Semua Bab SECRETS AND SEDUCTIONS: Bab 61 - Bab 65

~SCARLETT. I lay flat on my stomach, chin resting on my crossed arms, staring at the scratched-up headboard in front of me. I’d been fixating on those faded streaks in the wood for four days straight because if I didn’t, I’d start thinking about other things. Dangerous things. Like Liam’s hand. My body still remembered every inch of it, burned into me like a brand. After he left me on the floor, I didn’t move for ten solid minutes. Couldn’t. I just lay there, heat pulsing through every nerve ending, legs trembling, and chest rising too fast as anger coiled deep in my gut. When I finally stood, my thighs were jelly and my ass was on fire. Performing that night? Not a chance in hell. I limped to Rick’s office, mumbled something about food poisoning, and braced for the explosion. He didn’t disappoint: face red, stapler slammed, ranting about “lost profits” and “useless girls.” I tuned out halfway through. Told him I’d be out the nex

~LIAM. I always thought I was a rational man. In all my thirty years of life, I’d never let jealousy crawl under my skin. Why would I? Relationships weren’t part of the plan. They were distractions. Messy, emotional time bombs I was trained to avoid. After Marcus pulled Jake, Kelvin, and me out of that hellhole at eighteen, everything became singular: serve the Foundation, bleed through the training, and rise to the top. Attachments? Never in the blueprint. Sure, I had flings. Easy. Forgettable. No mess. No risk. No one who mattered. So someone explain to me… Why did I have this burning urge to smash this kid’s face in? The moment I saw him holding her—like he had any fucking right—one thought lit my brain like wildfire: Another man was touching what was mine. And not just any man. The same little shit I’d punished her for grinding against. If she hadn’t pulled away when she did, I swear to fucking God, I would’ve shattered his jaw

~LIAM. Pain. Fierce, pulsing, vindictive pain. It radiated through me like a curse as I doubled over, slipping from the couch and crashing onto my knees, hands instinctively guarding what was left of my dignity. Speechless, I stayed down: breath knocked out of me, furious, stunned, and aching in places a man should never ache. “This is the last time you ever lay a hand on me,” she said calmly, still seated like nothing had happened. “Next time, I won’t be so nice.” Air wouldn’t come. Thoughts scattered. But her voice pushed through the fog, clear and unshaken. “I think it’s time for you to leave now, neighbor.” That smile—smug, cold, satisfied—turned the word into a blade. Not a word left my mouth. What the hell could I possibly say? Still hunched, I pushed myself to my feet and exited the house. Every step sent a fresh wave of agony through me, but I didn’t stop until I crossed the street and nearly collided with the moving truck parked outside the