Page 21 of A Simple Reminder

Lucas nods in agreement. “She's right, Liam. Whatever happened, you can't keep this up. It's not good for you or your reputation.” What he means isourreputation. The business.

I nod, feeling a pang of guilt. “I get it. I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

Leora sighs, her expression softening slightly. “Just...please, be safe.”

“I will.” I give them a reassuring smile.

“Okay then, so…” Leora starts, “how’s Sophie?”

No, we’re not having a conversation about Sophie this early in the morning. Mind it, they don’t know about our past, but be it as it may, I’m not in the mood. I just want to eat my breakfast and get to work, for fuck’s sake. So I resort to desperate measures.

I make static noises. “Oh-you guys,” more static, “you seem to be bre-” static, “up.” I shake the phone. “I’ll call you later.”

“Liam, stop acting like a child,” Lucas chides and I just know his jaws are locked down, almost breaking his teeth.

“Bye,” I say, turning the phone on airplane mode and setting it down on the counter. Then I relax and finally eat my breakfast in silence.

“Sir,you have a meeting with the contractor at eleven a.m., lunch with a new investor at twelve p.m., and then the new interior designer you wanted to interview is coming in around two.” Lilly continues to list my schedule for the day, but I tune out after she mentions the interior designer. I almost told her to cancel. Sophie deserves every opportunity to thrive, to get the recognition she’s earned, but another designer could bring valuable perspectives and insights—fresh ideas that complement her work. Besides, it might ease her workload. The last thing I want is for her to burn out before she can truly shine.

“...and Miss Anderson is on her way.”

“Thank you, Lilly. That should be all for now.”

Lilly nods, a faint hint of a smile playing on her lips. Her gaze lingers momentarily, almost as if she's gauging my reaction. “Just call on me if you need anything, sir,” she says, her voice a touch softer than before. As she turns to leave, I catch a subtle movement—she moistens her lips with a quick flick of her tongue.

Her pencil skirt molds perfectly to her figure, accentuating every curve as she walks away. But it’s the way she moves that catches my attention—an extra sway in her step, exaggerated to the point of looking almost rehearsed. For a second, I wonder if she’s struggling to balance or if her shoes are out to get her. Maybe she’s just really committed to the art of dramatic exits. I shake off the thought and glance away. Probably just how she walks.

A blonde bombshell walks through the door and my gaze immediately goes to her instead of Lilly.

“Oh,” Sophie stops in her tracks, her hand flying to her mouth. “God, you look...like a mess,” she says, her voice soft but trembling with concern as she takes a hesitant step closer.

I tilt my head slightly. “Okay, let’s tone down the theatrics. It’s notthatbad.” But the way her expression doesn’t budge tells me I’m not convincing either of us. So, I shift gears, forcing a faint smirk. “Good morning to you, too, Sophie.”

“We have a meeting with the contractor in an hour.” Her tone is urgent, yet there’s a mix of professional concerns with what I hope is personal.

I straighten up a bit. “I’m aware of that.”

Her eyes search my face. “Are you going to meet him looking like that?”

“There’s not much I can do now, can I?” My tone dips into a slight annoyance. I’m aware I look like a mess, and I know it’s going to come across as unprofessional. The situation spiraled out of control—all because I couldn’t rein in this lingering heat of possessiveness. The thought of slimy men around her? Fucking hell, no.

She puts her handbag on my desk and dives into it. “I should have some concealer and powder here somewhere.”

As she rummages through her bag, I take a moment to study her. I notice the way she moves, the determination in her eyes, and the incredible scent of her perfume—soft and floral, with just enough sweetness to linger without being overpowering. It wraps around me, unmistakably her.

Wait, did she say concealer and powder? As in makeup?

“Ah, here.” In her hand is a small beige tube and a round thing that looks like some kind of makeup case.

“What are you going to do with them?”

She hums as she walks around my desk and turns my chair toward her.

“We’re getting rid of the bruise around your eye; the others are cuts and I don’t want them to get infected.”

“You’re putting makeup on me?”

She puts her hands on her hips. “Please don’t start theI’m a manspeech. This will not make you less of a man.”

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