The rain had stopped, leaving Chicago's streets shining under the morning sun. I woke up in Liam's guest room, the sheets soft and cool against my skin, the faint hum of the city filtering through the window. It had been a week since I'd moved in after the break-in at my place, and somehow, the days had slipped into a comfortable rhythm. No big talks about what was next just us, sharing the space, making the most of it. I strolled downstairs, my bare feet quiet on the wood floors. The kitchen smelled like fresh coffee and something baking muffins, maybe. Liam was there, in his usual spot at the stove, stirring a pot of oatmeal. He looked up when I entered, his smile easy and bright. "Morning, Nita. Sleep okay?" "Yeah, pretty good," I said, sliding onto a stool at the counter. "What's on the menu today, chef?" He chuckled, spooning oatmeal into bowls. "Oatmeal with blueberries and a dash of cinnamon. Nothing fancy, but I Sam sure you will love it." He pushed a bowl my way, along wit
Liam’s place was in the exotic part of the city, a sleek townhouse with tall windows and warm wood floors, nothing like my cozy, cluttered home. The rain tapped the roof as he led me inside, flipping on lights that cast a soft glow. It smelled of coffee and leather, with a hint of his cedar soap that made my chest ache. He set my bag by the stairs, turning to me, his face softer now but still tight with worry.“You okay?” he asked, stepping closer, his hands in his pockets like he was fighting the urge to reach for me.I shook my head, the weight of everything crashing down. “Not really,” I said, my voice cracking. “Someone was in my house, Liam. They went through my stuff, left that note… I’m scared.”He closed the gap, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me into his chest. I froze, then melted into him, my face pressed against his shirt, his heartbeat steady under my cheek. “You’re safe here,” he murmured, his voice low, his hand stroking my hair. “I won’t let anything happen to y
The plane ride back to Chicago was quiet, the dull roar of the engines couldn’t be compared to the wild pulse of Greece. Liam sat beside me, his laptop closed for once, his eyes fixed on the window, where clouds blurred into gray. I could still feel the warmth of his lips from that cove, the way his fingers laced through mine in the water, his voice calling me home under the Greek sun. But the threats; the text, the note followed us like shadows, and my phone stayed silent in my bag, heavy with the fear of another message. I stole glances at him, his jaw tight, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach for me but didn’t know how. Greece had cracked something open between us, but back in Chicago, I wasn’t sure what we’d find.We landed late, the city’s lights smearing through the rain-streaked windows of the cab. Liam dropped me off at my house, a small brick place in the quiet part of chicago, its front steps slick with November drizzle. “Call me if you need anything,” he said, hi
As soon as I got to my room, I picked out my phone from my bag with shaky hands, expecting to see another threat but it was just a text from Aunt Natty.I sank onto the bed, the white linens cool, my floral, a gift from Liam on our first trip together to Dubai draped over the chair, sparking memories of our penthouse mornings: coffee, his teasing about my burnt toast, his warm hugs. Aunt Natty had been digging into Liam’s accident, her silver hair and fierce eyes a constant in my life since my mother, Margaret Monroe died in a fire accident. With the threats flying around, all I could think about was how much time I had left. MG and Clarisse had followed me, even here, thousands of miles away.I knew I needed to act fast and most importantly figure out my mother's link to all of these.I opened Aunt Natty’s text: *Call me, urgent. Good and bad news.* My hands trembled, the intimacy of her role in my fight grounding me, but fear of what she’d found tightened my chest.I dialed, the
“Sounds like she’s trying to tell you something,” I said, my voice soft. “Maybe you should listen.”He looked at me, his eyes deep and searching, like he was trying to see through me. “Maybe I am,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Do you ever feel like you know someone, even when you don’t?”“All the time,” I said, my throat tight. I set my cup down, my hand shaking, and before I could think, I reached for his. His fingers closed around mine, warm and steady, and for a second, we just sat there, the sea crashing below, the world holding its breath.Then he grinned, breaking the spell. “Come on,” he said, tugging me up. “Let’s do something stupid.”“Worse than a scooter ride with you?” I teased, but I let him pull me toward the cove’s edge. A narrow path zigzagged down to the water, and he started down it, his hand still in mine. The rocks were warm under my feet, the air salty and sharp. At the bottom, the cove was a perfect crescent, the water so clear it looked like it was
Liam and I walked back from the beach, hand in hand. I could still feel our kiss burning on my lips. His arm caressed mine, sending sparks up my spine, and I could feel him stealing glances, like he was trying to figure out what had just happened between us. My phone stayed silent in my pocket, the threatening text and note from last night were pushed to the back of my mind. For now, it was just us, the sea’s soft wave hummed, and the feeling of something alive waking up inside me.The next day, the Grey Group’s schedule was light, just a quick check-in with the team, leaving the afternoon wide open. I was sitting on the long L-shaped couch, the Greek sun blazing through my balcony door. I was reading my favorite Colleen Hoover book when there was a small knock, and the door opened.I knew it was Liam.“No work this afternoon,” he said, leaning close, his voice low and playful. “Let’s get out of here. Somewhere fun.”“Fun?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to hide how much his smile got