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under his control 26
Liam’s POV I’ve faced down boardrooms of billionaires. Been in rooms where silence was sharper than a knife. I’ve been betrayed by men who once called me brother and rebuilt my empire from ash. But I have never felt fear like this. The kind that doesn’t scream—it whispers. Curls around your spine. Sinks its claws into the back of your throat. Because Ava is missing. And I don’t know where the hell she is. Twelve hours earlier, she kissed me goodbye. It was early morning, her hair in a messy bun, wearing my old T-shirt and sipping black coffee like she was preparing for war. “I’m going to confront Eliot,” she said. I’d paused mid-buttoning my shirt. “Absolutely not.” “I need answers,” she said. “Face-to-face. I want him to see that I’m not afraid of him.” “He’s not just a man, Ava. He’s a weapon. Victoria’s weapon. He manipulated you, forged documents under your name—he won’t just admit it over croissants and espresso.” “I’m not expecting a confession. I’m expecting to wat
under his control 25
Ava’s POV The forged marriage certificate had been shocking. But not this. Not this. Morgan slammed the door behind her, breath ragged, a folded document crushed in her hand. Her eyes were wide—too wide. “Sit,” she ordered. I didn’t argue. My heart was already hammering. Liam turned from the window, his jaw tight. “What is it?” Morgan held out the document. Her hand was shaking. “I pulled Victoria’s travel logs,” she said. “I wanted to trace where she’d been before she showed up at your engagement dinner. Thought I’d find a bribe trail. A shell account. Something easy.” She handed it to Liam. “She was in Geneva last month,” she said. “For exactly three days.” I blinked. “Geneva?” Morgan nodded, slowly, like the words were choking her. “And she met with someone in Ava’s office.” I felt the floor tilt beneath me. “No,” I whispered. Liam’s brow furrowed. “Who?” Morgan swallowed. “Eliot Renner.” My stomach dropped. “Eliot… was my boss in Geneva,” I said slowly. “He r
under his control 24
Ava’s POVLiam Carter’s idea of a small engagement dinner was, apparently, a rooftop soirée catered by a five-star chef, with fairy lights, live jazz, and place cards written in calligraphy so ornate I wasn’t sure if I’d been invited or knighted.Jenna showed up with a folder labeled “Operation Wedding Domination”, while Morgan immediately began critiquing the wine like a snob possessed.“This rosé has notes of betrayal,” she declared, swirling her glass.“It’s literally pink grape juice,” I said.“Exactly,” she replied gravely.Liam hadn’t left my side all evening, his fingers brushing mine every chance he got. He was relaxed tonight. Happy. And dare I say it—giddy. I’d never seen him like this. It was almost alarming.“This might be your final transformation,” I teased. “From corporate villain to romantic marshmallow.”“I’m still terrifying,” he said.“You’re wearing a boutonnière made of lavender.”“Which smells amazing, and I regret nothing.”I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “You
under his control 23
Ava’s POVI always thought Liam Carter was incapable of nervousness.He ran boardrooms like battlegrounds, faced down billionaires without blinking, and had no qualms threatening a security camera if it dared catch him sneezing. (That happened. He called it “optical warfare.”)But this?This was different.He was pacing.In a straight line. In socks. Across the same rug.And not his usual “I’m about to drop a press bomb” pacing.This was fidgety, hesitant, human pacing.Which was mildly terrifying.“Okay, you’re making me seasick,” I said from the couch, sipping my coffee. “Sit down before you burn a hole through the carpet.”He paused. Looked at me.Then kept pacing.I blinked. “Liam?”“I need to tell you something.”“Okay.”“It’s… it’s not bad. I mean, it’s technically not a scandal.”“You’re really selling this.”He stopped in front of me, ran a hand through his hair, and exhaled.“I want you to meet someone.”My brain immediately pulled up a million terrifying possibilities.Ex-wi
under his control 22
Ava’s POVI woke to the smell of espresso, something cinnamon-adjacent burning in the kitchen, and Liam Carter singing badly to a Frank Sinatra record like he had lost a bet with the universe.It was glorious.I rolled over and stretched, my body still humming from the whirlwind of last night’s midnight amusement park escapade and flower shop chaos. It felt surreal, almost like a fever dream—except the glitter from the cotton candy was still stuck in my hair and my hoodie smelled vaguely of Ferris wheel grease and cheap perfume.The door creaked open.Liam stood in the doorway holding a tray: two mugs, something resembling toast, and a bowl of fruit that looked far too curated to be natural.He was shirtless. Hair is a mess. Grinning like a man who knew he’d won something.“Morning, queen of chaos,” he said.“Morning, king of delusion,” I replied, sitting up.He set the tray down and kissed my temple.“I attempted breakfast,” he announced proudly. “Minimal casualties this time. The to
under his control 21
Ava’s POVSome nights, peace feels like silence.Other nights, it feels like Liam Carter banging pots around in the kitchen and whisper-yelling “shhh” every time he drops something.I blinked groggily and rolled over, expecting soft morning light.Instead, I saw darkness. The clock glared at 12:47 a.m.He was up. Clattering.And humming something that sounded suspiciously like The Lion Sleeps Tonight.I sat up slowly. “Is the kitchen under siege?”He froze. “No. Just... uh, preparing a surprise.”“At one in the morning?”“Yes.”I squinted. “Is it edible?”He looked at the pan in his hand and then back at me. “Define edible.”“Oh god.”He put the pan down and walked toward me, uncharacteristically giddy. His tie was crooked, his hair mussed, and he smelled like a cinnamon stick had lost a fight with a whiskey bottle.“Put on something warm,” he said, eyes dancing.“Why?”“Because I’m taking you somewhere.”“At 1 a.m.?”“Exactly.”“Is it legal?”“Mostly.”“Will I need bail money?”“Only
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