The morning after the gala didn't bring sunlight; it brought a heavy, suffocating grey mist that clung to the glass walls of Moretti Holdings. Inside the top-floor executive suite, the temperature seemed to be ten degrees colder than the rest of the city.
Liam Moretti stood behind his mahogany desk, his back to the room. He had slept for zero hours. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt the ghost of Ava's skin against his lips and the way she had come alive in his arms. It made him feel weak. And Liam Moretti hated weakness more than death.
"I asked for the merger files, Julian. Not a collection of excuses," Liam's voice was like a blade sliding over silk—quiet, but deadly.
His head of acquisitions, a man who had been with the company for ten years, was trembling. "Sir, the Volkovs pulled out at the last minute. They said the terms were—"
Liam turned around slowly. His eyes were no longer the stormy blue of the night before; they were flat, dead ice. He walked toward Julian with the slow, predatory grace of a wolf.
"The terms were what I dictated," Liam said, leaning over the table. He picked up a crystal paperweight and turned it over in his hand. "Do you know what happens to people who fail me, Julian? They don't just lose their jobs. They lose their reputation. Their future. Their very name."
"P-please, Mr. Moretti, give me another—"
With a sudden, violent movement, Liam slammed the crystal down onto the desk. The crack echoed like a gunshot in the silent office. "Get out. You have ten minutes to clear your desk before security throws you onto the street. And Julian? If I ever see your face in this industry again, I'll make sure the only job you can get is cleaning the floors of the Emerald Club."
As Julian scrambled out, Liam's hand was steady, but his jaw was clenched tight. He needed to destroy something. He needed to remind himself that he was the hunter, not the prey.
He pressed the intercom. "Marcus. Bring Miss Brooks to my office. Now."
"Sir, she is still resting after the gala—"
"I didn't ask for her schedule, Marcus. I asked for her presence. If she isn't here in twenty minutes, she can walk back to her studio apartment in the rain."
He cut the connection. He needed her here. He needed to see her, to look at her through the lens of his power, and convince himself that the man in the car last night was a ghost. He would treat her like the employee she was. He would remind her—and himself—that she was nothing more than a beautiful lie he had bought for ten million dollars.
Twenty minutes later, the private elevator chimed. Ava stepped out, looking pale but defiant in a sharp, professional dress Valeska had chosen. She looked around the cold, glass-and-steel temple of his empire and finally met his gaze.
Liam didn't rise. He sat in his leather chair, a king on his throne, looking at her with a chilling detachment that made the events of the previous night feel like a hallucination.
"Sit down, Miss Brooks," he commanded, gesturing to the chair across from him. "We need to discuss the next phase of our 'arrangement'. And let's be clear... there will be no more 'mistakes' like the one in the car. From now on, you will remember exactly who I am. And more importantly, who you are."
Ava didn't sit. Instead, she stood her ground, her heels clicking softly on the polished marble as she took a slow step toward his desk. The silence in the office was so sharp it felt like it could draw blood. She looked at the cracked crystal paperweight on his desk, then back at his eyes, which were as unreadable as a frozen lake.
"I know exactly who I am, Liam," she said, her voice low and dangerous, matching his tone. "I'm the woman you're paying ten million dollars to save your reputation. And I know who you are, too. You're a man so terrified of a single human connection that you have to break things—and people—just to feel like you're still in control."
Liam's eyes narrowed, a muscle jumping in his jaw. He stood up slowly, his tall frame looming over her like a dark shadow. He walked around the desk until he was inches away from her, the scent of his expensive cologne now mixed with the cold, sterile smell of the office.
"You think you understand me because of one night?" he hissed, leaning down until they were eye-to-eye. "Let me remind you of the reality, Miss Brooks. Outside these walls, you are my fiancée. But inside this office, you are an asset. And I don't let my assets talk back to me."
He reached out, his hand gripping the edge of the table behind her, effectively pinning her between his body and the cold wood.
"The next phase of the plan involves a charity auction tomorrow night. You will be bid on. You will look radiant, you will look devoted, and you will not—under any circumstances—look at me the way you did in the car."
"Or what?" Ava challenged, her breath hitching as his proximity sent a traitorous spark through her. "Will you fire me, Liam? Throw me back to the Emerald Club? We both know you need me more than I need your diamonds."
For a second, the coldness in his eyes flickered, replaced by that same raw hunger from the night before. His gaze dropped to her lips, and the air in the room became thick enough to suffocate. He leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper.
"Don't test me, Ava. You might be the only one who can play this part, but don't forget—I'm the one who owns the stage. Now, go. Marcus has the details for tomorrow. And don't bother coming to dinner tonight. I prefer to eat alone."
He stepped back, the wall of ice slamming back into place so fast it was jarring. He turned his back on her, dismissed her as if she were nothing more than a ghost. Ava felt a sting of tears in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She turned and walked toward the elevator, her heart heavy with the realization that the man she had kissed in the car was gone, replaced by a monster in a three-piece suit.