The night of the party

Liam's POV: The night of the party 

The bass thumped like a heartbeat on steroids. Neon lights painted the walls of the club in wild streaks of red and violet, casting shadows on bodies grinding against one another like animals in heat. The smell hit Liam first—sweat, cheap perfume, and alcohol thick enough to choke on.

He tugged the brim of his cap lower, adjusted the collar of his black leather jacket, and scanned the crowd through darkened lenses.

"Westbrook's girl just arrived," said Kellan through the earpiece. "She’s wearing red. Alone. Upper balcony, 

Liam didn’t respond. He already spotted her.

Ariana Westbrook.

She swayed with a reckless grace—long legs, fiery curls bouncing, eyes half-closed as if the world didn't matter. The spoiled heiress was everything her father warned him about. Unpredictable. Wild. A ticking time bomb waiting to detonate the Westbrook legacy.

Liam made his way through the crowd, weaving between intoxicated bodies. His cover was airtight. To Ariana and her world, he was Logan Rivers, a newly assigned driver from her father’s security firm. But in reality, this night wasn’t about chauffeuring anyone.

It was a test.

Earlier that day, MrWestbrook himself had summoned Liam privately.

> “I need someone who can manage her,” he’d said, voice strained with disappointment. “Someone trained. Cold. Unshakeable. Think of this as your audition.”

An audition for what, Liam didn’t yet know. But his instincts told him MrWestbrook had something bigger in mind than chauffeuring. And Liam? He had his own reasons for accepting the job.

The lights flickered. Ariana twirled to the beat, laughing as a guy offered her a shot. She downed it like water.

But before Liam could move in, something caught his eye. A man—tall, scruffy, obviously drunk—stepped out of the shadows, walked straight up to her, and grabbed her by the waist.

Liam’s jaw tightened.

Ariana stumbled back, startled. But the man didn’t back off. He said something in her ear—she frowned—and then he kissed her. Hard. Without permission. Her hands pushed against his chest, but he held her firm.

Rage coiled in Liam’s chest.

He surged forward.

“Target compromised,” Kellan muttered, but Liam had already reached them.

One firm yank—and Ariana was free. Liam shoved the guy aside with a cold stare that said: Try me. The man staggered, cursed, but Liam didn’t look back.

“Let me go!” Ariana protested, wriggling against his grip. Her eyes were glazed, her breath laced with vodka.

“I’m your driver,” Liam said coolly, steadying her by the elbow. “Your father sent me.”

“My wha—?”

She barely got the word out before her knees buckled. Liam scooped her up effortlessly, ignoring the eyes on them, the phones that may have caught flashes. He carried her through the side exit where another black SUV waited.

“Is she okay?” asked the second man, stepping out to open the door.

“She will be,” Liam muttered, lowering her gently into the backseat.

Ariana blinked up at him, confused and furious. “I hate you already,” she mumbled before her head tilted and her eyes slipped closed.

Liam didn’t flinch. He stared at her sleeping form. Her flushed cheeks. The smear of lip gloss from the assault. The fragile, clueless heiress whose entire life was about to shift.

> She has no idea what she’s involved in…

As the car pulled away from the club, Liam slipped his earpiece off and made a quiet call.

“Mission complete. I’ve seen her.”

“And?” came the cold voice on the other end.

“She’s nothing like her father.”

He hung up.

_____________________________

–

Ariana sat in the backseat of the sleek, black SUV like a ticking bomb—arms folded, face stiff, lips pressed together so tightly they were losing color. The tinted windows reflected her mood—dark, impenetrable, and ready to explode.

Up front, Liam sat behind the wheel, one hand on the steering, the other adjusting the Bluetooth as soft jazz hummed through the speakers. Cool, calm, infuriating.

“I don’t want to talk,” Ariana snapped, for the fifth time that morning.

“I didn’t ask you to,” Liam replied smoothly, eyes fixed on the road.

His tone was flat. Bored, even. That only fueled her irritation.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she spat. “Driving me around like some disobedient child under house arrest.”

“No, Miss Westbrook,” Liam said calmly, his voice annoyingly steady. “I was hired to ensure your safety and timely arrival to campus. That’s all.”

She scoffed and looked out the window. “Of course. A robot.”

The corner of Liam’s lip lifted faintly, almost a smirk—but it disappeared before she could call it out.

They pulled into the university parking lot, the morning sun gleaming off the SUV’s surface. Students were already flooding the campus—Then, as Liam stepped out and opened her door, heads began to turn.

“Whoa. Who’s that?”

“Is that her new bodyguard?”

“No way that’s a driver… that’s a model in disguise.”

Ariana could feel the stares slicing through her already thin skin.

And worse—she could hear the whispers.

> “Did you see the video? She was totally wasted at that party.”

“Yeah, and that guy literally kissed her like—ugh. Her dad must be furious.”

“That’s why she came with a bodyguard now. Total scandal.”

Ariana flinched as if the words physically hit her. She turned to Liam, eyes blazing. “You don’t need to walk me in. I’m not a child.”

But he was already standing at her side, sunglasses on, hands clasped professionally in front of him. “Your father insisted.”

“I insist otherwise,” she hissed.

“Unfortunately, you don’t sign my paycheck.”

Her jaw dropped in fury. He started walking. She stayed frozen in place.

Then she realized—everyone was watching. Everyone. Their eyes weren’t just on her… they were on him, too.

Liam moved with the posture of a man trained in precision. His steps were calculated, sharp. His presence commanding. And damn him, he looked good doing it.

Six-foot-four. Clean-shaven jaw. A faint scar just beneath his lower lip. Black-on-black attire that clung just right, with a silver watch glinting on his wrist. He looked like a character out of a high-budget N*****x series.

And that only made her more irritated.

She stomped after him, practically boiling with rage.

He slipped off his shades and looked at her directly for the first time that morning. His eyes—steely grey—were unreadable.

“I’ll be waiting in the car, Miss Westbrook,” he said, voice calm, laced with something dangerously unreadable.

Ariana narrowed her eyes, stepped close, and growled, “You’re insufferable.”

And just as she turned to enter the lecture hall, she muttered under her breath—

> “F**k you.”

Liam didn’t flinch. He simply slid the sunglasses back on, turned, and walked away 

But behind those lenses, a smile flickered.

He’d seen defiance before—but none as deliciously dangerous as hers.

---

The moment the door shut behind her, Logan—no, Liam—walked back to the SUV without a word.

His face remained stoic, unreadable to anyone watching. But the moment he slid into the driver’s seat and closed the door behind him, his fingers reached for the e

arpiece discreetly lodged in his inner collar.

He clicked the hidden button and waited.

A low beep. Then a voice crackled through the line.

> “Report.”