Chapter <b>8 </b>
The sun had started setting, casting golden streaks across the grocery store parking lot <b>when </b><b>I </b>stepped outside. Anger simmered beneath the surface as I clutched the neatly packed paper bags in both arms.
And then I stopped dead in my tracks.
The ck Aston Martin was gone.
My jaw dropped slightly. I spun in a slow, disbelieving circle. Maybe. Just maybe, he was parked in a different spot.
He wasn’t.
“Are you kidding me?” I muttered.
A sharp breeze tugged at my dress as I stood frozen, overwhelmed by disbelief.
I took a deep breath. Calm down, I whispered to myself. With trembling fingers, I pulled my phone from my pocket and ordered a ride back to his house.
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By the time I reached the estate and walked through the kitchen entrance with the groceries, I <b>was </b>heartbeat away from exploding.
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Liam sat at kitchen ind, eyes glued to his phone,pletely unfazed by the fact that he’d left me behind at the store.
“You left me,” I said, mming the bags onto the counter. <fn433a> ??? ????? ???????s ??? ?????s??? ?? Find?Novel</fn433a>
He didn’t look up. “You walked off. I figured you needed space.”
“You left me stranded,” I snapped. “And you knew my car was here!”
“I had somewhere to be.”
“Right,” I huffed, pulling things from the bags more aggressively than necessary. “Of course. God forbid Liam ck bete for his business meetings.”
He finally set the phone down. “You made it back.”
“Thanks to Uber,” I fired back. “But yeah, I made it.”
We stared at each other in silence, like we were locked in a staring contest. Something thick and unfamiliar stirred between us.
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I looked away first. “Your guests will get their precious meal tomorrow. Don’t worry.”
He nodded once. “Good.”
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Byte morning the next day, the scent of garlic, white wine, and rosemary filled the kitchen. My ylist hummed quietly in the background as I ted the main course.
Everything was perfect. Or close enough.
I wiped my hands on a linen towel, double–checked the order of service on the counter, and reached for the final garnish when Liam stepped into the kitchen.
“They’re here,” He said, his voice low, unreadable.
I didn’t look up. “Almost done. Five guests, right?”
“Yeah.” A pause. “First course in ten.”
“Got it.”
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The next twenty minutes passed in a quiet rhythm. First the soup, then the sd, then the main course. Delivered like clockwork to Liam’s elite business circle. All men. All steel eyes, tight smiles, and suit that screamed power.
As I stepped into the study to serve the third course, I could feel the tension in the room. Could’ve been business negotiations. Or maybe just the sh of too many over inted egos
tailored in suits.
I moved quietly, cing the tes down with precision.
One of them, probably in his forties, an expensive silver watch and eyes full of entitlement, gave me a slow, deliberate look as I ced his te in front of him.
“Looks even better up close,” he murmured, eyes sliding down my neckline.
I gave a tight smile and turned to leave.
But as I passed him, he reached out.
And smacked my ass.
Hard.
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The sound was obscene. The sting was worse.
My breath hitched. I froze.
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It was like time paused. Theughter around the table faltered. One of the men cleared his
throat.
“Rx, sweetheart,” he said with a greasy grin. “It was apliment.”
I turned slowly, rage boiling in my chest, my cheeks ming. I didn’t care who he was. I didn’t care how rich or important he thought he was.
But before I could say a word.
Liam’s voice cut through the room like a de.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
All heads turned.
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Liam stood, every inch of himposed, his expression hard as granite. Cold. Controlled. Deadly.
The man let out an uneasyugh. “Come on, Liam. I was only joking. ”
“Touch her again,” Liam said, voice low and terrifying, “i’ll make sure it’s thest thing you ever do.”
Silence. The entire room seemed to shrink.
Liam crossed the floor in a sh, his hand resting lightly on my lower back. Then he turned, gaze locking onto the room like a silent threat.
“She’s a chef. Not your entertainment. If anyone has a problem with that, there’s the door.
Nobody moved.
Not a sound.
Liam’s voice dropped even lower. “I said out.”
Chairs scraped.
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One by one, the men rose, murmuring stiff apologies, some not daring to meet my eyes.
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Thest to leave was the one who touched me. Liam held the door open for him with a look that promised consequences far beyond the estate walls.
When the door finally closed, the house was silent again.
And I was still standing there, stunned, breathless, unsure whether I was angry or grateful.
Liam turned to me. His eyes, now softer. Still intense.
“Are you okay?”
I let out a shaky breath. “No.”
His jaw tightened. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that,”
“This is your world, that’s how they see me,” I snapped. “And honestly? I’m not even sure how you see me half the time.”
The silence stretched.
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Then he asked, quieter now, “Is there anything I can do to fix this?”
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I stared at him.
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For a moment, I wanted to yell at him. To release the anger that has been piling up inside me. But he had defended me, and that counted for something.
But instead, I shook my head.
“No. There’s nothing.”
I turned and headed to the kitchen.
Grabbed my bag.
My hands trembled slightly as I slung it over my shoulder, but I held my head high.
When I passed him again on my way to the door, I didn’t stop. Didn’t nce back. Didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.
He didn’t call after me.
But
I could feel his gaze burn into my back
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And as the front door mmed shut behind me, the tears finally came.
I hated how vulnerable I felt.