Chapter Six

Daisy POV

The conference room was quiet, the faint hum of the air conditioning a soft backdrop to my pounding heartbeat. I kept my head down over my notebook, forcing my pen to move, pretending that the calculations, the notes, the strategy drafts could distract me from what I felt. From him.

From Liam.

Every time I looked up, I caught the faint shadow of him in the doorway. Always observing, always deliberate. I hated how aware I was of his presence, how every subtle shift of his posture made my pulse spike. I hated that I wanted to notice.

And yet, I couldn’t.

I tried to focus on the numbers in front of me the charts, the projections, the strategies but it was impossible. My mind kept drifting back to that morning, to his quiet praise, to the way he had leaned closer than necessary, the faint brush of his arm against mine, the warmth of his presence so close I could feel it even without touching.

It was maddening. Dangerous. And it was just the beginning.

The room emptied gradually. Most of the other executives had gone to the lounge, chatting and laughing. I remained, finishing a report, pretending to concentrate. I didn’t notice Liam at first. But then the soft scrape of his shoes against the polished floor froze me mid-word.

He was there, leaning casually against the doorframe, watching me. That faint smirk calculated, deliberate made my stomach twist.

“You’re still here,” he said quietly. Not a question. An observation.

“I… I wanted to finish this,” I replied, careful, keeping my voice steady, though my hands shook slightly.

He didn’t respond immediately. He simply stepped closer, and I felt the heat of his body, the deliberate proximity that made every nerve in me tense. My brain screamed at me to step back, to focus, to maintain every ounce of professional control I had left. My body… betrayed me.

“Daisy,” he murmured, voice low, the word vibrating through me. My pen faltered. “You’ve been on my mind all day. Every detail. Every move. And I can’t… not think about you.”

My chest tightened. I should have walked away. I should have told him to stop. But I couldn’t. Every instinct, every fleeting, irrational desire, pulled me closer, and before I knew it, he was standing right behind me.

He guided me gently, deliberately, toward the corner of the room. My hands froze on the notebook, and my heart nearly leapt from my chest. “Liam…” I whispered, the word a mix of warning and… something else I wasn’t ready to name.

“I can’t resist you,” he admitted, low and rough, almost a growl. My stomach quivered at the sound. His hands rested lightly on my waist, just enough to ground me without overwhelming me, and I realized how fragile my control was.

I wanted to pull away. I wanted to resist. And yet, I leaned forward, drawn in by the tension, by the heat, by the undeniable pull between us.

And then his lips were on mine. Gentle at first, testing. I stiffened instinctively, but the small inhale I allowed myself betrayed my need. His hand moved to cup my cheek, thumb brushing softly against my jaw, grounding and daring me all at once.

It was wrong. It was reckless. It was… everything.

I pressed my hands against his chest, feeling the strength, the warmth, the pull that made my body ache in ways I hadn’t allowed myself to feel.

He deepened the kiss, careful, deliberate, as if every motion were measured to ignite and soothe simultaneously.

My mind screamed with all the reasons this was impossible, while my body responded in ways I couldn’t control.

“Daisy…” he whispered against my lips, pulling back just enough to let me breathe. “Do you feel it too?”

I nodded, unable to speak, my fingers clutching his jacket lightly as if to anchor myself. My mind spun. This was Liam Villarreal controlled, professional, untouchable and yet here he was, letting himself fall just as I was.

The kiss lingered, electric and loaded with unspoken promises and dangers. My body felt every brush, every touch, every heartbeat, as if it existed solely to respond to him. And I hated that I couldn’t stop.

When he finally pulled back enough to look into my eyes, I saw something raw, something dangerous. Desire, yes but also conflict, restraint, calculation.

He wasn’t reckless. He was measured, even in this intimate moment. And that made it all the more intoxicating.

“I shouldn’t,” he said, voice low and strained. “You’re… you’re brilliant, cautious, and I’m… I’m a fool for wanting this.”

“I… I shouldn’t either,” I admitted, voice trembling. “But I… I can’t stop thinking—”

“Shh,” he interrupted softly, pressing a finger to my lips, silencing the chaos of my thoughts. “Don’t think. Feel. Just… feel.”

And I did. I felt everything the warmth of his hand, the strength of his embrace, the heat of his lips, the pulse of tension that bound us. Every rational thought fled. Every professional boundary dissolved in the intensity of that moment.

We stayed pressed together, forehead to forehead, breathing in unison, hands tracing hesitant, electrifying paths. I wanted to say something anything but words failed me. Every syllable would have been inadequate to express the storm inside me.

Finally, he stepped back slightly, just enough to give air, but not enough to release the magnetic pull. “This… isn’t over,” he murmured, lips barely brushing mine one last time. “And when we’re apart, it’s going to be unbearable.”

I nodded, chest heaving, flushed, trembly. “I… I know.”

We separated reluctantly, my hands still lightly brushing against him as if letting go were impossible. He returned to the doorway, leaning casually as if nothing had happened, but the tension between us was tangible, thick, unbroken.

I returned to my notebook, pretending to focus, but every word I wrote was meaningless. Every number, every calculation, every strategy was overshadowed by the memory of his lips, the feel of his hands, the overwhelming pull of him.

By the time I left the room, the hallway felt charged, almost dangerous. Every shadow seemed to echo our moment, every quiet hum of the resort reminding me that nothing would be simple anymore.

I knew Liam felt it too. I saw it in the way he looked at me, the way he lingered near the doorway, every step deliberate, every movement careful but filled with intention.

I had always been cautious. I had always been careful. But something about him about us defied caution, defied logic, defied every rule I had lived by.

And I didn’t know how to stop it.

I didn’t want to.

Because even in the midst of fear, guilt, and uncertainty, there was a spark. A connection. A pull that neither of us could deny. And I knew whatever happened next, it would change everything.