The grand museum was finally fading into the rearview mirror, but the air inside the Rolls-Royce was still charged with the electric residue of the ballroom. The partition between them and Marcus was raised, plunging the back seat into a velvet-lined cocoon of shadows. Ava sat near the window, her head resting against the cool glass, watching the neon lights of Manhattan streak by like blurred memories.
She could feel Liam's presence next to her.
He hadn't moved since they entered the car, but the heat radiating from him was a silent, insistent force. The silence between them wasn't empty; it was heavy, filled with the ghost of the kiss that had almost happened behind the velvet curtains.
Liam finally broke the silence, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that seemed to vibrate through the leather seats. "You're still shivering, Ava."
"The night air was cold," she lied softly, not turning to look at him. "And the garden... it was a lot to take in."
"It wasn't just the air," Liam said. She heard the slight shift of fabric as he moved.
Suddenly, she felt his warmth much closer. He reached out, his long, strong fingers catching a stray lock of her hair and tucking it slowly behind her ear. His touch was agonizingly slow, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of her neck.
Ava's breath hitched. She finally turned to look at him. In the dim, rhythmic flashes of the streetlights, Liam's face was a masterpiece of shadows and sharp angles. His eyes were dark, the icy blue replaced by something deeper, something that looked like a storm held back by a crumbling dam.
"My grandmother believes you," he whispered, his hand not pulling away. Instead, his thumb began to trace the line of her jaw, moving with a torturous slowness. "She saw exactly what I wanted her to see. But I wonder... did she see something I haven't admitted to myself yet?"
"What would that be, Liam?" Ava asked, her voice trembling. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure he could feel it through the small space between them.
Liam didn't answer with words. He leaned in, inch by agonizing inch, until his forehead was resting against hers. The scent of him—expensive tobacco, cold rain, and something uniquely masculine—wrapped around her like a blanket. Ava closed her eyes, her senses reeling. The world outside the car didn't exist anymore. There was only the sound of their shared breathing and the magnetic pull that was drawing her toward the very man who had bought her soul.
"You're a danger to the script, Ava," he murmured against her skin. His hand slid down to the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her just a fraction closer. "I should let you go. I should send you back to that bar and forget I ever saw you."
"Then why don't you?" she challenged, her voice a mere whisper.
Liam let out a ragged breath. He tilted his head, his lips ghosting over her cheek, moving toward the corner of her mouth. He was taking his time, savoring the anticipation, making her ache for a contact that felt both forbidden and inevitable.
"Because I've spent my whole life in the cold," he rasped, his lips now brushing against hers, not yet a kiss, but a promise of one. "And for the first time... I don't want to go back to the ice."
The tension snapped like a fragile thread. Liam's self-control, the very thing that had made him the most feared man in the city, disintegrated the moment his lips finally crashed against hers. It wasn't a gentle kiss; it was a collision. It was desperate, raw, and possessive—the sound of a starving man finally finding a feast.
Liam's hand moved from her neck to her waist, his fingers digging into the expensive silk of her gown as he pulled her flush against him. Ava let out a small, breathless moan as the kiss deepened, her hands tangling in his dark hair, pulling him closer as if she could merge her soul with his. The world outside the car vanished; there was only the heat of him, the taste of champagne and mint on his tongue, and the dangerous electricity of his touch.
He broke away from her mouth for a second, but only to bury his face in the crook of her neck. His kisses were hot and frantic, moving along the line of her throat. Ava's head fell back against the leather seat, her chest heaving as she felt the sharp graze of his teeth—a playful, wild nip that sent a jolt of pure fire through her veins.
"Liam..." she whispered, her voice broken and unrecognizable even to herself.
At the sound of her voice, Liam froze. It was as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him. The car hit a small bump in the road, the slight jolt acting as a final wake-up call. He pulled back so abruptly that Ava stumbled against the door, her lips swollen and her hair a chaotic halo around her flushed face.
The silence that followed was deafening. Liam stared at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and self-loathing. The 'Ice King' was back, but his mask was cracked and bleeding. He reached out to adjust his cuffs, his hands trembling—a sight Ava never thought she'd see.
"That... was a mistake," Liam rasped, his voice cold and flat once more, though it lacked its usual steadiness. He turned his face away, staring out into the dark streets again. "We have a contract, Ava. Not a romance. Don't mistake my lack of discipline for something it isn't."
Ava sat there, her skin still burning where he had touched her, her heart still screaming for the warmth he had just ripped away. The rejection stung more than any of Valeska's insults. She smoothed her dress with shaking hands, feeling the coldness of the car seep back into her bones.
"I won't make that mistake again, Mr. Moretti," she said, her voice small but sharp.
They spent the rest of the drive in a silence so thick it felt like a wall. The fire had been lit, but Liam was already trying to bury it under a mountain of ice.