I don't know how I ended up in my bed.
That was my first thought as the dull thrum of a hangover began to pulse behind my eyelids. The last thing I remembered was the cold night air hitting my face as I practically ran out of L'Élite, the phantom weight of Liam Vane's gaze still pressing against my spine. I remembered the neon lights of the city blurring together, the smell of expensive sandalwood clinging to my lace top... and then, nothing.
A void.
I sat up, my head spinning. I was still in the black lace top, but my heels were tossed haphazardly across the room. I checked my phone. 11:00 AM.
A flurry of texts from the group chat lit up the screen.
Sarah: LIA. ARE YOU ALIVE?
Mia: Guys... how did we get home? I remember being at the bar and then suddenly I was in a black SUV that smelled like a billionaire's tax returns.
Sarah: Me too! The driver wouldn't even let me pay. He just said "It's been handled" and handed me a bottle of high-end water. Lia... what did you DO?
I stared at the messages, a cold shiver crawling over my skin. I didn't remember an SUV. I didn't remember a driver. I checked my bank app, no Uber charges. No taxi receipts.
I stood up, my legs feeling like lead, and walked toward the small vanity mirror. I needed to splash water on my face and convince myself that Liam Vane was just a bad dream brought on by too much tequila and graduation stress.
But as I reached for my hair tie, I stopped.
On my nightstand, sitting right next to my cracked phone, was something that hadn't been there when I went to sleep.
It was a small, heavy card. Matte black. Embossed in silver was a single V, the logo of Vane Industries. I picked it up with trembling fingers and flipped it over. There was no phone number. No address. Just a single sentence written in sharp, aggressive handwriting:
"I told you, Lia. I don't let go of things I intend to keep."
My breath hitched. My room was locked. My window was bolted. I lived on the fourth floor of a secured dorm.
Yet, here it was.
Suddenly, a notification popped up on my phone. Not a text. Not a call.
An invitation.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I opened it. It was a calendar invite for a "Job Interview" at 2:00 PM today. The location? Vane Towers. The position? Personal Assistant to the CEO.
I hadn't applied for a job. I hadn't even finished packing my boxes.
I looked back at the black card in my hand. He wasn't just "intrigued." This wasn't a game to him. He had tracked me down, bypassed my security, and was now pulling the strings of my life before I even had my morning coffee.
The chemistry from last night wasn't just volatile. It was a trap.
I reached for my laptop, intending to delete the invite, but the screen was already lit up. A video file was sitting on my desktop, titled: L'Élite - Bar Footage.
With a shaking hand, I clicked play.
The video showed the bar from last night. It showed me rolling my eyes at him. It showed the "Lethal First Sight."
But then, the footage continued past where my memory ended. It showed Liam leaning over to his bodyguard and pointing at me.
And then, it showed something that made the blood drain from my face.
In the video, as I walked away, a man I didn't recognize approached me from the shadows of the exit. But before he could reach me, Liam's hand shot out, grabbing the man by the throat and slamming him against the wall with a violence that looked almost effortless.
Liam didn't even look at the man he was choking. His eyes stayed locked on my retreating figure. He leaned into the man's ear, whispered something that made the stranger's face turn white with terror, and then let him drop like trash.
Liam Vane hadn't just watched me leave.
He had been protecting me. Or rather... he was already guarding his new territory.