It was past midnight when Isabella finally closed her laptop.
She'd been working in the penthouse office for hours—the shared space that neither of them used much because it felt too intimate, too domestic. But tonight, Liam had claimed he needed to review the same contracts she was working on, and somehow they'd ended up on opposite ends of the room, working in tense silence.
The diamond bracelet was still on her wrist. Isabella hadn't taken it off since their confrontation. Every time she moved, it caught the light, reminding her of what he'd almost admitted.
I can't look at you the way I want to look at you.
She could feel him watching her even now. Quick glances when he thought she wasn't paying attention. His eyes tracking her movements across the room. The tension in the air so thick she could barely breathe.
"I need a break," Isabella said quietly, standing and stretching. Her back ached from sitting too long.
Liam grunted in response, not looking up from his papers.
Isabella walked to the kitchen, her bare feet silent on the cold marble floor. She'd kicked off her heels hours ago, had loosened her hair from its bun. The penthouse felt different at night—darker, more intimate, like a secret space that existed outside the rules of their daytime lives.
She opened the refrigerator, looking for water.
There was one bottle left.
Isabella reached for it just as Liam appeared beside her, his hand shooting out for the same bottle.
Their fingers touched.
Both froze.
The refrigerator light cast shadows across Liam's face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes. He was so close. Close enough that Isabella could feel the heat radiating from his body, could smell his cologne mixed with something uniquely him.
Neither of them pulled away.
"Sorry," Isabella whispered, her voice barely audible. "You take it."
"No." Liam's voice was rough, strained. "You're thirsty."
"So are you."
They stood there, hands touching on the cold water bottle, neither willing to break the contact. The refrigerator hummed quietly. The city lights filtered through the windows. And the space between them felt charged with electricity.
Liam's eyes dropped to her lips.
Isabella's breath caught.
"Isabella," he said quietly, and her name in his voice—rough and wanting—sent shivers down her spine.
"Yes?"
"We should..." He swallowed hard, his eyes still on her lips. "We should maintain boundaries."
"We should," Isabella agreed, but neither of them moved.
Liam's free hand came up slowly, hesitantly, like he was fighting every instinct. His fingers brushed her cheek, barely a touch, feather-light and devastating.
"This is a bad idea," he murmured, but he was leaning closer.
"Terrible idea," Isabella whispered back, her heart racing so fast she thought it might explode.
"The contract says—"
"I don't care what the contract says."
The words hung between them, brave and reckless.
Liam's eyes finally met hers, and what Isabella saw there stole her breath. Want. Need. Fear. Desire so raw and hungry it made her knees weak.
"You should care," Liam said, but his hand was sliding from her cheek to cup the back of her neck, his thumb brushing her pulse point. "You should run. You should tell me to stop."
"I don't want you to stop."
Liam's jaw clenched. He was so close now that Isabella could feel his breath on her lips, could see the war raging in his eyes—control versus desire, rules versus need.
"If I do this," he said, his voice dropping to something dark and desperate, "I won't be able to pretend anymore. Won't be able to tell myself this is just business. Just a contract."
"Then don't pretend," Isabella breathed. "Don't tell yourself lies."
Liam's eyes darkened further. His hand tightened slightly on her neck, possessive and gentle at once. "You have no idea what you're asking for."
"Then show me."
It was permission. Invitation. Surrender.
Liam leaned in, his eyes locked on hers, then dropping to her lips. The air crackled with tension, with two years of denied want finally breaking free. His lips were a breath away from hers, so close Isabella could almost taste him—
His phone blared to life on the counter.
The ringtone—Chloe's special ringtone—shattered the moment like breaking glass.
Liam jerked back as if burned, his hand dropping from Isabella's neck, his expression shifting from desire to horror in the span of a heartbeat.
"Fuck," he breathed, stepping away, putting distance between them.
The phone kept ringing. Chloe's name lighting up the screen like an accusation.
"Liam—" Isabella started.
"This was a mistake," he snarled, his voice harsh and cold, all the warmth from seconds ago vanished. "A massive fucking mistake."
"It wasn't—"
"Yes, it was!" Liam grabbed his phone, silencing the call without answering it. His hands were shaking. "This can't happen. We can't—" He ran a hand through his hair, his control fracturing. "Christ, what was I thinking?"
"You were thinking the same thing I was thinking," Isabella said, her voice trembling but determined. "That maybe this is more than just a contract. That maybe we—"
"There is no 'we'!" Liam's voice was sharp enough to cut. "There's a legal arrangement. A business transaction. That's ALL this is."
"You were about to kiss me."
"I was about to make a mistake that would compromise everything." Liam's eyes were cold now, his walls rebuilt and reinforced. "The contract explicitly states no emotional involvement. No physical intimacy. I almost violated those terms."
"Because you want to," Isabella said desperately. "Because you feel—"
"What I feel is irrelevant!" The words exploded from him. "My company is on the line. My family's legacy. Everything I've built. I can't throw that away for..." He stopped, his jaw clenching. "For this."
For this. For her. For something that might actually matter.
Isabella felt tears burning her eyes but refused to let them fall. "So what? We just pretend this didn't happen? Pretend you didn't almost—"
"Yes," Liam said flatly. "That's exactly what we do. This moment never happened. It was late. We were tired. Temporary insanity brought on by proximity and exhaustion. That's all."
"That's not all and you know it."
"It has to be all." Liam's voice was final, absolute. "Because the alternative means losing everything. And I won't do that. Not for anyone."
Not even for you. The unspoken words hung in the air between them.
Liam turned toward his bedroom, his shoulders rigid with tension. "Go to bed, Ms. Hart. We have an early meeting tomorrow. I expect you to be professional."
"Professional," Isabella repeated numbly. "Right. Because that's what we are. Professional."
"That's all we are," Liam said without turning around. "And all we'll ever be."
He disappeared into his bedroom. The door closed. The lock clicked.
And Isabella stood alone in the kitchen, her hand still on the water bottle they'd both reached for, her lips still tingling from the kiss that never happened, her heart breaking from coming so close to something real only to have it ripped away.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. A text from an unknown number.
Saw the light on in the penthouse. Late night working with the boss? How... dedicated. - M
Marcus. Watching. Knowing. Waiting.
Isabella deleted the text with shaking hands and looked at the closed door of Liam's bedroom.
They'd almost crossed the line. Almost admitted what this really was. Almost stopped pretending.
And Chloe's phone call had saved them from the truth.
Or condemned them to keep living the lie.
Isabella wasn't sure which was worse.