The conference room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Amelia sat at the long table, flipping through the printouts for the upcoming pitch. Her focus was scattered, as it had been for days. The numbers blurred together, and the outlines in front of her looked like fragments of a plan she couldn't fully grasp.
Her heart sank when she heard the door open.
She knew it was him before she turned.
Liam Blackthorne stepped inside, confident and unhurried, dressed in his usual sharp dark suit. He looked completely at ease, while Amelia felt like every breath she took lately was tight, shallow.
"You're early," she said, trying to keep her tone even.
"I prefer to be," he replied, taking the seat beside her instead of at the head of the table.
That was new.
Usually, Liam kept a formal distance in meetings—unless, of course, he didn't want to. Today, he was right next to her, his cologne subtle but maddening, his presence overwhelming.
"I reviewed the draft," he said, nodding toward the documents. "Strong structure, but you need a sharper hook. Something that grabs them in the first minute."
"I've been working on that," Amelia murmured.
"I know." He leaned in slightly, just enough that his shoulder brushed hers. "But I think you'd benefit from some guidance. Directly from me."
She stilled. "You mean… you want to work with me on it?"
"Yes," Liam said simply. "This project is important. And so are you."
Her heart did an involuntary flip.
He said it so easily. So naturally. But every time he made these little declarations, Amelia felt like the ground beneath her shifted a little more.
"I appreciate the offer," she said carefully. "But I can handle it."
"I'm sure you can." His smile was faint, almost amused. "But sometimes, collaboration leads to something more refined. Or surprising."
Or dangerous, she thought.
Still, she nodded. Refusing outright would only raise more questions.
"All right," she agreed. "We can go through the pitch together."
"Tonight." His tone was casual, but decisive. "After hours. No distractions."
Amelia blinked. "Tonight?"
"Unless you're busy?"
She wasn't. Not officially. But emotionally, mentally—she was stretched to a breaking point.
Still, she said, "No. Tonight's fine."
He smiled again, slower this time, like he already knew her answer before she said it.
"Good," he said. "I'll have my assistant clear your evening."
By eight-thirty, the office was mostly empty.
The only lights on were in the executive suite, where Amelia sat once again with Liam—this time across from him at the smaller, more intimate strategy room, a place rarely used by anyone but him.
A fresh pot of coffee steamed between them, and soft jazz played low from hidden speakers. Everything about the setting felt curated. Deliberate.
She couldn't shake the feeling she was being drawn into something — not entirely against her will.
Liam's sleeves were rolled up, his tie loosened, and for once, he looked… less like the impenetrable CEO and more like a man trying to let her in.
And that was the most dangerous part.
They'd been working for an hour, refining her pitch deck, adjusting the structure, adding sharper transitions. Every time she made a suggestion, Liam didn't just listen—he challenged her, pushed her to be better. It was exhilarating. Infuriating.
But somewhere between their fourth round of revisions and a quiet shared laugh about a misprint, something shifted.
He leaned back, watching her.
"You're different than most people I work with," he said suddenly.
She looked up from her notes. "Because I talk back?"
"Because you're not trying to impress me. You're trying to prove something to yourself."
Amelia hesitated. "Is that a bad thing?"
"No," Liam said. "It's rare. And it means you'll never let anyone control your path."
The irony of his words struck her like a slap.
She swallowed. "Even when someone tries?"
His gaze didn't waver. "I'm not trying to control you, Amelia. I'm trying to help you rise."
"But you do control things," she said quietly. "You know that."
There was a long pause.
Then he said, "Yes. I do. But I've never wanted to control you. I want to see what happens when you're unleashed."
She didn't know whether to be flattered or afraid.
"Is that why you offered to help with the pitch?" she asked.
"It's one reason."
"And the others?"
Liam didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stood and walked to the window, looking out at the glowing skyline of Manhattan.
Finally, he said, "I don't always know how to keep things separate, Amelia. Business. Loyalty. Desire."
Her breath caught.
He turned toward her. "But I know that I trust you in a way I don't trust most people."
She rose slowly, trying to hold onto her composure.
"Trust," she echoed. "Is that what this is?"
"It's the start of something," Liam said. "Whether it's trust. Or something more."
Her heart thundered.
"This is work, Liam," she said softly, even as her hands trembled. "We're colleagues. You're my boss."
"Is that the only thing stopping you?"
She didn't answer.
Because it wasn't.
The real thing stopping her was the knowledge that once she let herself fall, there'd be no going back.
But still, she whispered, "I don't know what this is between us."
Liam took a step closer. "Then let me help you figure it out."
His words were a promise and a warning.
And Amelia, despite every rational part of her mind screaming at her to be careful, didn't step away when he reached for her hand.
They didn't kiss. Not yet. But the silence between them was thick with everything unsaid.
She looked at his hand holding hers.
"Thank you for helping with the pitch," she said, her voice unsteady.
"I wasn't just helping with the pitch," Liam replied.
And she knew that.
Knew it too well.
That night, alone in her apartment, Amelia lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her phone buzzed softly with a message from Julian—a short, professional note asking about tomorrow's investor meeting.
Julian. The man who had been careful, respectful, and yet… present. Always watching. Always aware.
She replied quickly, then put the phone face down.
But even in the quiet, she couldn't stop replaying Liam's words.
I trust you. I want to see what happens when you're unleashed.
There was a time she would've given anything to be mentored by someone like him.
Now, she wasn't sure if she was being mentored—or consumed.
And despite her doubts, her hesitation… her heart didn't feel afraid.
It felt ready.
And that terrified her most of all.