CHAPTER SEVEN: DRUNK CONFESSIONS AND SECRET STROLLS

Liam walked over to Ava, his gaze steady, not leaving her face for a second. There was a softness in his eyes, like he was searching for something beyond the surface.

“What’s the problem?” he asked gently, his voice low and comforting, almost like a whisper meant just for her.

He stepped in closer, his hand lightly brushing a strand of her hair away from her face. He didn’t move back. His face was just inches from hers now, close enough for her to feel his breath.

“Are you still getting trouble getting over him?” he asked again, his voice coated with concern, his brows slightly furrowed.

Ava gave a small, tired laugh. There was a hint of wine on her breath and a bit of wobble in her stance. She tried to duck under his arm to walk away, but Liam was quick. He moved, placing his hand firmly on the wall beside her head, blocking her way. She chuckled again, a tipsy smirk on her lips.

“It’s not like that,” she said, her words slightly slurred.

Liam stepped aside, finally letting her pass. Ava stumbled toward the nearby sofa, grabbing a half-empty wine bottle as she dropped into the seat. She poured herself another drink and started downing it like water. Liam followed quietly, sitting beside her, watching.

She tilted the bottle again, her eyes getting glassier by the second.

Liam’s eyes crinkled slightly as he watched her. He didn’t interrupt. He waited, giving her time.

Ava took a deep breath, holding the bottle in her lap like it was her lifeline. The words tumbled out of her in a rush.

“And it’s not like I can’t move on from him. I just feel worthless,” she murmured, her voice breaking, barely audible. “I was with him for five years, and now I don’t want to do anything with those rich people.”

Liam said nothing for a moment. His face stayed neutral, unreadable. But his eyes… they stared right into her, full of something she couldn’t name.

Then he spoke, slow and deliberate.

“Well, I wouldn’t be sure of that,” he said, his voice thoughtful and calm. “What if another wealthy guy came along?”

Ava raised her eyebrows, a flicker of humor dancing in her eyes despite the sadness.

“You know there’s a saying right? You can’t step in the same dog shit twice,” she said with a grin, her voice playful, but her pain still there underneath.

Liam laughed, his eyes crinkling more now, a genuine laugh bubbling up from his chest.

“Hypothetically, what if I were super rich?” he asked, tilting his head, teasing her.

Ava turned to face him fully, her expression shifting into one of seriousness. She squinted at him, surprised.

“You!?” she said with a half-laugh, throwing her head back in disbelief.

Liam’s eyes wandered briefly to her lips, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re just a security guard,” she added, poking him in the chest. Her voice was thick with drunken teasing. “You can’t even afford to buy a new suit.”

She snorted a little, leaning forward and slurring, “Just stop dreaming, I’m gonna take care of you.”

Liam chuckled again, shaking his head. His voice was a little quieter this time.

“Well, at least I’m not like the Smith boy,” he said.

Ava immediately responded, her voice rising in protest.

“No, you are not. You are much more handsome.”

Her hand reached out, her fingers gently gripping his chin. Her eyes met his without wavering.

“You are a lot more handsome,” she repeated, this time her voice stripped of jokes and full of something real.

For a few long seconds, they stared at each other. The air between them thickened. Liam slowly leaned in, his eyes half-closed, lips inches from hers…

But before they could kiss, Ava slumped back into the chair with a thud, her body going limp from all the alcohol. Her head lolled to one side as she passed out, dead drunk.

Liam blinked, caught off guard.

“Oh, hey, hey, no way, you drunk off one and a half bottles?” he said in disbelief, glancing at the table covered in bottles.

Just then, James approached them from the garage, looking composed as always.

“Sir, your car is ready,” James said.

Liam stood up and nodded, then bent down to gently lift Ava into his arms like she weighed nothing.

“Good,” he muttered. Cradling her, he spoke softly, “Come on, honey, come on.”

He carried her to his sleek black car, carefully laying her down inside. Once she was secured, he closed the door and began walking around to the driver’s seat.

James stood nearby, eyeing Ava’s small, sticker-covered car.

“Sir? Where to?” James asked.

Liam tossed a key toward him.

“Oakwood Ave. You’re driving this thing?” he asked, pointing at Ava’s colorful, beat-up car.

James caught the key, his brow lifting as he looked the car up and down. Stickers of random quotes, cats, and cartoon faces covered the car like graffiti on a wall.

“Is this still drivable, sir?” James asked, looking baffled.

Liam gave him a sharp look.

“Unless you want it to go straight to the junkyard?” James said seriously.

“That I can do, Mr. Hamilton.”

But Liam wasn’t done. His voice lowered, and he stared at Ava’s car like it carried a sacred memory.

“Do you have any idea how precious this thing is?” he asked, deadly serious.

For a moment, his mind drifted back. He remembered Ava, scrubbing the car with care, smiling at it like it was her baby.

“This is my prized possession, it’s like a son to me,” she had once said, grinning.

Liam’s eyes turned sharp again.

“One scratch, one dent, and you’re dead,” he said, pointing a warning finger at James.

James blinked, confused but obedient, and nodded.

With that, Liam turned and climbed into his car.

James, now alone with Ava’s sticker-covered car, tried the door handle. It wouldn’t budge. He pulled harder, grunted, and then stepped back, baffled.

“Locked,” he muttered.

Just as he turned to call Liam for the keys, he saw the black car pulling out of the garage, tires rolling smoothly over the concrete.

“Sir!” James called out.

But Liam didn’t stop.

“Sir…” James tried again, but it was too late. Liam had already driven off.

Later that night, Liam parked in front of Ava’s apartment. The neighborhood was nothing like where he lived—tiny buildings, narrow sidewalks, flickering streetlights. He leaned on the car, arms folded, waiting.

A few minutes later, James finally arrived in Ava’s car, slightly out of breath.

“What took you so long?” Liam asked, raising one eyebrow.

James gestured toward the two vehicles.

“These two cars are completely in a different league, boss,” he replied, shaking his head. “I couldn’t keep up with you.”

Liam wasn’t amused. He just stared at him flatly.

“Park it and take an Uber home,” he ordered, then opened his door.

As he bent down to help Ava out of the car, James looked around, taking in the surroundings.

“Sir, are you two living here?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

His eyes moved from the neighborhood to Ava, and back to Liam.

“When are you gonna take your wife home?” he added curiously.

He glanced at the worn-down buildings, the cracked sidewalks, the rusty fences. It was a world away from Liam’s mansion.

“Not yet,” Liam said quickly, then narrowed his eyes at James. “And don’t tell my mother about this.”

James nodded dramatically, zipping his lips shut with a finger.

Liam nodded once, satisfied, then gently pulled Ava from the car.

“Come on, one foot after the other,” he murmured, guiding her up the steps. “Here you go, here we go, come on.”

He carried her bridal-style, her head resting against his chest. When he reached her door, he used his foot to push it open and walked inside.

James remained standing on the sidewalk, looking around in disbelief.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

He shook his head slowly, still watching the door Liam had disappeared through.

“Living in a place like this… I’ve never seen the boss so invested in a woman before.”