She Is Mine
The night was draped in shadows, the air thick with the scent of expensive tobacco and rain. Liam stood on the balcony of his estate, a silhouette clad in a flowing black silk robe. From a distance, he appeared as nothing more than a dark, looming figure—unapproachable and perhaps even plain. But as the moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face, the truth was revealed: he was a masterpiece of cold, lethal beauty.
Liam was the definition of a "hot pick"—tall, built with a refined muscularity, and possessing ocean-blue eyes that could freeze a man's blood. His lips, full and unnaturally red, were currently pulled into a thin, stressed line. He had just hung up with his personal assistant, Ben, and the news was sour: Tasha had been spotted with another man.
"Dammit!" he hissed into the night.
"Sir?" Ben's voice came from the doorway, tentative and small.
Liam whirled around, his eyes flashing with a predatory light. "Fuck off, loser! I wasn't talking to you. And do not—I repeat, do not—ever enter my room uncalled again!"
"I'm sorry, sir," Ben stammered, shrinking back.
"Out!" Liam's roar echoed through the vaulted ceilings.
He retreated to his bed, sitting with a practiced, effortless grace that made even his anger look like art. He didn't love Tasha—at least, not in the way poets wrote about—but he needed her. She was the daughter of a fellow Mafia Don, a crucial piece in a high-stakes alliance. He grabbed his phone, his fingers flying across the screen.
Liam: Hi Tasha.
Tasha: Hey my love.
Liam: Where have you been?
Tasha: Weird question… I've been home.
Liam: Lies, Tasha. Lies. Can you tell me the truth for once?
Tasha: Fuck you, Liam. This is exactly my problem with you. I'm off here.
The screen went dark. Restless energy surged through him. He moved with swift, lethal efficiency, changing into black tailored trousers and a silk shirt left dangerously open at the collar. He brushed back his hair, grabbed his keys, and strode toward the door.
Ben was waiting in the hall. "Sir—"
"Don't step closer," Liam snapped, not even looking at him. "Follow behind in the Porsche."
Minutes later, they arrived at a mansion on the edge of town, a sprawling fortress even larger than Liam's own. He parked a discreet distance away and watched. Within moments, a flash of crimson caught his eye—a red Audi R8 roared out of the driveway.
"Hmm. Flashy," Liam murmured, his voice like velvet over gravel. "She wants flashy."
"Sir?" Ben whispered from the driver's seat of the trailing car.
"Ben! Fuck you, Ben! Do you have a problem with your hearing?"
"I'm sorry, sir."
"Always sorry," Liam sneered. "Follow that car. Get me every detail on the driver. Now."
"Yes, sir. But... what about you?"
Liam leaned toward the window, his expression terrifyingly calm. "Ben, just go. Stop pretending you give a shit. I pay you to work, not to act like my mother. You care about me? Man, just fuck off."
"I'm only concerned for your safety, sir."
"Seems you need a smack in the ear to help you hear better," Liam growled. "Move your ass. Now!"
Liam was the rudest man most would ever encounter, a man who weaponized words and ignored the collateral damage. He watched Ben drive off before approaching the main gate.
Inside, Tasha met him at the door, her eyes heavy and her hair artfully tousled to suggest she'd been sleeping. "Liam? What are you doing here?"
Liam saw through the performance instantly, but he offered a cold, practiced smile. "Tasha, baby. I'm sorry about how I sounded. I had to come and apologize in person."
"You didn't have to," she said, leaning against the doorframe, "but come in. You might as well stay the night. I've been so lonely since Dad left."
"Yeah," Liam muttered under his breath as he stepped past her. "That's why you couldn't keep your pussy in your panties."
"What did you say?"
"I was talking about Ben," Liam lied smoothly, his eyes scanning the room. "Let's go inside."
Meanwhile, Ben followed the red Audi to a residence that was a staple of the local news. It was the home of Jeff Collins—the famous actor known for his brooding villain roles and striking looks.
Jeff was a titan of a man, taller even than Liam, with a gym-honed physique, blonde hair, and a rebellious edge marked by two ear piercings and a silver stud in his eyebrow. He was exactly what Tasha wanted: flashy, famous, and dangerous in a way that didn't involve the grime of the Mafia.
Ben snapped a high-resolution photo of the actor entering the house and sent it to Liam.
[Image Attached]
Ben: Should I come pick you up?
The reply was instant and icy.
Liam: No.