Chapter 3The Unusual Boyfriend

The memory sent a jolt of heat through me. I patted my flushed cheeks and quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, Liam, are you hungry? I'll go see what we have for dinner."

Liam let out a long, shaky breath, his eyes following me as I walked to the kitchen. He seemed to have reached some sort of terrible resolution.

"Nina," he began, his voice heavy. "I don't know what's happened between then and now, or why I'm... like this. Maybe you have some kind of leverage over me, I don't know."

"But I will not allow myself to be this person. I can't do these... shady, underhanded things. I'm not cut out for the drama, the jealousy, the backstabbing."

"I have to cut this toxic tie, now. I have to end this chaotic mess—especially this relationship, which is a violation of the law, of morality, of every principle I hold dear."

"I'm telling you right now, I would rather die than be a—"

I pulled open the refrigerator door and waved a container at him. "Dinner is pizza and the chicken soup my mom sent over. Sound good, honey?"

The word hung in the air.

Liam’s expression of tortured indignation vanished. He blinked, his eyes wide, as if savoring the sound.

Three long seconds passed.

A dark blush crept up to the tips of his ears.

"O-Okay," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.

For the next half hour, Liam stood as still as a statue, a storm of conflicting emotions warring on his face. He looked utterly defeated. The white bandage on his forehead only added to the tragic, broken-beauty effect.

The accident hadn't marred his handsome features in the slightest. If anything, it had softened the sharp, ruthless edge he'd honed over years in the corporate world, making him seem younger, more vulnerable.

"Nina, I have to be clear," he started again, his brow furrowed with grim determination. "I can't—I won't—engage in any more of this clandestine..."

His voice was cut short by the sharp ring of the doorbell.

Ding-dong.

The pizza had arrived, right on time.

At my side, Liam went rigid, instantly on high alert. He fumbled for the remote and clicked off the TV, his eyes wide with panic as he looked at me.

I bit my lip, remembering the doctor's warning. Post-accident, Liam might be sensitive to sudden, loud noises. Doorbells, car horns, anything startling.

I reached out and gently stroked his jaw, my voice soft. "It's okay. Don't worry. You just stay here, you don't have to go to the door."

His shoulders trembled slightly at my touch. He flinched away, his lips pressed into a thin, white line, but he didn't say anything.

I paid for the pizza and signed for a package that had also arrived, then walked back into the living room.

But when I stepped inside, Liam was gone.

The only evidence he'd been there was the deep impression his body had left on the sofa cushion and the faint, clean scent of cedarwood that hung in the air. If not for those traces, I would have thought I'd imagined him entirely.

I scanned the empty room, a knot of confusion tightening in my stomach. "Liam?"

Silence.

I thought for a moment, then headed upstairs. The bedroom was dark, with no sign of him. I flipped on the light.

My eyes were immediately drawn to the wardrobe.

A familiar sliver of fabric was caught in the door, trembling faintly.