Alicia Pov
The elevator doors slid shut with a whisper, but it was the sound of his voice that stayed with me, curling around my spine, slithering under my skin.
"You're afraid of what you'll become… once you stop pretending you don't want this."
God.
I pressed my back against the elevator wall, my breath shaky, chest rising like I'd just run a mile.
His voice still echoed in my ears, deep and slow and made of velvet sin.
My skin was on fire.
My lips were tingling.
And my legs? Trembling.
I tried to steady my breathing, gripping the clipboard like it could ground me back to reality, but it was useless.
I had officially lost control on Day One.
He touched me.
Seven years! seven damn years and Liam Knight touched me again.
Just a finger under my chin. Just a single, intimate gesture. But it cracked something I had carefully sealed shut the moment I walked into this building.
And worse? I wanted him to do it again.
The elevator reached the executive floor, but I didn't step out. Not immediately. My legs won't move.
The memory of his fingers….. how light they felt, how heavy they lingered had hijacked my body. My thoughts. My common sense.
God, I hated him. I hated how calm he was.
How calculative.
How easily he made me melt with two words and a single touch.
I hated that even after all this time, my body still responded to him like it had never stopped craving him.
Like a junkie catching the scent of her first hit.
And that voice…
Liam's voice had always been my weakness.
Now it was a weapon.
I stepped out of the elevator on shaking heels and walked back to my desk like nothing happened.
Like I hadn't just almost begged my boss to ruin me again with a look.
But I could still feel him, like his heat was still on my skin, like my ear was still warm from his breath.
And then there was what he said:
"If I invite you in… you don't walk away."
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Was it a warning? A promise? Or A command?
I didn't know! And that terrified me more than anything else.
My fingers couldn't stop trembling as I typed a few final notes, even though no one would read them but me.
My reflection on the black screen of my laptop looked pale. Lips parted. Eyes haunted.
I had come here with a plan.
Be perfect, Stay professional and Avoid Liam at all costs.
Don't remember and Don't feel.
But now? Every part of me was remembering what I wasn't supposed to. The way he kissed. The way he groaned. The way his hands roamed like they had a claim.
Back then, after that night, I never heard anything about him again.
Without a trace.
And now he stood in front of me like nothing ever happened. Like he doesn't or has never met me before. Like he didn't once worship my body and then disappear like a damn ghost.
Like he wasn't the man who introduced me to desire… and then taught me what abandonment tasted like.
And yet…
He looked at me tonight like I was still his.
Like he still had rights.
And the most terrifying part?
I wanted to believe he did.
I left the building around 7:15 p.m., ignoring the chill in the air, ignoring the way my phone buzzed with a missed call from my roommate, Jenna.
I couldn't talk.
I couldn't even think straight.
The city was a blur of headlights and noise. My mind, a tornado of memories I had locked away for years.
The way Liam once whispered my name in the dark room of Obsidian Club.
The way he'd trace circles on my hips after…..
No.... Stop.
This isn't college.
This isn't seven years ago.
He's not some charming stranger at Obsidian. He's not a mysterious one-night stand I never thought I'd see again.
He's my boss.
My danger.
And this time?
I wouldn't survive it if I let him touch more than my chin.
When I got home to my apartment in Brooklyn, I peeled off my heels and walked barefoot to the tiny kitchen. I poured a glass of cold water and gulped it down like it could put out the fire Liam had lit under my skin.
But the ache didn't go away.
The thoughts didn't stop.
I opened my laptop and stared at the notes I had written earlier about KnightCorp policies and floor directories.
I didn't need policies.
I needed boundaries.
I clicked on a blank document and began to type:
Rules For Working With Liam Knight:
* Never be alone with him.
* Never make eye contact longer than three seconds.
* Never bring up the past.
* Never let him touch you again.
* Never… ever… fall for him.
I stared at the list. And laughed.
Because I already broke Rule One.
He already broke Rule Four.
And Rule Five?
God help me.
Rule Five was already slipping.
At exactly 8:23 p.m., a notification popped on my phone.
New message received.
Unknown Number:
You should eat something. Tomorrow's going to be long.
—L.K.
I stared at the screen for so long, I forgot to breathe.
My heart stumbled in my chest.
He had my number?
Of course he did. He was Liam Knight.
He probably had my blood type, medical records, and a list of everyone I ever kissed.
But still… the message.
Casual. Intimate. Dangerous.
And the way he said "you should eat something" ... it wasn't concern.
It was possession disguised as care.
A command dressed as kindness.
And just like that, I realized something terrifying:
He was still inside my head.
Still pulling strings.
Still five steps ahead of me.
Liam Knight wasn't just my boss.
He was my addiction.
And I'd just relapsed.
Tomorrow, I'd walk back into that penthouse.
And I would face him again.
And I would pretend to be composed.
But deep down?
I knew the truth: I wasn't going to survive this.
Not with my heart intact. Not with my soul unburned.
Because Liam Knight wasn't just a man.
He was the storm I'd never stopped craving.