During the Saturday evening, Clara attended the annual charity auction alone at the grand ballroom of the Rosewood Pavilion. She told her father that she could handle everything alone. Clara wore an off-the-shoulder ivory gown that hugged her form with elegant simplicity, its soft satin catching the light with every step she took. When Liam saw her in the ballroom, he approached her instantly.
"You look stunning," he said, his voice lower than usual, eyes scanning her with quiet admiration.
"Thank you. You look very handsome too," Clara blushed as she replied, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest as she took in the sight of him in a tailored black tuxedo suit.
Later in the evening, Liam was called away by one of his father's business partners for a private conversation. Clara remained near the refreshment table, sipping a flute of sparkling water and scanning the auction catalog, when a familiar voice cut through the music and polite chatter.
"You're the daughter of the Harper Group, right?"
Startled, it was the man who had once shattered her life, the who had betrayed her and locked her away, now stood before her in the same refined suit and charming smile he'd worn in her past life. But she felt nothing. No fear. No hatred. Only a cold, distant awareness. Still, she held her composure flawlessly, her expression unreadable. "Yes, you are?" she greeted coolly.
"Alex Grant," he said, extending a hand. "My father is the chairman of the Grant Group."
Clara took his hand, giving it a light shake. "Nice to meet you. I'm Clara Harper."
"You look beautiful tonight. Are you single now?" he asked with a casual arrogance, like the answer was already his to claim.
Clara opened her mouth to respond, instinctively wanting to say no but she paused. She and Liam hadn't officially defined anything.
"I am seeing someone now," she said finally, her voice quiet but steady.
"Well, perhaps you can consider," he said, taking a slow sip of his wine. "My parents have been nudging me to settle down. And after talking with you tonight, I find myself intrigued. Would you consider an arranged marriage with me?"
Clara blinked, stunned not by the proposal itself but by how effortlessly he thought he could command her future. "I'm currently… spending time with Liam," she said carefully.
Alex leaned in, undeterred. "Let me be blunt. If he's not serious about marrying you, I am. The moment you walked in tonight, I couldn't take my eyes off you. My father has extensive holdings both here and overseas. I'm sure yours wouldn't oppose our match."
Clara stared at him, trying to suppress the rising discomfort in her chest. In another life, she had trusted him. In this one, she saw through every calculated word. Before she could respond, a familiar voice cut in, low and firm.
"Back off."
Liam appeared at her side, his presence sharp and protective. He slid his hand around Clara's waist and drew her gently but firmly toward him. His eyes were locked onto Alex's with cold precision. "Clara is with me. Don't even think about it."
Alex smirked, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Easy, Reynolds. Just having a conversation."
Liam didn't reply. He turned and walked Clara away from the crowd, his hand still resting at the small of her back.
Once they slipped into a quieter corner, Clara turned to face him. Her heart was racing, not out of fear, but from the intensity in Liam's expression. His jaw was clenched, his brows slightly furrowed, and there was a quiet storm brewing behind his eyes. "Liam… are you angry?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he glanced down at her, and when he spoke, his voice had lost its usual teasing warmth,it was softer, but firm. "Yeah, I am," he admitted. "That guy doesn't deserve to be anywhere near you."
Clara blinked, caught off guard by the heat in his words. She couldn't quite understand why Alex's presence had stirred something so fierce in him.
Then Liam stepped in closer, his breath warm against her ear as he leaned down and said quietly, "I don't like seeing him looking at you like you're something he can claim." His hand, still resting at her waist, pulled her a little closer, his grip protective yet gentle. "Because you're not his."
Her breath caught, a soft gasp slipping past her lips as his words wrapped around her. Before she could speak, the lights in the ballroom dimmed and the announcer's voice returned, signaling the commencement of the auction.
Later, they returned to their seats as bidding began on the highlight item of the night: an exquisite diamond and sapphire necklace, sparkling under the gallery lights. The bidding rose quickly, and Clara watched in quiet surprise as Liam raised his paddle without hesitation—twice—winning the necklace for an astronomical price.
"I want to give this necklace to my mom," Liam whispered to her as the crowd applauded. "Her birthday's coming up."
Clara smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. "It's beautiful. It'll suit her perfectly."
In her previous life, she had believed painfully that Liam had bid on the necklace for another woman. That misunderstanding had twisted inside her for a period of time. But here, now, in this life, she knew the truth.
As the auction had ended,the music softened to a gentle hum and guests began to filter out with warm goodbyes and the clink of champagne flutes. Clara stood near the edge of the ballroom with Liam, her arm lightly tucked through his as they exchanged a few quiet words.
From the corner of her eye, Clara spotted a waiter weaving through the crowd with a tray of wine glasses. The tray wobbled, and a strange feeling stirred in her chest. She then recalled that the similar event in her previous life. Her eyes tracked him, heading straight for Liam. Without thinking, she stepped in front of him just as the waiter stumbled. Glass shattered, gasps echoed around them, and red wine splashed across her pale dress, blooming like a stain of fresh ink.
Liam turned at the sound, eyes widening as he saw Clara in front of him, her dress soaked, shards of glass at her feet. "Clara—" he breathed, stunned. Without hesitation, he shrugged off his tailored jacket and wrapped it gently around her shoulders, the soft fabric enveloping her frame as though to protect her from everything. She looked down at herself, then up at him, cheeks flushed. "Your jacket will get dirty," she murmured, trying to brush it off.
"I don't care about the jacket," he said, his voice low, edged with worry. "Why would you do something so reckless?"
Clara gave him a gentle smile, her eyes warm despite the mess. "Because it looked like it was heading straight for you. And as long as you're okay… that's all that matters."
Liam stared at her for a moment, something raw and unspoken flickering in his gaze. He reached up and brushed a damp strand of hair away from her cheek, his thumb lingering against her skin just a second longer than necessary. "You shouldn't have had to step in like that."
"I didn't even think," she admitted quietly. "It just felt… instinctive."
Without another word, Liam took Clara's hand and led her out of the ballroom, weaving smoothly through the lingering stares and murmured gasps. His grip was firm but gentle. The moment they stepped into the cool night air, Clara let out a shaky breath, the breeze kissing her damp skin where the wine had soaked through the fabric of her dress.
"You okay?" Liam asked softly, glancing down at her with concern etched across his face.
She nodded, though her voice was caught somewhere in her throat. "Yes, I'm okay."
He guided her to his car, opening the passenger door for her before rounding the driver's side. "I'm taking you to the Grand Lucerne," he said as he started the engine. "It's just a few minutes away. You can change, rest. I'll call for someone to pick up another clean and comfortable outfit for you."
"Liam, you really don't have to—"
"I want to," he cut in, not harshly, but with quiet finality. "You were soaked protecting me. You shouldn't have to spend the rest of the night feeling uncomfortable in a ruined dress."
Clara fell silent, heart beating a little harder. She couldn't tell if it was the adrenaline still fading or the softness in Liam's voice that had her chest fluttering.
When they arrived, the valet greeted Liam by name and ushered them inside. The receptionist immediately handed over a keycard for a suite, already prepared. It didn't surprise Clara that everything moved so quickly. Liam Reynolds lived in a world where problems were solved before they were even spoken aloud.
The elevator ride was quiet. Clara leaned against the wall, watching the floor numbers light up, her stained gown still clinging coldly to her skin.
"You didn't have to come up," she said when they reached the suite.
"I know," Liam replied. "But I want to make sure you're okay."
He walked her to the door and handed her the key. "Take your time. I'll be right out here."
Clara paused, touched by the gentleness in his tone. "Thank you… for everything."
He offered her a soft smile. "It's nothing. You saved me from a wine bath. I owe you at least this much."
She slipped inside the suite, closing the door behind her. The room was beautifully lit, with a plush king-sized bed and marble accents in the bathroom. She let the dress slide off her shoulders, the fabric heavy and stained, and stepped into the warm water of the shower, letting the steam wash away the cold.
As she stood beneath the spray, she couldn't stop thinking about the look in Liam's eyes when he'd watched her, how quick he was to care for her, how his presence never once felt like pressure.
She also could stop recalling the similar incident in the previous life and compared the different reaction of Liam.
And outside the door, Liam sat on a small sofa in the hallway, elbows on his knees, replaying the moment she stepped in front of him over and over.
He'd never seen anyone move like that, not for him. Not without hesitation.
And now more than ever, he knew Clara Harper wasn't just the woman fate had placed in his life.
She was someone he wanted in it. Permanently.
Liam thanked the hotel staff as they handed him the bag of clothes he'd requested for Clara. It was a simple, comfortable pieces chosen with care. With a nod of gratitude, he turned and made his way back to the suite, his pace steady but his mind racing with quiet worry.
He entered the room quietly, setting the bag down on the chair before walking toward the bathroom door. "Clara?" he called gently.
A moment later, she stepped out, wrapped in a soft white hotel robe, her damp hair brushed back. The warm light from the bedside lamp softened her features, and Liam swore she looked even more stunning now than she had all evening.
She paused in the doorway, a bit unsure, her fingers clutching the robe's fabric. "I didn't expect the clothings to arrive so fast," she said softly.
Liam crossed the room without a word, stopping just in front of her. He reached out, his fingers curling gently around hers. "Of course, Reynolds have that ability," he murmured. "Come here."
Her hand slid into his, and she let him pull her close, the quiet between them saying all the things words couldn't.
She did. And as he pulled her into his arms, the warmth of his embrace melted away the cold that had seeped into her bones. His fingers traced slow, calming circles along her back, and she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
"You scared me back there," he said quietly, his brows drawing together. "You stepped in front of the falling glasses for me."
"I believe you would've done the same," she replied, just as softly.
"I would've done more," he whispered, voice catching slightly as he looked up at her. "I would've given anything to keep you safe."
Clara exhaled, her hands lifting to rest gently on his shoulders. Her fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt, and for a heartbeat, they just stared at each other so close, the air between them felt too tight to breathe.
Then she leaned forward, slowly, giving him every chance to move away. He didn't. Instead, his hand slid up to cradle the back of her head, and their lips met. His other hand found her waist again, pulling her gently into his lap, and she let him, her knees pressing into the sofa on either side of him.
They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in one another as the world outside faded into irrelevance. Her fingers threaded into his hair, and his lips moved with hers.
Liam's voice was rough with desire as he murmured against her lips, "I am so comfortable with you right now. Shall we just stay here overnight?"
Clara didn't answer with words. Instead, she kissed him harder, her fingers tightening in his hair.
With a low growl, Liam stood in one fluid motion, lifting her effortlessly against him. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, their mouths never parting as he carried her to the bed. The soft mattress dipped beneath them as he laid her down, his body following, caging her between his arms.
His lips left hers only to trail down her throat, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin. Clara gasped, arching into him as his hands slid beneath the bath robe, his palms warm and possessive against her waist.
"You're so beautiful," he breathed, his fingers deftly loosening the tie of her robe. The fabric parted, baring her skin to his hungry gaze, a slow reveal that made her pulse thrum in response. His eyes darkened as they traced the delicate curves of her body, fingertips following in their wake, skimming the dip of her waist, the soft swell of her breasts. She shivered under his touch, her own hands working to rid him of his shirt, desperate to feel all of him against her.
The moment their bare chests pressed together, a shudder ran through them both. Liam's mouth found hers again, this time deeper, hungrier, his tongue sliding against hers. His hips rolled against hers, the hard ridge of his arousal pressing into her thigh, and Clara moaned, her nails digging into his back.
"Liam—"His name was a plea on her lips, but he was already answering, his hands roaming lower, slipping beneath the waistband of her panty. His fingers teased the sensitive skin of her hips before sliding down, down—
"Liam—" Clara's voice was a breathless plea, her body arching against him as his fingers traced lower, slipping beneath the lace of her panties. The moment his fingertips brushed over her slick heat, a shuddering gasp escaped her.
"Damn, Clara…" His voice was rough with need, his own restraint unraveling. "You're so wet for me."
She whimpered as he circled her clit, teasing before sliding a finger inside, stretching her slowly. Her nails bit into his shoulders, her hips rocking against his hand, seeking more.
"I told myself I wouldn't rush this," he growled against her throat, his breath hot. "But the way you feel… I can't think straight."
He stripped away his clothes with deliberate slowness, each movement unveiling more of his sculpted form—the taut ridges of his abdomen, the powerful cut of his thighs, and finally, his thick, rigid cock, jutting proudly from between his hips. Clara's breath hitched as her gaze dragged over him, her cheeks flushing hot. She had imagined him before—vague, fleeting fantasies—but nothing like this. The reality of him, fully exposed and achingly hard, sent a pulse of heat between her legs. Her lips parted, her mind scrambling for words, but all she could do was stare, mesmerized by the sheer hunger in his eyes as he watched her reaction.
Liam didn't give her time to overthink. With a groan, he captured her mouth again, kissing her deeply as he guided himself to her entrance. The first press of him against her soaked folds made them both shudder.
"Look at me," he demanded, his voice raw.
Clara's lashes fluttered open, meeting his darkened gaze just as he pushed inside—slow, deliberate, letting her feel every inch. A sharp gasp tore from her lips at the stretch, the delicious fullness as he seated himself completely.
"Clara, you're tight," he gritted out, his hips flexing instinctively.
She clutched at him, her body adjusting, her walls fluttering around him. "Don't stop," she begged.
Liam didn't need to be told twice. With a groan, he withdrew almost completely before thrusting back in, deeper this time. Clara cried out, her back arching as pleasure sparked through her veins.
He set a relentless pace, each stroke dragging against her sensitive walls, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside her that made her toes curl. The slap of skin, the ragged sounds of their breathing, the way his hands gripped her hips, everything was overwhelming, intoxicating.
"You feel too good," Liam rasped, his mouth finding her neck, her collarbone, anywhere he could taste her. "I can't get enough."
Clara's nails raked down his back as the coil of pleasure tightened in her core. "I'm close—"
His hand slid between them, his thumb circling her clit in firm, quick strokes. "Come for me," he ordered, his voice rough with desire. "Let me feel you."
The command shattered her. Pleasure crashed over her in waves, her body clamping around him as she cried out his name. Liam swore under his breath, his thrusts growing erratic before he buried himself deep, his own release surging through him with a groan.
For a long moment, they stayed like that—breathless, tangled together, skin damp with sweat. Liam pressed a kiss to her shoulder, his voice a rough murmur.
"I was supposed to go slow."
Clara laughed breathlessly, her fingers tracing his spine. "I'm not complaining."
He lifted his head, his gaze heavy-lidded but intense. "Good. Because I don't think I can stop now."
And when he kissed her again, Clara knew she didn't want him to.
Liam's hands slid down Clara's body, his touch possessive yet reverent as he guided her onto her knees. The sheets clung to her heated skin, but he pulled her back against him, his chest pressed to her spine, his voice a dark whisper in her ear.
"Tell me you're not too sensitive."
Clara shivered, arching into him as his fingers teased between her thighs, finding her still slick, still throbbing from her first climax. "I'm not," she breathed. "I want more."
A rough sound escaped him, and then he was pushing inside her again, filling her in one slow, relentless thrust. Clara gasped, her nails digging into the sheets as he set a deliberate, deep rhythm, each movement dragging against oversensitive nerves, sending fresh pleasure sparking through her veins.
"God, you feel perfect," Liam growled, one hand gripping her hip, the other tangling in her hair to tilt her head back. His mouth found the curve of her neck, teeth scraping lightly as his pace quickened. "Come for me again. Let me feel it."
Clara's moan broke into a whimper as the pressure built, tighter and hotter than before. Every drag of his body against hers stoked the fire higher, until she was trembling on the edge, her breath coming in ragged bursts.
And then his fingers found her clit, circling just right—
She shattered. Pleasure ripped through her, wave after wave, her body clenching around him as she cried out. Liam cursed, his rhythm faltering as he followed her over, his release hitting hard, his groan muffled against her skin.
For a long moment, they stayed locked together, both trembling, both breathless. When he finally moved, it was to gather her against his chest, his lips brushing her temple.