Chapter 14 The Trap Sprung
Time froze.
Alessia stood rooted beside Liam’s desk, the camera burning like a hot coal in her hand. Her mind raced, spiraling through a thousand possible scenarios, a thousand ways this could end. None of them good.
Liam stepped into the study, closing the door behind him with a soft click that sounded like a cell door slamming shut.
He was in dark sweatpants and a t-shirt, hair messy like he’d just rolled out of bed. But his eyes were sharp, alert, predatory.
He hadn’t been sleeping.
He’d been waiting.
“I asked you a question,” Liam said, voice calm but dangerous. “What are you doing in my study?”
Alessia’s training screamed at her. Stay calm. Control your breathing. Make a story believable.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, voice steady despite adrenaline flooding her system. “I heard a noise. Thought someone might have broken in.”
“So you came to investigate?” His tone was sharp, mocking. “In the dark? Without waking me? Without calling security?”
“I didn’t want to overreact.”
“Right.” He moved closer, deliberate, slow. “And the camera in your hand? What’s that for?”
Her blood ran cold.
She looked down at the device she’d forgotten she was holding. Think. Think.
“It’s for protection,” she said quickly. “I wanted to document anything suspicious. In case—”
“In case what?” Liam was practically on top of her, fury burning behind his eyes. “In case you needed evidence against me?”
“Against whoever broke in.”
“No one broke in, Alessia.” His gaze cut through her. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not—”
“Stop.” His voice snapped like a whip. “Stop lying to me.”
The mask she’d perfected for years cracked, just a little. She could see it in the tension in his jaw, in the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.
He knew. Somehow, he knew.
But how much?
“I had a feeling,” Liam continued, voice dropping to something darker, more dangerous, “a feeling that you weren’t who you claimed to be. That you were hiding something. Tonight… you proved me right.”
A feeling. Not proof. Not evidence. He was fishing.
She could still salvage this.
“You want the truth?” she said, voice hardening. “Fine. I was looking for evidence. But not for whatever conspiracy you’ve invented in your head.”
“Then what?”
“Evidence of your disloyalty.” She took a step closer, turning the accusation back on him. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? The late-night meetings? The private phone calls? The ledgers you guard like state secrets?”
His expression didn’t change—but something flickered in his eyes.
“I’m protecting myself,” Alessia continued, voice stronger now. “Because I know how this works. The moment I’m no longer useful, I’m disposable. So yes, I was looking for information. Something to use if you ever decided to throw me to the wolves.”
“You think I’d betray you?”
“I think you’d do whatever it takes to protect your family.” She met his gaze evenly. “Just like I would.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.
Liam studied her, searching for cracks, lies, anything.
Alessia held her ground. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.
“You were in my desk,” he said finally.
“Looking for anything that might suggest you were planning to use me as a bargaining chip with the Council. Or my father. Or anyone else who might want me dead.”
“And did you find anything?”
“No.” The lie slipped out naturally. “Just business records.”
Liam’s jaw tightened. “And the camera?”
“I told you. Documentation. Protection.”
“Show me.”
“What?”
“The camera. Show me what you photographed.”
Her heart thundered, but she kept her expression neutral. Handing him the camera, she prayed he wouldn’t notice the micro SD card she’d slipped into her bra during the seconds he entered.
He turned the camera over, checking the memory.
Empty.
His eyes flared with suspicion.
“You didn’t take any photos.”
“I didn’t have time. You interrupted me.”
Silence again.
Then Liam stepped closer, closing the space, forcing her back until her spine hit the bookshelf.
So close she could feel the heat from his body. The storm behind his eyes.
“If you’re lying, Alessia,” he murmured, face inches from hers, voice silk and steel, “this ends in blood.”
She lifted her chin. Refused to be intimidated. “I’m not lying.”
“Everyone lies.”
“Then I guess we’re both guilty.”
His hand rose, bracing against the bookshelf beside her head, caging her.
“You have no idea what you’re playing with,” he whispered. “No idea what I’m capable of.”
“I have a pretty good idea.”
“Do you?”
His other hand came up, gripping her jaw, tilting her face toward his.
Alessia’s breath caught.
She should push him. Keep distance. Remember he was the enemy. The target. The man she was meant to destroy.
But she couldn’t.
Something in his eyes had shifted. Dark. Dangerous. Wanting.
“You’re either the best liar I’ve ever met,” he whispered, thumb brushing her lower lip, “or you’re telling the truth. And I can’t figure out which.”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Instead of answering, he kissed her.
Hard. Punishing. Consuming.
Not gentle. Not romantic. A claim. A challenge. A question pressed to her lips with the weight of everything unsaid.
Alessia’s mind screamed—push him. Remember the mission. Control.
Her body betrayed her.
She kissed him back. Just as hard. Just as desperate.
Just as conflicted.
Hands fisted in his t-shirt, pulling him closer, even as her brain screamed to stop. His hand slid from jaw to neck, fingers tangling in her hair.
The kiss deepened, molten, uncontrollable.
Then he pulled back, ragged breathing, eyes dark and confused, furious.
“What the hell are we doing?” he rasped.
She couldn’t answer. She didn’t know.
She only knew lips swollen, heart racing, every nerve screaming for more.
“This doesn’t change anything,” Liam said, voice rough.
“I still don’t trust you.”
“Good,” she managed, voice unsteady. “Because I don’t trust you either.”
They stared, both breathing hard, tension and desire crackling.
Liam stepped back, giving space.
“Get out of my study,” he said quietly.
Alessia pushed off the bookshelf, legs unsteady, walking past him silently. Camera—empty now—still in her hand.
Hidden against her skin, between fabric and flesh, the SD card.
Every page of that ledger. Every secret. Thorne’s key to destroying the O’Sullivans.
She reached her bedroom, closed the door, leaning against it, body trembling. Lips still ghosted with his kiss.
What the hell are we doing?
She didn’t know.
One thing was terrifyingly certain.
She’d crossed a line.
No going back.