Page 14 of Liam (The Valeur Billionaires #4)

Chapter Eight

LIAM

“ W e’re winning this thing,” I declare, my competitive spirit ignited. “Ready to get uncomfortably close, Dr. James?”

Aleria’s eyes widen, a blush creeping up her neck. “I...um... That is...scientifically speaking, proximity doesn’t correlate with success rates in team-building exercises,” she stammers, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

“The next activity is the Three-Legged Race. We need to get close.” I tilt my head toward the course.

“Oh. The course. Of course.” She bites her lower lip.

“What did you think I meant?”

But before either of us can speak, Stephanie’s voice cuts through the tension, calling us to the next challenge.

“Remember, communication is key,” Stephanie chirps, her enthusiasm grating against my frayed nerves.

Aleria snorts, the sound sharp with disdain. “Great. Because we’re so good at that. Maybe we should communicate in equations, Valeur. It’s the only language you might understand.”

Back to safer ground.

“At least equations have logic,” I retort, jaw clenching. “Unlike certain scientists who can’t seem to grasp basic coordination.”

My left foot lurches forward just as Aleria’s right heel digs into the ground.

We collide, shoulders bumping, arms flailing for balance.

I stumble backward; she totters to the side.

Our joined hands strain as we pull against each other, like two processes competing for the same resource.

The crowd’s cheers fade to confused murmurs.

Aleria’s face flushes red. We lock eyes, a silent battle of wills, before attempting to realign our movements.

This is a disaster.

“Left, right, left—no, my left!” I growl.

“You know your left from your right, don’t you, Mr. CEO?” Aleria retorts, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Or do you have people to do your directional thinking for you, too? Perhaps we should call your assistant to guide us through this complex task of walking.”

“At least I’m not the one with two left feet,” I snap back, my patience wearing thin. “Scientists are supposed to be precise. Or does your scientific method not apply to anything outside the lab?”

“Oh, I excel at precision,” she shoots back, her eyes narrowing with a daring glint. “I could precisely calculate the force needed to knock that smug grin right off your face. Want me to show you?”

Our bickering reaches a crescendo as we round a corner, our voices rising above the encouraging cheers of our colleagues.

“Yeah? Well, you seem to excel at making things difficult,” I snap.

Aleria’s face contorts with anger, her retort dying on her lips as her foot catches on a root. Time seems to slow as we fall, our tied legs ensuring we go down together. I wrap my arms around her, twisting my body to take the brunt of the impact.

We hit the ground hard, the air rushing out of my lungs in a painful whoosh. For a moment, we lie there, a tangle of limbs and wounded pride. Aleria’s face is inches from mine, her eyes wide with surprise and something else I can’t quite name.

“You alright?” I manage, acutely aware of every single inch where our bodies are pressed together.

Aleria blinks as if coming out of a daze. “I...yes. Why did you do that?”

“Do what? Break your fall or make an ass of myself? Because I seem to excel at both today.”

A smile tugs at her lips before she catches herself, her expression hardening back into a scowl. “Both, probably. Though making a fool of yourself is clearly your default state.”

We scramble to our feet, both avoiding eye contact. The moment has passed, but something has shifted, an undercurrent of tension that has nothing to do with our earlier argument.

We finish the race in last place, our egos as bruised as our bodies. As Stephanie unties us, I catch Aleria massaging her ankle .

“You sure you’re okay?” I ask, torn between concern and my desire not to look like I care too much.

She waves me off. “I’m fine. It’s just a minor soft tissue contusion. Nothing a little RICE won’t fix.”

I blink. “Rice?”

Aleria rolls her eyes. “Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation. Honestly, Valeur, don’t you know anything?”

“I know we need to step up our game if we want to win this thing,” I reply, choosing to ignore her jab.

She nods, her competitive nature overriding her annoyance with me. “Agreed. We can’t keep... What’s the corporate jargon you’d use? Underperforming?”

I chuckle. “I was thinking more like ‘royally screwing up,’ but sure, let’s go with underperforming.”

A ghost of a smile tugs at Aleria’s lips. “Well, Mr. CEO, got any brilliant strategies to turn this around?”

“As a matter of fact, Dr. James, I do.” I clear my throat, adopting a mock-serious tone. “We’ll leverage our unique skill sets, synergize our efforts, and optimize for maximum efficiency.”

She groans, rolling her eyes. “God help us. You really talk like that?”

I shrug. “It works in the boardroom.”

“Well, this isn’t a boardroom,” she retorts. “And we need a real strategy, not corporate buzzwords.”

I nod, sobering. “You’re right. Look, I know we don’t always see eye to eye?—”

“Or eye to shoulder, given our height difference.”

I shoot her a look, then continue. “But we’re both intelligent, capable people. If we put our minds to it and work together, there’s no reason we can’t win this thing. ”

Aleria studies me for a moment, then nods. “Alright, Valeur. You’ve got yourself a deal. Temporary truce?”

She extends her hand, and I take it, ignoring the spark that jumps between our palms. “Truce.”

As we approach the final puzzle, a cryptic set of equations paired with some obscure geometric symbols, our shaky cooperation is about to get the ultimate test. The setup looks like a cross between a math problem and a jigsaw puzzle, and it’s clear we’ll need both Aleria’s scientific brainpower and my business sense to crack it.

“Okay,” Aleria mutters, her eyes scanning the clues. “If we approach this like a multi-variable equation...”

“And factor in the shape and sizes,” I continue, catching on to her train of thought.

The words flow, bridging the gap between our disciplines. For a moment, the barriers between us blur, leaving just two minds working in tandem.

“Exactly,” Aleria says, her eyes lighting up. “If we can break it down into smaller sub-problems, like a reverse algorithm?—”

“Then we can optimize from the bottom up,” I finish, thrilled at the rush of being perfectly in sync.

Our ideas flow into each other, words overlapping as we build toward a solution. The puzzle’s mess of symbols and variables slowly starts to make sense, our combined efforts turning it from a mess into a strategy.

“It’s like quantum entanglement,” Aleria says. “Our thought processes are?—”

“Tangled up and causing all kinds of trouble?” I cut in with a smirk .

She blinks, then laughs—a deep, warm laugh that catches me off guard, making my chest do something strange.

“Will wonders never cease? The great Liam Valeur, secret science nerd.”

“Keep it quiet,” I whisper back. “We wouldn’t want to ruin my hard-earned reputation as a soulless corporate automaton.”

We solve the puzzle in record time, our earlier tension forgotten in the thrill of intellectual cooperation. Without thinking, I grab her hand, pulling her with me toward the judge’s table as we sprint to submit our answer.

We slam our solution down on the judge’s table, both breathing hard from the sprint. The judge looks it over, his expression inscrutable. The seconds stretch into an eternity as we wait, my hand still clasped around Aleria’s.

“Not bad, right?” I say, trying for casual.

“Not bad at all,” the judge finally says, giving us a slow nod.

“We have our winners!” the announcer shouts.

I pull Aleria into a tight hug, feeling her body stiffen against mine. But then, bit by bit, she eases into my hold, and the years between us fall away. Her face is tucked close to mine, and for a moment, it feels like we’re back to where we were before.

When she pulls back, our eyes lock. There’s a spark there, something fierce and unspoken simmering between us. Her gaze clings to mine, her breath coming just a little quicker.

She’s close enough that I can see the faint flush on her cheeks, the stray curl that’s fallen across her temple. I lift a hand without thinking, pushing the curl back. My thumb brushes her cheek, light as a whisper, then drifts down, barely grazing her lower lip.

Her breath catches. For a second, she just stares wide-eyed, and I can feel the thud of her pulse racing beneath my fingertips. My own pulse hammers in response, each beat pulling me closer to her, erasing whatever thin line we’d drawn between us.

Her phone buzzes.

Aleria’s face drains of color as she checks the caller ID. She steps away, but not far enough to escape my hearing.

“Yes, Mr. Johnson, I understand.” Her voice is low, a tremor betraying her tension. “No, I haven’t forgotten about the rent... I promise I’ll have it in a couple of days. Please, just a little more time.”

The desperation in her voice twists something in my chest. As she ends the call, her shoulders slump, as if the weight of her financial burden has become physical.

I feign interest in a nearby tree, but curiosity and an unexpected surge of concern gnaw at me. The urge to help, to fix this problem as I would any business issue, is almost overwhelming.

“Everything okay?” I ask, my attempt at casual falling flat.

Aleria’s head snaps up, her eyes narrowing as they scan me from head to toe. Her gaze lingers on my clothes and the designer watch on my wrist before flicking to my bodyguard, Marcus, hovering nearby.

“It’s fine,” she snaps, her voice sharp. “Not that it’s any of your business, Valeur.”

The use of my last name stings more than it should. We’d been making progress, hadn’t we ?

“Maybe I can help,” I offer before I can stop myself, immediately regretting the words as her expression hardens into something fierce and proud.

“No, you can’t, and I said it’s none of your business,” she repeats, her words dripping with venom. “You wouldn’t understand. You haven’t struggled to pay rent a day in your life.”

“Your salary should be more than enough to cover your expenses.”

She hesitates, conflict warring in her eyes before she finally relents. “My parents' business is struggling. I've been sending them money to help, if you must know. Some of us don't have trust funds to fall back on.” Her chin lifts defiantly.

Her eyes, still filled with contempt, challenge me to prove her wrong. For a moment, I consider letting her assumption stand. It would be easier, safer. But something in me rebels against the injustice of her judgment.

“You assume you know me?” My voice comes out low, raw with emotion I rarely allow myself to show. “Let me tell you about struggle, Dr. James. Try losing your mother at the age of eleven. Try watching your father retreat into his work, leaving you to pick up the pieces.”

Aleria’s expression shifts, surprise replacing the contempt, but I can’t stop now.

“Try being a teenager suddenly responsible for your little sister’s wellbeing. Try growing up overnight.”

I run a hand through my hair, memories I’ve long suppressed flooding back.

“Money doesn’t shield you from loss, from responsibility, from the crushing weight of expectations.

It doesn’t fill the void of a parent’s absence or ease the fear of failing the people who depend on you.

Just because I seem happy doesn’t mean I always am. ”

I meet her gaze, letting her see the pain I keep hidden. “So no, Dr. James, I haven’t struggled to pay rent. But don’t presume to know my struggles.”

The silence that follows feels heavy. Something shifts in Aleria’s expression—the sharp edges of her skepticism softening into understanding. For a moment, she looks at me like she’s seeing me for the first time.

“I didn’t know,” she says. “About your mom, about having to take care of your sister...”

“Yeah, well,” I shrug, uncomfortable with the sympathy in her eyes. “At least I learned responsibility early. I bet Jake never had to worry about thousands of employees depending on him.”

Her entire demeanor changes in an instant. The warmth in her eyes freezes over, her posture stiffening.

“Wow,” she says, letting out a short, humorless laugh. “For a second there, I actually believed you.”

“What? Aleria, I?—”

“No, really, I’m impressed.” She takes a step back, wrapping her arms around herself. “Using your dead mother to win our bet? That’s something else, Valeur. Even for you.”

“That’s not what I?—”

“Save it.” She holds up a hand, her voice steady but her eyes blazing. “Message received. You’ll do anything to win our bet. But don’t worry—you’ll see plenty of Jake’s good qualities at the Halloween party.”

Jake. The name punches me in the gut. That tight feeling in my chest flares up again, this strange burn at the idea of her with him. But I can’t think straight with her staring daggers at me, convinced this was just another mind game.

She turns to leave, then pauses, glancing back. “You know what the sad part is? I think some of what you said was actually true. Too bad you had to use it to score points.”

As she walks away, the victory we shared earlier feels hollow. In trying to win her over, I’ve only pushed her further away.

Around me, people are still cheering, their voices mingling with the pounding beat of the music, but I’m numb. The look she gave me before she turned away—that accusation that I was just playing her—lingers, sharper than I want to admit.

And I can’t even blame her. Not really. She’s used to me being the guy who will do anything to win.

But I wasn’t even thinking about the bet. For that split second, all I wanted was her.