Chapter 15: The Ice Prince Watches
(Bryant's POV)
Her moans were loud tonight.
Liza moved on top of him like she had something to prove — hair wild, lips swollen, body arching as if this was her throne and he her loyal subject.
Bryant didn't speak. Didn't close his eyes. Just stared at the ceiling, letting her finish.
She leaned down, breath hot against his jaw. "Still got it, don't I?" she whispered.
He gave a short grunt. "You're loud."
She giggled, pulling the sheets over herself as she rolled beside him.
The hotel room was modern, sleek — far from the cold halls of his mansion. He hadn't returned in three days. Liza had begged him not to. Said she needed him. Said she felt like he was slipping.
Maybe she was right.
He didn't feel much of anything lately. Except annoyance.
A vibration buzzed against the nightstand.
Liza reached over and snatched his phone before he could. Her brows pinched the moment she looked at the screen.
"Oh," she said, voice tightening. "So this is why the internet's burning up."
Bryant turned his head.
She turned the phone to show him.
It was a photo — that photo.
Florida.
In his arms.
The gala flash had caught her expression perfectly: soft, unsure, her lips parted as if mid-breath.
His hand was curled protectively around her waist.
It looked... intimate.
Too intimate.
> "The Woman Beside the Ice Prince."
Bryant sat up, the sheets falling off his chest.
Liza was already scrolling, angry. "They're calling her elegant. Mysterious. Even saying she's your match—what the hell?"
Bryant didn't answer. He took the phone and zoomed in.
Her eyes.
That wasn't the face of someone playing the part.
She looked… real. Caught.
Vulnerable.
And now everyone had seen it.
Liza climbed off the bed, throwing on his shirt in frustration. "I told you we should've gone public. You let her come to the gala and now she's the one trending?"
He ran a hand through his hair, jaw tightening. "It was a business event."
"Business? That's what they're calling it now?" she snapped.
He picked up the phone again and dialed a number.
His publicist answered on the second ring. "Sir?"
"Take it down."
A pause. "The article?"
"All of it. I don't care how much you pay — wipe the photos. Redirect the narrative."
"Yes, sir."
He hung up.
Liza crossed her arms. "Protecting her now?"
Bryant stood and walked to the window, staring down at the blurred city lights.
"No," he said flatly. "I just don't like noise."
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But the image stayed in his mind.
That look on her face.
It wasn't staged. Wasn't part of the contract.
It was just… her.
And somehow, that made it worse.
He reached for a drink and downed it in one pull.
Liza walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"I'll fix this," she whispered, clinging tighter. "You and me — we were perfect before she came."
Bryant didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't touch her back.
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End of Chapter 15
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