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… out of line.”
The apology landed like a stone in the water. Simple. Direct. No excuses.
“Out of line?” Lisa echoed from a few feet away, her laugh short. “You mean when you turned into a human volcano and scared the shit out of her?”
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.
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.
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 better keep her safe. Or you’ll have me to deal with. And I’m a lot more annoying than I look.”
Heat flooded Elena’s face. “Lisa, stop—”
“We’re leaving,” Elena said, the embarrassment a hot crawl up her neck. She couldn’t look at Liam. 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 like a shield.
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 damp clothes back on. “The apology was… okay, fine. But the post-apology stare-down? He’s a glacier.”
Elena didn’t answer. She was thinking about the feel of his hand on her back, the way he’d held on.
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. And other things. A small, black cylindrical object that rolled under the bed. A set of slim, metallic tools that fanned out like strange, surgical petals.
“Shit,” Lisa hissed, dropping to her knees. She scrambled, shoving everything back into the torn main compartment, her movements frantic. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Elena stared at the metallic tools now half-hidden under a sweater. They didn’t look like anything for a graphic designer. “Lisa…”
“I need a new bag,” Lisa said, her voice too bright. She stood, holding the ruined backpack by its torn strap. 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.”
Elena looked from her friend’s forced smile to the hidden tools. The lockpicks. The stun gun was probably under the bed. The warning by the pool echoed. *You better keep her safe.*
“Yeah,” Elena said slowly. “Let’s go into town.”
They found Liam in his study. He was at his desk, dressed now in dark trousers and a grey shirt, sleeves rolled up. He looked up as they entered, his gaze flicking from Elena’s fresh clothes to Lisa’s held-together bag.
“Lisa needs a new backpack,” Elena said. “We’d like to go into town.”
Liam leaned back in his chair. He studied Lisa for a moment, then gave a single nod. “Victor can take you. He’s in the garage.”
It wasn’t an offer. It was logistics. Security. Elena nodded, a tightness in her chest. “Okay.”
Victor was waiting beside a sleek, black SUV, his massive arms crossed. He said nothing, just opened the rear passenger door for them. The drive was 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 shops.
“One hour,” he said, his voice a low rumble. He didn’t look at them.
Lisa practically dragged Elena into a cheerful store filled with leather goods and colorful textiles. She zeroed in on a display of backpacks made of sturdy, olive-green canvas with leather accents. She grabbed one, then another identical one.
“We’re getting two,” she announced, holding them up. “We 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. Practical. A tool, not a decoration. She looked at her friend, at the determined set of her jaw, and thought of the tools spilled on the rug. The promise made in the steam.
“We match,” Elena agreed, her voice quiet.