Page 3 of Liam (The Valeur Billionaires #4)

Chapter Two

ALERIA

T he lockdown siren cuts off abruptly, plunging my lab into silence.

I glance at the security panel, its display showing “CONTAINMENT PROTOCOL ACTIVE” in bright red letters.

Must be another glitch in the system. They’ve been happening since the new security upgrades last week.

Nothing’s actually wrong, but protocol is protocol.

Liam Valeur reaches for his phone, fumbling with the sleek device. A few strands of his always-impeccable hair have now fallen over his forehead. It’s almost satisfying to see the great Liam Valeur looking less than perfect.

“No signal,” he mutters, a string of curses following under his breath. Each word probably costs more than my monthly rent.

“The Faraday cage,” I explain, unable to keep the smugness from my voice. “When lockdown starts, it activates an electromagnetic shield around the lab and keeps signals from getting in or out.” I tap my own useless phone.

“I have meetings,” he snaps, checking his watch for the third time in a minute. “Important ones. How long does this usually last?”

“Could be minutes, could be an hour.” I shrug, watching him grow more agitated. “They have to run through all the safety protocols before?—”

“An hour?” He whirls around, his calm CEO facade cracking. “That’s not acceptable. There has to be an override or something.”

“Oh sure,” I say dryly, “let me just pull that out of my secret drawer of things to please impatient CEOs.”

He shoots me a glare that would probably make his board members quiver. I smile in return.

He’s changed since our university days, and not just in the expected ways. Gone is the young man I remember. In his place stands a man who seems to command the very air around him.

His tailored suit does little to hide the fact that he’s filled out since college.

The fabric stretches across broad shoulders that weren’t there before.

As he runs a hand through his hair, I notice the way his bicep strains against his sleeve.

Clearly, the man’s found time for more than just board meetings and yacht parties.

His face has matured, too, losing the last vestiges of boyish roundness. His jawline is sharp, high cheekbones, and those piercing blue eyes that I never forgot seem even more intense now. A light dusting of stubble gives him a rugged edge that contrasts with his polished appearance.

It’s not an unpleasant look .

How is it fair that he gets to be obscenely rich, obviously smart—though I’d never admit that out loud—and look like...well, like that?

I shake my head, trying to dispel these unwelcome thoughts. So what if he’s aged like a fine wine? He’s still the same entitled, arrogant man who broke me without a second thought, the one who vanished without a word. No amount of muscle or chiseled features can change that.

I’ve built walls since then, walls that won’t crumble just because Liam Valeur has reappeared in my life. He'll never get close enough to hurt me again. Some of us actually have integrity, and I'll be damned if I let him waltz back into my life and wreak havoc all over again.

I lean against my favorite lab bench, crossing my arms.

“Problem, Mr. Valeur? Don’t tell me you’re missing a vital board meeting about—what is it you do again? Professional money-counting?”

He glares at me, those blue eyes flashing with anger as he pockets his useless phone. “This is serious. We need to get out of here. Now.”

“Oh, of course,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Heaven forbid the world be deprived of your presence for an hour. I’m sure the economy will collapse without you there to what? Sign things? Frown at spreadsheets?”

He runs a hand through his hair again, messing up the styled locks even more.

I wonder how much he pays for that haircut.

“I need to be?—”

“Somewhere else?” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Yes, you said. Let me guess, you’re losing money. ”

His jaw clenches, a muscle twitching. It’s almost hypnotic. “You don’t know anything about me or my responsibilities.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s difficult being a billionaire,” I say, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. “All those yacht parties to attend, golf games to play. How do you manage?”

Liam paces the length of my lab, his expensive shoes clicking against the linoleum floor. He navigates around the cluttered tables and equipment, his discomfort growing with each pass. He looks like a caged animal, all sleek lines and barely contained energy.

“Isn’t there an emergency override or something?” he asks, his voice tight.

I roll my eyes, pushing myself off the bench. “Oh sure.” I make a show of rummaging through a nearby drawer, pulling out a broken pencil. “Will this do? Or would you prefer a solid gold override switch? I’m sure that’s more your style.”

“Don’t you care that we’re trapped?” he snaps, stopping his pacing to face me.

I spread my arms wide, gesturing to the surrounding space. “In my lab, surrounded by my life’s work? Oh, the horror. How will I cope with all this science?”

Liam turns away from me, examining the doors and windows. He tugs at the reinforced glass, his muscles straining against his tailored suit. The sight of the fabric hugging his shoulders steals my focus. Snap out of it.

“Planning a daring escape, Mr. Bond?” I call out, unable to resist mocking him. “Should I expect you to rappel down the building using a rope made of lab coats? Or perhaps you have a helicopter on standby? That seems more your speed.”

He whirls around to face me, his face flushed with anger. It’s a good look on him, I have to admit .

“At least I’m doing something instead of just sitting there like it’s a normal Monday.”

“Maybe because it is a normal Monday for me. Some of us enjoy our work. You know, contributing to society instead of just leeching off it?”

“Enjoy your work?” He pauses by my workstation, his eyes catching on my unlocked computer screen. The timesheet application is still open from when I logged in this morning. His eyebrows rise as he leans closer, scanning the numbers.

“You did seventy-five hours last week.”

Heat creeps up my neck, moving up to my cheeks. I force my voice to stay neutral and professional. This partnership could mean everything for the project. “The research requires dedication.”

“Dedication.” His careful tone makes my fingers clench. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Some of us feel passionate about our work,” I say, straightening a stack of papers that doesn’t need straightening.

He laughs. “Right. I’m sure your intellectual fulfillment keeps you warm at night.”

“Well, at least I don’t need to buy my friends with corporate credit cards and fancy dinners. I bet your idea of a deep conversation is discussing stock options,” I snap, professionalism abandoning me.

“Buying friends?” He shakes his head, his own anger rising. “That’s rich coming from someone whose closest relationship is probably with a microscope. Do you name your petri dishes?”

“At least microscopes don’t run the morning after,” I mutter, turning away from him. “And for your information, I only name the special ones.”

I move toward my workstation, needing to put some distance between us. The lab suddenly becomes too small, too cramped, with his overbearing presence filling every corner.

“Wait,” he says, his voice different. “Do you actually live here? Please tell me that’s not your bed.”

I freeze, realizing he’s spotted the cot I keep hidden behind some boxes.

Damn, his observant eyes. My shoulders tense as I keep my back to him.

“It’s just for power naps. Sometimes, breakthroughs happen at 3 AM.

Not that you’d understand the concept of a breakthrough that doesn’t involve profit margins. ”

“Breakthroughs? Or hiding from the fact that you have nothing else in your life?”

His words hit a nerve, and I whirl around, fury warring with the knowledge that I need this deal. Need him. Professionally, of course. “Science is my life. Not all of us need cocktail parties and multiple partners to feel fulfilled. Some of us care about making a difference in the world.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I want to snatch them back. Stupid, stupid, stupid. There goes months of research funding. But his presence makes my skin prickle, my usual self-control fracturing under that piercing blue gaze.

His anger seems to deflate, replaced by something that looks suspiciously like pity. It only fuels my rage. How dare he pity me?

“There’s an entire world outside these walls, Dr. James,” he says. “Don’t you ever want to experience it?”

Dr. Kim’s warning echoes in my head. Be nice. Show him the project. Our funding depends on this . Instead, I hear myself say, “Why? So I can meet more people like you? No thanks. I prefer the company of people with actual souls.”

My words strike home. His jaw tightens, eyes flashing. God help me, but anger makes him even more attractive. The thought only ignites my temper further.

“You know what your problem is?” he snaps, his voice climbing. “You're so afraid of life that you've locked yourself in this lab long before any lockdown forced you to!”

The accusation lands harder than I’d care to admit, but I refuse to back down. Even as a voice screams in my head to stop, to apologize, to save the project, I can't seem to help myself.

“And you’re so terrified of anything real that you hide behind boardrooms and numbers, pushing people away.

When was the last time you let someone in?

Really in?” The gossip blogs I definitely don't read flash through my mind—three charity galas in the past year, three different dates, never the same woman twice. Not that I've been keeping track. “I don’t see anyone in your life you care enough about to keep close. And no, family doesn’t count.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me or my life,” he shouts back. “You’re so quick to judge based on some preconceived notion of who I am. Have you ever considered that I might have a girlfriend?”

“Do you?” The question comes out softer than I intended, betraying more interest than I want to show. I hate that my heart speeds up waiting for his answer.

“No. But that’s not the point.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Did I hurt the billionaire’s feelings? Should I call your army of lawyers? Or perhaps your PR team to spin this into a heartwarming story about the misunderstood rich guy?”

“You’re impossible,” he growls, taking a step closer to me. “Do you practice being this irritating, or does it come naturally?”

“It’s a gift,” I shoot back, refusing to back down. “Much like your gift for being a pompous, overblown windbag.”

We’re standing toe to toe now, glaring at each other. His eyes—stormy blue, flecked with something darker—bore into mine, daring me to look away.

That infuriatingly intoxicating scent of his, all rich spice and cedarwood, wraps around me, making it impossible to think clearly.

My pulse quickens despite myself, my breath coming faster, matching the pounding in my chest. Even now, when he’s being an arrogant ass, he smells like temptation itself.

“I think you’re jealous. Jealous that some of us can have both a successful career and a fulfilling personal life.” His voice drops lower, more intimate. “It must be hard, being so brilliant yet so alone. When was the last time you went on a date? My bet is, never.”

A surge of white-hot anger boils in me, obliterating all thoughts of funding and professional consequences. My body moves before my brain can catch up. “You arrogant, presumptuous?—”

My arm swings out in a wide arc, meant to shove him away. Instead, my hand smacks against something hard, followed by a sharp click. A hissing sound fills the air, and my stomach drops as I realize what I've done.

Water crashes down from above, the lab’s sprinkler system erupting in a torrent. The cold shock hits me, and I gasp as it soaks through my lab coat, the fabric clinging to my skin in seconds.

Liam pulls me close, wrapping me in the warmth of his body as the water pours around us. The cold splashes against us, but his embrace shields me from the worst of it.

He sheds his jacket, holding it high above my head to block the relentless spray.

We stand motionless, our rapid breaths in perfect sync, chests rising and falling against each other.

Our eyes lock, and a jolt shoots through me, electric and unexpected. My mouth opens, a sarcastic quip ready, but the words die on my tongue.

We remain frozen in this strange tableau, water cascading around us.

Liam’s white shirt, now translucent, clings to the contours of his chest. His hair, usually so perfect, hangs in wet strands, framing his face.

Every point where our bodies touch feels like a livewire, sending sparks through my skin.

His eyes hold mine. The intensity in them catches me off guard, making my heart race for reasons I don’t want to examine.

“Well,” I manage, my voice unsteady, “I hope you didn’t have plans to wear that suit again. Though I’m sure you have a closet full of identical ones, right?”

Liam remains silent, his eyes roving over my face, searching. The weight of his gaze makes me want to squirm, but I hold still, unwilling to break whatever spell has fallen over us.

The sprinklers continue their relentless downpour, but we stand unmoving, locked in this moment. Transitioning from anger to...this, whatever it is, leaves me reeling.

“If you wanted to cool off,” he says, “you could have just said so. No need for the dramatics.”