, almost protective annoyance.
"You're pale, Abby. You almost collapsed. You are not fine."
He waited until she collected the last of the papers before taking the folder from her hand. His fingers brushed hers, and this time the sensation felt less like a professional boundary and more like an electric current running between them.
"We're done for the day," he announced, not asking but commanding. He turned to his driver. "Take Ms. Brooks back to the hotel. She is to rest. Cancel the dinner meeting."
"Mr. Sterling, you can't cancel that meeting. It's with the Deputy Governor of the Exchange," Abby protested, horrified by the thought of disrupting such a high-stakes meeting for her sake.
"I can cancel anything I want," he retorted, his voice brooking no argument. He steered her toward the car, his hand returning to her arm, his grip firm. "You are the only person on this team who can deliver the final presentation tomorrow. You are a valuable asset. I am managing my assets, Abby. That's all this is."
He pushed her gently into the spacious back seat of the car. As he leaned in to shut the door, their eyes met, and in the low light of the garage, the intensity was unbearable.
"Get some sleep," he ordered, his voice almost a growl. "And if you feel this ill again, you will tell me. I don't tolerate unnecessary risk."
As the car pulled away, Abby leaned back against the leather seat, one hand resting protectively over her stomach. Liam Sterling's protective instinct was terrifying. He claimed he was managing her as an asset, yet his touch had felt deeply personal, almost possessive. She was carrying his child, and the more she tried to hide the fragile life growing inside her, the more his intense, commanding presence seemed to invade her world.
The fear settled sharp and cold in her chest.
What would happen if he ever realized the truth about the variable she was concealing?