Liam walked into the high-end jeweler with the air of a man completing a chore, not a life milestone. He pointed at the first platinum band that caught the light—a cold, glittering thing—and nodded. He didn't care about the cut or the clarity; he just needed the hardware to satisfy his father's demands.
Behind him, Ben was lingering over a display case, his eyes tracing the intricate gold settings with an unusual softness.
"Why are you looking at those like you're the one about to propose?" Liam snapped, his voice echoing in the quiet shop.
Ben jumped, a faint flush creeping up his neck. "No, sir. I'm just... admiring the craftsmanship."
"Hurry up. I need to get home and plan the logistics," Liam muttered, checking his watch.
"I'm finished, sir. Let me handle the payment."
As they drove away, Liam dialed Tasha's number. It rang to voicemail. He tried again. Nothing. The silence from her end was starting to feel like an omen.
"Ben, organize a romantic setup for tonight. Flowers, candles—whatever it is people like. Just make it look like I care. I need to get this over with."
"Tonight, sir? Isn't that a bit... sudden?"
Liam gave him a look so sharp it could have drawn blood. "I didn't ask for your opinion on the timeline, Ben."
"I'm sorry, sir."
Back at the estate, Liam paced his room. He stripped off his shirt, the cool air hitting his bare chest, but he couldn't find the energy to even step into the shower. Every luxury he owned was a leash held by his father. If he failed this, he was doomed. He looked at the ring box on the nightstand. What if she said no? What if Jeff had already turned her head?
The thought sparked a sudden, violent surge of adrenaline. "Shit!" he hissed, grabbing his phone. "Ben! Change of plans. We're doing this now. Get the car."
At Tasha's mansion, the atmosphere was far from romantic.
"So, Tasha... still no answer for me?" Jeff asked, leaning against her marble countertop.
"Come on, Jeff. I told you I'd think about it. I never said you should rush me."
"But inviting me over every night... doesn't that mean you've already made your choice?"
Tasha sighed, looking toward the window. "Jeff, I'm still dating Liam. You know what he is. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
"Liam, Liam, Liam," Jeff muttered, his brow furrowing. "It's always him."
"Yes, it's him! Until he's out of the picture, I can't give you what you want."
The front door slammed open, the sound echoing like a gunshot. Liam stormed into the living room, his eyes scanning the scene until they landed on Jeff. The sight of them together snapped the last thread of his composure. In one fluid motion, he drew his weapon.
"Damn you, Tasha!" Liam roared, his hand trembling with rage. "You chose this... this riffraff over me?"
"Liam, calm down—" Tasha started, her voice shaking.
"Shut up, or I'll blow your goddamn head off!" Liam screamed.
Jeff stood his ground, his eyes narrowing. "Liam, take that gun out of our faces before you do something you'll regret. You know better."
"Regret? I don't give a fuck about anyone right now," Liam sneered, stepping into Jeff's space. "I'm going to teach you a lesson about touching what belongs to me."
Before Jeff could react, Liam swung the butt of the pistol, connecting hard with Jeff's temple. As Jeff slumped to the floor, Liam barked an order to his guards. "Take him to the car. Throw him in my private quarters."
He turned back to Tasha, his expression a haunting mix of fury and heartbreak. He pulled the ring box from his pocket. "Tasha, baby... I came here to propose. But this motherfucker ruined it. I'm sorry."
"You're a psychopath, Liam!" she shrieked, backing away. "I hate you! I will never marry you!"
Liam let out a cold, hollow laugh. "Too late. The deal is done. There is no escape, my love."
"Get out! Leave Jeff alone or I'll tell my father!"
"We'll finish this later," Liam said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Love you."
Morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of Liam's bedroom. Jeff stirred, his head throbbing. He tried to move his arms, only to find them bound tightly to a heavy wooden chair.
"Where am I?" he groaned.
"In my room," a voice replied from the shadows.
Liam stepped into the light, watching Jeff with an unreadable expression.
"Liam, what is this? Why am I tied up?"
"One question at a time, dear," Liam said softly, pacing around him. "You'll be here for a while."
"The hell is wrong with you? Why are you like this?"
Liam stopped. He leaned over, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair so he was inches from Jeff's face. He intended to intimidate him, to break him—but as their eyes locked, the air in the room seemed to vanish.
They stared into each other's souls, their breathing hitching in unison. Jeff looked at Liam—so perfect, so aggressive, so utterly broken—and felt a surge of something that wasn't hate. Liam was lost in the depth of Jeff's blue eyes, an urge rising in him that he didn't recognize.
In the silence, Jeff realized one of his hands had slipped its binding. He didn't use it to strike. Instead, he reached up, cupping the back of Liam's neck and pulling him down.
Their lips crashed together in a kiss that was both a battle and a confession. It was passionate, painful, and desperate. They kissed like starving men, Jeff's fingers tangling in Liam's hair, refusing to let go.
Suddenly, Liam recoiled, biting Jeff's lip hard enough to draw blood.
"Ah! Why the hell did you bite me?" Jeff gasped, tasting copper.
"Why did you do that?" Liam demanded, his face flushed and his eyes wide with panic.
"I'm sorry," Jeff breathed, his voice ragged. "I just lost my head for a second."
Liam stared at him, his chest heaving. Without a word, he knelt and began untying the rest of the ropes.
"Leave," Liam whispered.
"What? Just like that?"
"GET OUT!" Liam screamed, the sound raw and desperate.
Jeff didn't argue. He stood, cast one long, lingering look at the man trembling on the edge of the bed, and left.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Liam collapsed back onto the mattress, clutching his chest. "God," he wheezed. "Why is my heart racing? No, no... that didn't happen. It couldn't have."
In the back of his car, Jeff leaned his head against the cool glass. He had known it since the first night at the club. He was bisexual, he knew his type, and Liam—violent, beautiful, broken Liam—was exactly it. That was why he hadn't called the police. That was why he had let him stalk him.
"What a mess," Jeff muttered to himself. "Everything is so messed up. You shouldn't have kissed him, Jeff. Now he'll never want to see you again."
He watched the city go by, a forbidden wish forming in his mind. He didn't want Tasha to marry Liam. He wanted Tasha to walk away so that he could be the one to tame the monster in Liam's heart.
"Stupid thought," he whispered, but he couldn't stop the smile that touched his bruised lips.