Page 37 of Liam

For a moment, I’m transported back to those late nights in the math lab, the air charged with more than just equations. I remember the warmth of Liam’s hand on my shoulder and the way my heart raced when he leaned close to check my work.

But then, I remember how it all ended, how he disappeared just when I was ready to believe we could have something more.

Clearing my throat, I reach for my clipboard, breaking the spell. “Yes, well, those days are long gone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have real science to do.”

“Of course, Dr. James.”

Numbers blur before my eyes as I crunch data for hours. It’s only when I glance at the clock that I realize how late it’s gotten, and I’m going to have to stay even later to finish everything.

As the rest of the staff filters out, Liam pauses by my desk. A smirk plays at the corners of his mouth. “Still here, Dr. James?” he asks, leaning against my desk. “I hope this won’t interfere with your social calendar.”

My fingers freeze over the keys. Heat rises in my cheeks as I meet his gaze. “You planned this.”

Liam’s eyebrow arches, his blue eyes sparkling with something that looks like triumph. “Planned what? I just assigned the work that needed to be done.” He straightens, adjusting his tailored jacket. “Goodnight, Dr. James.”

As soon as he’s gone, I slump in my chair, letting out a long breath. What is his problem? It’s like he’s punishing me for something, but what?

I pull out my phone to call Jake. He’s disappointed but understanding when I explain I have to cancel our date.

The lab hums with the low drone of equipment, a mechanical lullaby punctuated by the staccato of my typing. My eyes burn from staring at the screen, numbers and formulas dancing in my vision.

I arch my back, joints popping.

I freeze. A faint sound breaks the silence, a whisper of friction as if someone’s dragging their shoe across the polished floor. It’s coming from the darkened hallway beyond my lab’s open door.

My fingers hover over the keys. The hair on the back of my neck stands up.

“Hello?” My voice echoes in the empty lab, swallowed by the silence that follows.

There it is again. Closer. The sound of something, or someone, trying to move quietly and failing.

I push back from my desk, the chair wheels squeaking in protest. My eyes dart around the dim lab, shadows lurking in every corner. My hand finds the base of a heavy microscope, cool metal warming under my grip as I lift it.

Breath shallow, I edge toward my office door. The scraping grows louder with each step. Sweat beads on my palms, threatening my grip on the microscope.

I reach for the handle, pulse pounding in my ears. One, two, three?—

I wrench the door open, microscope raised high above my head. My muscles tense, ready to swing at whatever waits on the other side.

Chapter Eleven

LIAM

The elevator doors part with a cheerful ding that mocks my exhaustion. I stumble out, my shoes squeaking on the polished floor—because nothing says powerful CEO like sounding like a rubber duck with every step.

“Home, sir?” Marcus asks, his voice carrying the slightest hint of amusement. I swear he enjoys watching me unravel at the end of each day.

I nod, collapsing into the backseat of the car like a marionette with cut strings. As we pull away, I glance at the building, and a flash of light catches my eye. I turn, spotting a lone illuminated window on the third floor. Aleria’s lab.

My heart does a little tap dance against my ribs. I’d dumped a mountain of work on her today, all because I couldn’t handle the thought of her winning this bet.

Realmature, Valeur.

“Marcus,” I croak, my voice sounding like I’ve gargled gravel. “Pull over.”

He raises an eyebrow in the rearview mirror but complies without comment. Silent judgment is his specialty.

I stare at the building. This is ridiculous. She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need me to... What? Rescue her from the big bad spreadsheets?