Liam stood at the edge of the pool, the water lapping at his ankles. He looked at Lisa first, a nod so slight it was barely there. “Lisa.”
Lisa grinned, treading water. “Mr. Thorn. Nice pool. Nice… everything.” Her eyes swept over him, the defined muscles of his chest and stomach, the dark trail of hair leading into his swim trunks. The flirtation was a reflex, bright and easy.
He didn’t react. His gaze cut through the steam, past her, and locked onto Elena. He moved into the water, a slow, deliberate walk against the resistance. The water parted for him, rising to his waist, then his chest. He stopped right in front of her, close enough that the heat from his body warred with the pool’s warmth.
Elena’s breath hitched. The chlorine scent was sharp. Water droplets clung to his lashes, making his blue eyes brighter, harder. She could see the muscle near his collarbone, the tension in his jaw.
“Elena.” His voice was low, a vibration under the hum of the filtration system. “Last night. At dinner. I was…” He stops. Jaw tight. “out of line.”
The apology landed like a stone in the water. Simple. Direct. No excuses.
“What?” Lisa echoed from a few feet away, her laugh short. “What happened at dinner. Something spicy?”
Neither of them looked at her. Liam’s eyes stayed on Elena’s face, waiting. Elena saw the effort it cost him. The rigid set of his shoulders, the way his throat worked as he swallowed. This wasn’t the controlled businessman or the commanding lover. This was something raw, unearthed. Someone so prideful… Openly apologizing.
She didn’t think. She moved. Her arms went around his neck, her wet skin sliding against his. She pressed her cheek to his shoulder, felt the solid, unyielding reality of him. He was tense for a heartbeat, then his arms came around her back, one hand splaying between her shoulder blades, pulling her in tight. The embrace was short, fierce. A silent acceptance. A reset of all the tension from the night before.
When she pulled back, his hands lingered on her hips for a second before falling away.
Lisa was there instantly. She pushed through the water, getting right in his space, her chin tilted up to meet his gaze. She looked him over, not with desire now, but with a cold, assessing scrutiny. She was five-two to his five-ten, but she didn’t seem small.
“Listen up, Mr. Boss,” she said, her voice losing all its playful edge. It was flat. Serious. “You better be good to her. You'd better keep her safe. Or you’ll have me to deal with. And I’m a lot more annoying than I look.”
Liam didn’t interrupt her. Instead, Elena watched as the faintest curve appeared at the corner of his mouth. He was amused!
“Alright,” Lisa said, crossing her arms. "Let’s skip the part where we pretend nothing’s going on.”
Liam didn’t move. “And what do you think is going on?”
“You want her, of course.”
Liam just looked at her, unmoving. His eyes shifted to Elena. “Is it that obvious?”
Elena started to blush, hearing the words spoken out loud between them.
“Lisa, stop!—We’re leaving,” Elena said, the embarrassment a hot crawl up her neck. She couldn’t look at Liam anymore. She turned and hauled herself out of the pool, water streaming from her body onto the dark tile. She grabbed her towel, not bothering to dry off, just wrapping it around herself.
Lisa followed, shooting one last, hard look at Liam, who hadn’t moved. He just watched them go, his expression unreadable.
The air in the hallway was cool, raising goosebumps on their skin. They didn’t speak on the way upstairs, the slap of their wet feet on the marble the only sound. Inside Elena’s room, they dropped their towels. Elena went to the wardrobe, pulling out jeans and a soft sweater.
“What the hell was that?” Lisa muttered, wrestling her clothes back on. “The apology was… okay, fine. But what’s with the tension between you two?
Elena didn’t answer. She was thinking about the feel of his hand on her back, the way he’d held on.
Lisa flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Okay, so… that was either incredibly romantic or the beginning of a psychological thriller. I haven’t decided which.”
Elena huffed a quiet breath, still standing by the wardrobe. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being observant,” Lisa shot back, propping herself up on her elbows. “Hot, emotionally repressed billionaire gives intense apology, followed by silent eye contact and tension you could cut with a knife?” She pointed at Elena. “What has me is why? I want to know what it was for.”
Elena shook her head, but there was no real heat in it. “He said he was sorry. That’s it.”
Lisa’s gaze softened slightly. “Yeah. And you melted.”
Elena turned away before she could see her expression. “I don’t want to discuss it more.”
Lisa grabbed her backpack from where she’d dropped it by the desk. As she swung it up, a strap caught on the ornate corner of the wooden chair. There was a sharp, ripping sound. The bag tore open at the seam, spilling its contents onto the rug with a clatter and a thump.
A notebook. A charger. A makeup bag.
Then something heavier hit the floor.
Elena’s eyes tracked it—a slim piece, jointed, unfolding slightly where it had landed. Another followed, fanning open. Something small and black had rolled under the bed. What were these? These looked like some unusual tools, not the kind you normally would keep in a backpack.
“Shit,” Lisa hissed, dropping quickly to her knees. One hand sweeping the drives together, the other snapping the metallic tools closed with practiced precision. She didn’t look at them as she shoved them away. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Elena watched as the unusual tools were now half-hidden under a sweater. These seemed like a bit much even for Lisa’s tech-loving interests. “Lisa, what is all… ?”
“I need a new bag,” Lisa cut in, her voice too bright and quick for her normal tone. She stood, holding the ruined backpack by its torn bottom. The color was high on her cheeks. “This one’s toast. Can we go into town? Please? I saw some cute boutiques on the drive in.”
“Yeah,” Elena said, thinking of the warning by the pool—you’d better keep her safe. “I’ll go tell Liam we want to go into town.” She turned to leave while Lisa stayed behind to clean up.
Elena worked her way from the back patio to the east side pool.
As the pool came into view, she could see the steam curling low over the surface as it rippled.
Liam was already moving—pulling himself from the water in one smooth motion. Elena slowed without meaning to once she saw him. The air shifted as he moved towards the water’s edge.
Elena watched as the water sluiced off the hard planes of his chest and back in sheets. He moved with a slow, predatory grace, muscles coiling and releasing as he hauled himself onto the tile. He didn't notice her as he reached for a towel.
He dragged the white cotton over his face first, then his hair, the short black spikes flattening into dark, wet points. The towel moved down his neck, over his shoulders, soaking up the water that traced the lines of his spine. Every movement was economical, devoid of performance. This was just a body, cooling down. The blue of his eyes was startling when he finally lowered the towel and saw her standing there.
Elena’s gaze was locked on the water beading in the hollow of his throat, on the slow rise and fall of his ribs. His swim trunks clung low on his hips, the fabric dark and heavy and pressing against his member. He was still breathing a little hard, like he was swimming laps. The silence stretched, filled only by the drip of water from his body onto the tile.
“Hello Elena.” He says with a smooth voice. “What brings you back, alone?” Something about his saying alone brought a little heat inside her core.
“Lisa needs a new backpack,” Elena said. “We’d like to go into town to get a new one for her, please.”
Liam looked to her, then looked up toward the upper level of the manor, as if he was thinking. Then he gave a nod. “I’ll have Victor take you. I’ll tell him to meet you in the garage.”
She knew it wasn’t an offer. It was simply security. Elena nodded, a tightness in her chest. “Thank you.”
“Elena, please wait.” Liam reaches out for her gently. “Please stay with Victor. I mean it.”
“You’re acting like I’m going somewhere dangerous.” The words felt thin in the quiet room.
“You are.”
“It’s just going into town, Liam.” She heard the scrape of her own shoe on the stone floor, a small, sharp sound.
His gaze didn’t shift from her face, steady and unblinking. “Elena, you don’t see what I see. Stay with Victor. It’s an order.”
That cooled her response, the truth of it settling in her stomach. She felt the weight of his worry in the silence, in the tight line of his jaw.
She looked down at her own hands, thinking of all the pieces, then back up to him. Her voice was quieter. “Yes, Sir.”
Elena returned and met with Lisa, then worked their way into the garage.
Victor was waiting beside a sleek, black SUV, his massive arms crossed. He said nothing, just opened the rear passenger door for them. Lisa tried to talk with Victor, getting barely more than a quick reply out of him, leaving most of the drive quiet, the coastal road winding down from the manor’s cliffs into the quaint, sun-drenched streets of the town. Victor parked on a cobblestone street lined with different shops.
“One hour. I’ll be nearby if you need me,” he said, his voice a low rumble. He didn’t look at them.
Lisa nodded a quick confirmation, already halfway out of the car.
Elena lingered a second longer. “You’ll… be close?”
His gaze flicked to her then, sharp and unreadable.
“Close enough.”
Elena glanced back through the glass as the door shut behind them. Victor hadn’t moved from the vehicle, his eyes still watching them.
Stay with him. I mean it. The words pressed at the back of her thoughts, heavier now that she was out from under the manor’s shadow.
Elena’s gaze swept the street, looking at the options. Her eyes skipped over sun-bleached signs and dark doorways, measuring the distance from the SUV’s idling rumble to any solid wall they could put at their backs.
A shopfront with a dusty window caught her eye. A bookstore! She hadn’t been inside a bookstore in a while, and as much as she loved the variety of the manor’s library, it couldn’t compare to the options they would have here.
Elena quickly grabbed onto Lisa’s wrist, hauling her across the dusty street toward the bookstore. The little shop with its peeling paint and dark window seemed a cave, a hiding place. She didn’t look back at the SUV.
“I don’t think this is a bookstore,” Lisa hissed, stumbling a step, her eyes still wide with shock. The bell above the door jangled, a shrill, normal sound that felt obscene.
“I don’t care.” Elena’s voice was flat, a thin sheet of ice over a scream. She released Lisa’s wrist and walked straight past the racks of sunglasses and keychains, her gaze scanning the dim shelves along the back wall. The air was thick, clogged with dust and the ghost of old paper. It coated her tongue. She needed the weight of a book in her hands. Something solid. Something with an ending to a traumatic story.
Her fingertips brushed cracked spines. She pulled a heavy, cloth-bound volume free, sending a plume of dust motes dancing in a slat of window light. The cover was faded blue, the title embossed and almost unreadable. The Anatomy of Coastal Flora. She opened it. Pressed flowers, brown and fragile as insect wings, were carefully mounted beside precise ink drawings. A methodical, forgotten beauty. She grabbed a second book, this one on local artisan pottery, its pages thick and glossy.
“Here.” Elena turned, shoving both books against Lisa’s chest. Lisa fumbled them in her hands as she caught them. “Buy these. I’ll pay you back.”
Lisa looked from the books to Elena’s face, the question dying in her eyes. She just nodded, tight-lipped, and turned toward the counter where the shopkeeper watched, silent. Elena cradled another large folio to her chest, the corners digging into her ribs through her shirt. The solid pressure felt good. Necessary. She could carry this. She followed Lisa to the shopkeeper, and they purchased the books. Then they pushed out through the door, the bell chiming again behind them.
“Alright, but you're carrying these, I’m already managing this crumblin’ backpack… Now, can we please find me a replacement!?” Lisa said. Elena was grateful for her patience as she explored her favorite type of store.
Walking down a few shop doors, Lisa guided Elena through the door into a small store that gave off its own little chime at their entrance. The place smelled of warm leather and dyed cloth, and the air was close, thick with the scent. Aside from the lady behind the register, there was no one else inside.
Random items hung along the shelves, from posters to faded postcards, hand-painted magnets, and small framed prints of the coastline. There were racks of cheap sunglasses, woven bracelets, and strings of beaded necklaces that clicked softly when brushed. Keychains dangled in clusters—metal tags, carved wood shapes, bits of colored glass catching the light.
Shelves held rolled maps tied with twine, travel journals with cracked leather spines, and stacks of guidebooks no one had updated in years. There were enamel mugs, mismatched and chipped, thermoses in dull colors, and compact lanterns still in dusty boxes.
Near the counter sat bins of pocketknives, lighters, and multi-tools, alongside rows of sunscreen, lip balm, and travel-sized toiletries. A rotating stand displayed postcards that squeaked faintly when turned, each image sun-bleached at the edges.
Hooks along one wall carried canvas totes, drawstring bags, and smaller daypacks in bright, patterned fabrics. Beneath them were folded blankets—some thick wool, others thin and striped, stacked unevenly like they’d been picked through a hundred times.
There were jars of local honey, small packets of dried herbs, and novelty snacks in crinkled packaging. A basket held rolled bandanas, while another overflowed with knit caps despite the warmth outside.
In one corner, a rack of cheap souvenirs—snow globes, miniature landmarks, and plastic trinkets—leaned slightly, as if one more touch might send it tipping.
Her eyes scanned, dismissing the bright tourist trinkets, and landed on a rack at the back. The backpacks were made of thick, olive-green canvas, the straps and trim of dark, oiled leather. Lisa walked straight to them, her fingers brushing over the coarse fabric. She pushed a few aside, the metal grommets clinking softly, until she found one whose seams lay flat and even.
She pulled it out, hefting its satisfying, empty weight in her hand. Then starts to shift things from her torn backpack, which she still carried in her arm.
Then she pushed deeper into the rack, searching, until she found its twin. She grabbed it, holding one in each hand by its rough canvas shoulders.
“We’re getting two,” she announced, holding them up with a bright smile. “We’ll match! No arguments.”
Elena took the offered backpack. The canvas was rough under her fingers. It was nothing like the expensive, delicate things in Liam’s house. It felt real. Not some decoration that she would wear. She caught the determined set of her jaw.
“We match,” Elena agreed, returning a smile.
The chime from the front door sounded again, a brittle, off-key ping. Elena’s head came up in curiosity. Lisa was rummaging in a bin of bandanas, humming.
Elena’s eyes cut toward the sound. A man stood just inside the doorway, backlit by the street. He didn’t look like someone browsing. His head turned, slow and methodical, scanning the cluttered aisles as if looking for something, or someone. He didn’t see her through the rack of backpacks, but she saw him. Late thirties. Lean. A tightness around his mouth that had nothing to do with the sun.
“Lisa.” Her voice was a breath.
“Hmm?”
“Be quiet.”
Lisa glanced over, a joke half-forming on her lips. It died when she saw Elena’s face. The color had drained, leaving her skin pale, her green eyes wide and fixed. Lisa’s own expression went flat, alert. She didn’t speak, starting to look around.
Elena pointed out the guy staying low, and through the racks, and after a glance, Lisa understood. She got the same impression, and her face turned serious.
Elena moved first, easing the new backpack onto her shoulder, the canvas rough against her shirt. She gestured toward the front, away from the man who was now moving deeper into the store, his hands empty at his sides. They moved between shelves of postcards and snowglobes, their footsteps working to stay silent on the worn floorboards.
The woman at the register looked up, bored.
“These please.” Lisa was already pulling a crumpled wad of cash from her pocket, placing it quickly on the counter. She pointed at the two backpacks, her other hand gripping Elena’s wrist. The woman started to count, seeming oblivious to the two’s urgency.
A shadow fell across the end of the aisle. The man turned there, only twenty-five feet away. His eyes locked on Elena’s and something in his face showed recognition. “Hey!” He yelled out aggressively.
Elena felt the danger, and her body moved before she could think. She yanked Lisa hard, sending her friend stumbling toward the door. She pushed through the door, the brass bar hot from the sun, and then they were bursting onto the cobblestone path, quickly blinded by bright light from the evening sun.
The black SUV was ten paces away. Victor was leaning against the driver’s seat door, arms still crossed. His head turned at the noise. Elena hauled towards the passenger door. “Victor—go!”
He didn’t ask. He moved, a fluid uncoiling of muscle, grabbing the back driver's side door and opening it for them. Elena shoved Lisa inside, and Victor slid into the driver’s seat as Elena tumbled in after Lisa. The doors slammed. The engine snarled to life.
Elena twisted, looking back through the tinted rear window. The man exploded out of the shop. She watched him as his arm came up, straight and purposeful. In his hand was a black object. A gun. *CRACK*. Elena caught her breath as she watched in horror as the glass between her and the man cracked and shaped into a glass web circle around a solid single point.
The man was shooting at them! The bullet could be seen, lodged in the glass. Barley held.
“Get down!” Victor’s voice roared through the cabin. Elena didn’t think. She lunged over Lisa, pressing her friend into the leather seat, her own body a shield. Another shot hit the glass, and she heard it shatter and rain inside the back. Then the side mirror shattered. Victor wrenched the wheel, tires screaming against stone as the SUV surged around a corner, throwing Elena hard against the door, knocking the breath from her lungs.
The SUV careens around another corner, throwing Elena hard against the door again. Her shoulder screams. The world outside the shattered window is a blur of stucco and sea light.
“Clear.” Victor’s voice is a ragged scrape. “For now.”
Lisa shoved Elena off and sat up. “What the hell was that? Who the fuck was that?” Her voice climbed, cracking with adrenaline. “He shot at us! He fucking shot at us!”
Elena pushed herself upright, her own breath coming in sharp gasps. It’s Stern. It has to be.
“I’m pulling over,” Victor grunted. His left hand let go of the wheel, clamping over his right chest. When he pulled it back, his palm was slick and black with blood in the dim cabin light.
“Victor!” Elena’s voice was flat. She could see the entry point in the back of his shoulder.
“I’m fine.” He began to guide the vehicle toward the curb. His movements were slow, too careful.
“You’re hit.”
“Scratched.” His head listed forward for a second. The SUV veered, tires brushing the curb with a screech of rubber.
Elena reacted quickly, throwing herself between the seats into the front, the leather digging into her ribs. She grabbed Victor’s wrist, yanking his bloody hand from the gearshift, and shoved the lever into neutral. The engine screamed as it revved up. She fumbled for the emergency brake, found the lever, and pulled. The vehicle jerked violently, throwing them all forward, then shuddered to a halt halfway onto the sidewalk.
Victor was slumped against the driver’s window, his breathing a wet, shallow rasp.
“Lisa! Your shirt, now!” Elena barked.
Lisa was already moving, her fingers tearing at the hem of her tank top. She ripped it, a sharp sound of tearing cotton, and wadded the fabric into a thick pad. She leaned over the seat, her small hands pushing Victor’s own aside. The wound was a dark, puckered hole high on his shoulder, welling blood that flowed down his arm and back, soaking into his shirt. Lisa pressed the pad down hard.
Victor groaned, a deep animal sound. His eyes fluttered open. “Pressure,” he gritted out.
“I know, you giant asshole, I’m doing it,” Lisa snapped, but her hands were steady, her weight leaning into the compress.
Elena crouched in the footwell of the front passenger seat, her body twisted. She could smell it now—cordite, blood, sweat. The heat of the engine. Victor’s face was pale, his lips tinged gray. She put a hand on his neck. His pulse thumped, too fast and too light, against her fingers.
“We need a hospital,” Elena said.
“No.” Victor’s voice was faint but absolute. “Not a safe drive to the manor. We’re not far out.”
“You’re bleeding out.”
“Then drive.” His blue eyes found hers, glassy but sharp. “You drive.”
Elena looked at the steering wheel. The dash. The gearshift was smeared with his blood. She had never driven a vehicle like this. “I can’t, I haven’t driven since driver’s ed years ago…”
“You graduated from college. You built a business. You can drive a fucking car.” He coughed, and a fine spray of blood dotted his chin. “Left pedal brake. Right pedal go. Do it.”
Lisa looked at Elena, her face stark with fear. “El.”
Elena swallowed. The taste of copper filled her mouth. She nodded. Elena quickly got out of the car and opened the door.
She shoved Victor toward the passenger seat, her hands hooking under his good arm. He was massive, dead weight, but he managed to push with his legs, a clumsy half-slide across the center console. He collapsed into the passenger seat, his head lolling. Lisa scrambled into the back, keeping pressure on his shoulder through the seats.
Elena slid behind the wheel. The leather was warm from Victor’s body. She adjusted the seat, her hands trembling. She released the emergency brake. Put her foot on the brake. Shifted into drive.
“Go,” Victor whispered, punching in a code into his phone.
She eased her foot onto the accelerator. The SUV lurched forward, then smoothed out. Her vision tunneled to the road. The sun was a bloody thumbprint on the horizon. She saw the GPS showing ‘7 minutes’ on the navigation.
“Talk to me, Victor,” Lisa said, her voice too calm.
“Keep… pressure.” His words slurred. “Don’t stop. For anything.”
Lisa’s hands were already stained dark red. “He’s soaked through the shirt.”
“Just keep pressure on it.” Elena took a corner too fast. The tires protested. She corrected, her jaw clenched. “Tell me where to go.”
Victor’s directions were fragmented. A left. A long straight. A right onto a private road lined with cypress trees. The gate was ahead, wrought iron and imposing. Elena slowed, unsure.
“Don’t stop,” Victor breathed, his eyes closed. “Plates… recognized.”
The gate began to swing open automatically as they approached. Elena drove through, the massive house rising before them like a cliff. She stomped on the brake at the front of the fountain, throwing them all forward again.
Before the vehicle fully settled, the front doors burst open. Liam stood there, Presley a half-step behind him. Liam’s face was carved from stone. He took in the shattered windows, the blood-smeared interior, Elena behind the wheel.
He moved. He yanked the passenger door open. He saw Victor, the blood, and Lisa’s desperate hands. Something in his face shattered.
“Call a Medic!” Liam’s roar echoed off the stone facade. “Now!”
He didn’t look at Elena. He reached in, gathering Victor into his arms with a grunt of effort, and pulled him from the seat. Victor’s head fell against Liam’s chest, leaving a scarlet bloom on his white shirt. Liam carried him toward the house, shouting orders Elena couldn’t decipher.
Elena sat, her hands glued to the steering wheel, the engine still running. The warmth of Victor’s blood was on her skin. She could feel its tacky pull between her fingers.
Lisa slumped back in the seat, staring at her red hands. She began to shake.
Elena turned the engine off. The silence was heavy and sharp with the smell of blood soaking through. She did it… She drove again and got them home.