I froze.
Like, fully froze. Brain short-circuited, thoughts derailed, motor functions offline. It wasn’t even dramatic—it was quiet, humiliating paralysis, the kind that makes you hate yourself just a little. Because Liam had asked a question, and it wasn’t even a hard one. It wasn’t a surprise calculus test or a “where do you see yourself in five years” existential panic trap. It was simple. Direct.
“Can you look me in the eye and tell me there’s nothing going on between you and Jeremy?”
And the answer was yes. It should have been yes. I could’ve said it and moved on and kept the illusion intact. I could’ve spared myself.
But my mouth wouldn’t cooperate.
Because the truth—whatever form it took—was twisted up with a thousand little lies I’d told to survive, and one actual truth: I was a terrible liar. The worst. A disaster. My face always betrayed me, my voice cracked, I blinked too much. I couldn’t fake it. Especially not to him.
And so I said nothing.
And Liam’s face changed.
He didn’t rage. He didn’t explode. He just… hardened. His voice dropped to that clipped, surgical tone I’d only heard once or twice before.
“Yeah. I thought so.”
Each word hit like a slap. Precise. Measured. Lethal.
“I won’t allow a mess like this to ruin what I’ve built here,” he added. “Another bullshit situation like this and you’re fired.”
I felt something snap.
Maybe it was logic. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was just exhaustion from pretending to be someone I wasn’t every single day. Either way, the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“Is it because I didn’t kiss you yesterday?”
The second I said it, I regretted it. Wanted to rewind, throw myself out the window, maybe pretend I’d been possessed by some blunt, horny ghost with no impulse control.
Liam blinked.
And then—God help me—he laughed.
That same low, amused, maddening sound that had ruined my brain chemistry since the first time I’d heard it. Like he couldn’t help himself. Like he enjoyed me being chaotic and unprofessional and one breath away from a breakdown.
And I hated that I liked it. Hated that something in me thrilled at the sound.
Because in my mother’s house, this part of me—the impulsive, unfiltered, too-much part—had always been something to fix. I was supposed to be polished. Pleasant. Quiet. The kind of girl who crossed her legs and lowered her voice and smiled through condescension. A lady. A daughter. A deal.
Liam didn’t want that. He wanted me exactly as I was.
Infuriating. Loud. Fire at the edges.
“From my perspective,” he said, slow and measured, “you were the one who wanted to kiss me.”
My breath caught.
He took a step closer.
“You leaned in,” he said, voice lower now. “You were halfway there.”
My chest was heaving. “I—was not.”
“You were.”
“I couldn’t tell what you wanted—”
“I was very clear.”
“No, you weren’t—”
“And for the record,” he murmured, now so close I could feel the heat of him, “if you get fired, we can always continue what we started. No HR complications.”
Then—before I could say anything, before I could panic or prepare or ruin it with words—he kissed me.
No warning. No slow lean. Just his hands at my waist, his mouth on mine, and God—it was fire. It was pressure. It was too much and not enough and my knees barely held me upright because he kissed like he hated being caught off guard, like he needed to reclaim every second we’d almost kissed before and do it properly now.
He backed me against his desk.
My hands fisted in his shirt.
His mouth moved like he was memorizing me.
I let out a small, embarrassing noise I couldn’t take back even if I wanted to.
And then—he pulled away.
Just like that.
He straightened his cuffs. Cleared his throat. Back to composed, controlled, totally unaffected CEO mode while I was still trying to figure out how to walk again.
“I have a meeting,” he said.
Like nothing happened. Like we hadn’t just redefined the workplace misconduct manual in under sixty seconds.
I blinked, breathless and flushed and very nearly feral.
He glanced at me once more on his way to the door, and his mouth curved just slightly.
“See you at the all-hands, Ava.”
And then he was gone.
I stared at the empty room, at the desk behind me, at the place where my dignity used to be.
Well. So.
At least I wasn’t getting fired.
Yet.
All I had to do now was fend off Jeremy, keep Liam from discovering I was an heiress-in-hiding, deliver flawless work, manage my simmering sexual tension with my boss, and, you know, not ruin everything.
So. Super easy.