Page 28 of Liam (The Valeur Billionaires #4)

Chapter Sixteen

LIAM

I ’m deep in a legal document when the first alarm blares, its shrill cry shattering the quiet of my office at LumiVera.

The sudden noise makes me jolt, my pen skidding across the page, leaving an ugly black line like a scar on the pristine paper.

Before I can process what’s happening, Marcus bursts through the door, the heavy oak slamming against the wall with a bang that makes my teeth rattle.

“Mr. Valeur, we need to evacuate. Now.”

I’m on my feet in an instant, adrenaline surging through my veins. As we step into the hallway, the acrid smell of smoke hits me, burning the back of my throat.

“What happened?” I demand, my eyes scanning the corridor. Employees stream past us, a tide of panic and confusion. But there’s one face I don’t find, one that matters more than any other right now.

“Chemical accident in the research wing,” Marcus says, his hand on my elbow, trying to guide me toward the exit. “We need to get you out, sir.”

But I can’t move. Can’t breathe. Because Aleria isn’t here.

“Where’s Dr. James?” I ask, my voice tight with fear I can’t quite hide. “Did you see her leave?”

“No.” Marcus’s expression darkens. “Sir, we don’t have time?—”

I don’t wait for him to finish. Instead of turning right toward safety, I pivot left toward the labs. Toward Aleria.

The acrid smell grows stronger as we approach her lab, making my eyes water and sting.

Through the glass door, I see her pounding on the door, panic clear on her face.

The smoke curls near the ceiling like ghostly fingers, growing thicker by the moment, turning the sterile white lab into a hazy gray tomb.

“Aleria!” I pull my shirt up over my nose and mouth and press against the glass. She looks up, relief flooding her features before fear takes over again. She gestures frantically at the door, and I realize the safety protocols have engaged, sealing her in with the toxic fumes.

“The override code,” I call through the glass. “Do you know it?”

She shakes her head, pulling her sweater over her mouth. Even through the glass, I can see her hands trembling.

Marcus appears behind me with breathing equipment. “Sir, let me handle the door. You’ll need this if we’re going in.”

I snatch the mask, already calculating how long it will take to get to her. The smoke is getting thicker, and Aleria’s movements are becoming sluggish. She slumps against the door, coughing .

We manage to override the lock. I rush in, securing the breathing mask over her face first. Her eyes are unfocused, but she grips my arm tightly.

“I’ve got you,” I tell her, lifting her into my arms and turning toward safety. She feels so light, so fragile. “Let’s get you out of here.”

We burst out of the building into the cool night air. The sudden temperature change is disorienting. I sink to my knees, still holding Aleria, unwilling to let her go.

Paramedics swarm around us, but all I can focus on is her breathing—each inhale and exhale a precious sign that she’s alive.

One tries to pry Aleria from my arms, but I tighten my grip.

“Sir, we need to treat you both,” a paramedic insists, her tone brooking no argument.

I shake my head, coughing. “I’m fine. Take care of her.”

The paramedic’s eyes narrow. “You’ve inhaled a significant amount of smoke. We need to get you both on oxygen. Now.”

Before I can protest further, they’re guiding us both onto stretchers. The world tilts as they lift me, and I realize how light-headed I’ve become.

“I’m coming with her,” I rasp out as they load us into the ambulance.

The ride is a blur of flashing lights and wailing sirens. An oxygen mask covers my face, the cool air a stark contrast to the burning in my lungs. But my focus is on Aleria. She lies motionless on the stretcher beside me, so still, it terrifies me. I reach out, my fingers finding hers .

“Stay with me,” I whisper, the words muffled by the mask. “Please, Aleria.”

At the hospital, they whisk Aleria away for treatment. I try to follow, but firm hands hold me back.

“Sir, we need to examine you,” a doctor says.

I shake my head, trying to push past. “I need to be with her.”

“You need to let us do our job,” the doctor counters. “The sooner you cooperate, the sooner you can see her.”

I allow them to lead me to an examination room. They check my vitals, listen to my lungs, and clean and bandage a cut on my arm I hadn’t even realized was there. I answer their questions, my mind elsewhere.

As soon as they clear me, I’m back in the waiting room, pacing. Each minute seems like an hour, each hour an eternity. My imagination runs wild, conjuring worst-case scenarios. What if there were complications? What if the smoke did more damage than they first thought?

The weight of unspoken words presses down on me. All the things I should have said, all the chances I let slip by. What if I never get the opportunity to tell her how I feel?

A nurse approaches, trying to get me to sit down, to rest. But I can’t. Not until I know Aleria is okay. Not until I can see her with my own eyes, hold her hand, tell her everything I’ve been too afraid to say.

Because one thing has become crystal clear. Life is too short, too precious, to waste another moment pretending I’m not head over heels in love with Aleria James.

When the doctor approaches with news, I hold my breath. “Mr. Valeur?” Her expression is reassuring. “Ms. James has mild smoke inhalation, but she's responding well to oxygen therapy. She'll be tired for a day or two, but there's no lasting damage.”

Relief washes over me, so intense it’s almost painful. I blink back tears. The adrenaline fades, leaving me exhausted, but I can’t rest yet. I need to make sure she’s okay.

“Can I see her?”

“Yes, she’s been asking for you.” The doctor nods, leading me to a small, dimly lit room. Aleria lies there, looking small and vulnerable in the hospital bed. But her eyes are open, and when she sees me, a weak smile curves her lips.

“You look terrible,” she croaks, her voice raspy.

A laugh bubbles up from my chest, surprising in its intensity. “You should see the other guy,” I quip, gesturing to my bandaged arm.

Aleria’s eyes widen. “Liam, you’re hurt! What happened?”

I shrug. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch from playing the hero.”

She reaches out, her fingers brushing my bandaged arm. “You saved me.”

“Always,” I reply, the word carrying more weight than I intended.

Our eyes lock, and the air feels charged. I clear my throat, breaking the moment before I do something impulsive.

“The doctor says you need rest and care,” I say. “I... I’d like to take you to my place. Just until you’re feeling better,” I add, seeing her hesitation. “I have a guest room, and I’d feel better knowing you’re not alone.”

Aleria’s brow furrows. “Liam, I appreciate the offer, but I can handle myself. I don’t need?—”

“Please,” I interrupt, surprising us both with the intensity in my voice. “I know you’re capable. But I need to know you’re safe. Just for a few days.”

She studies my face, something unreadable in her expression. “Okay,” she says.

An hour later, I’m helping her into my home, Marcus a silent presence behind us.

“You didn’t have to do this, Liam,” she mumbles.

“I wanted to,” I reply, tightening my arm around her waist as she stumbles. “I need to know you’re safe.”

She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. “Why?”

I swallow hard, years of maintained distance crumbling in the face of how close I came to losing her. “Because... Because you matter to me, Aleria. More than I think you realize.”

Her breath catches, and for a moment, we stand there on the precipice of something neither of us is quite ready to name. Then she sways, reminding me of her fragile state.

“Come,” I say, guiding her toward the guest room. “Let’s get you settled.”

I guide Aleria toward the guest room, hyper-aware of her body next to mine. Her warmth, her scent—even tinged with smoke—it’s all overwhelming. As I help her into bed, my hand lingers on hers. I have to force myself to let go.

There’s a universe of things I want to say. How seeing her trapped in that lab was the most terrifying moment of my life. How the thought of losing her made me realize just how deep my feelings run.

That I fucking love her.

That I never really got over her after college. That maybe every woman since then was just me trying to forget the quiet physics student with mismatched socks who saw straight through my Valeur facade. That she's always been it for me, even when I was too stupid or scared to realize it.

But the words stick in my throat. She needs rest, not my emotional baggage.

As I turn to leave, letting her rest, Aleria’s voice stops me. “Liam?”

My heart skips at the vulnerability in her expression.

“When I was trapped in that lab,” she says, “all I could think about was you.”

The admission hits me like a physical blow. “Aleria,” I breathe, crossing back to her bedside in two quick strides. “I was terrified I might lose you.”

Our eyes lock, and the world seems to fall away.

There’s only Aleria, only this moment. The air between us charged with years of unspoken feelings and near misses, of coffee shop almost-conversations and shared glances across lecture halls, of all the times I should have told her how I felt but didn't.

I lean in slightly, drawn by the warmth in her eyes, then catch myself. She needs rest, not...

I start to pull back, already cursing myself for this moment of weakness?—

“Oh, for heaven's sake.” Aleria's fingers curl around the back of my neck, and she pulls me closer. “Kiss me already, you stupid man.”

For a split second, I'm frozen. Then our lips meet, and everything else fades away. The kiss starts soft, tender, almost reverent.

Then something snaps.

Years of pent-up emotion come pouring out as the kiss deepens. My hands cup her face, memorizing every contour. Her fist is in my shirt, pulling me closer like she’s afraid I might disappear. I pour everything I can’t say into the kiss—my fear, my relief, my love.

When we break apart, we’re both breathless. I rest my forehead against hers, unwilling to put any more distance between us than necessary.

“Liam, I...” she begins but trails off, at a loss for words.

As I look into her eyes, I see a whirlwind of emotions that likely mirror my own. Confusion, hope, fear, and something deeper, something neither of us is quite ready to name out loud.

In this moment, I realize everything has changed. There’s no going back to the careful distance we’ve maintained, no pretending this didn’t happen. The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.

“Aleria,” I say, squeezing her hand. “It’s late. We don’t have to figure this all out right now. You need to rest. But I’m not going anywhere. We’ll talk when you’re feeling better. I promise.”