Page 65 of A Simple Reminder

She interrupts, placing a hand on my shoulder squeezing gently. “You work so hard, Liam. Let me help ease some of that tension,” she says my name again in that soft, breathy voice, I don’t like it. Her fingers start to knead my shoulder, offering a massage.

I tense up immediately. What the hell is this? My eyes dart up to her, but her expression remains innocent like she’s just trying to be helpful. But this? This isn’t appropriate.

“Lilly,” I say, firmer now. I move my hand to hers, and for a second, her eyes glimmer before I push her hand away, her smile faltering slightly.

She returns to my desk’s scattered papers. “Where do you want these? They seem to be letters from someone named Antoine.” I quickly reach for the said letters in her hand. After Sophie left me hanging, I had to do something to keep my mind occupied. So, I started organizing papers. I bring his letters with me everywhere. “I’ll take them, thank you.” Lilly smiles hesitantly before letting go of them, “Okay.”

These letters mean more to me than anything tangible around me. More than the success I’ve built, more than the titles, the money—everything. They’re the one thing I can’t replace. Several letters that my uncle sent me throughout the years, from my time in Barcelona, Porto, Lebanon. His words carried me through some of the most challenging decisions in my life and kept me grounded. The last letter I received was two years ago, just after his passing.

I feel that ache in my chest as I think about it, that weight of loss that never fully goes away, no matter how much time passes. I sigh, forcing myself to shake off the sadness creeping in.

I unfold the letter slowly, my fingers tracing the familiar handwriting like a lifeline. Each word feels heavier than the last, dragging me down with emotions I don’t know how to deal with right now.

Dear Liam,

My little one, well not so little anymore. You’ve grown to be the man your parents dreamed of. One filled with hope, love, and optimism. I couldn’t be prouder of you. I didn’t always show it, but believe me, you’ve done an incredible job with the business and yourself. You are Liam Ayoub, a name that will be spoken of with respect, not just for the success you've built but for the man you've become. There’s something special in you, a fire that burns brighter than others. Never let that fire dim. Never let anyone tell you that you’re not capable of greatness. You are?—

I stop reading, emotions clawing up my throat, threatening to choke me. My chest tightens painfully, and I blink rapidly, trying to push back the tears stinging my eyes. It’s too much. Everything is too much. Not now. Not today. I drop the letter, letting it fall to the floor. I can’t do this.

Lilly, who’s been hovering too close, kneels down quickly to pick up the letter. It’s mine. I told her I didn’t need help, and yet here she is, doing exactly what I didn’t ask for. Annoyance flares, but I bite my tongue. She’s just trying to be helpful.

But she doesn’t stand up. Instead, she stays there, kneeling in front of me, holding the letter in her hand. She looks up at me through her eyelashes, her voice soft, almost too sweet. “Here, sir,” she says. But then her hand—her goddamn hand—lands on my knee. Heat interrupts by her touch as she slowly slides it up. It’s not that good heat—it’s something else, something that makes my skin crawl. A suffocating weight presses down on me as her hand slides higher, each inch more unwelcome than the last. Her soft, too-sweet voice grates against my nerves, and I feel irritation prickling beneath the surface, overpowering any initial shock.

What the hell is she doing?

I feel my muscles tense, my jaw clenching as I try to process what’s happening. Before I can tell her to stop, the door slams open, hitting the wall with a sharp, echoing thud that jolts both of us, before it closes.

“Listen up, Liam! You have no damn right to—” Sophie’s voice slices through the room like a blade. But as she storms in, her eyes land on Lilly—kneeling at my feet, her hand still on my knee.

Sophie freezes, her mouth falling open as her eyes dart from Lilly to me, taking in every detail of the scene. I watch as her expression shifts from fury to shock, then something else I can’t quite place.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Sophie’s expression shifts from fury to shock, as she processes what she’s seeing. “Oh, I—I should’ve knocked.” Her voice stumbles, faltering, and she takes a step back. “I don’t—” She turns, practically sprinting for the door.

No. No. No. My stomach twists. I can’t let her walk away thinking this is what it looks like.

“Sophie, wait!” I’m on my feet in an instant, my voice loud. Anything to make her stay. She can’t walk away with that image burned into her mind. “Lilly, get up. Get out.”

Lilly’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t argue. She stands slowly, dusting off her skirt as if to regain some semblance of control. “But, sir?—”

“No.” My voice is steely. “No buts, Lilly. Out. Now.”

Lilly’s face flushes a deep red as she slips past Sophie, who’s still hovering by the door, frozen in place. The second the door clicks shut behind her, I turn back to Sophie. Her eyes are on the floor, and I swear I can feel the hurt radiating off her, even though she’s trying so hard to hide it.

“I didn’t mean to ruin your...moment,” she says, her voice tight, eyes still fixed on the door.

I close the distance between us quickly. “It wasn’t a moment,” I say, my voice soft but firm.

Her eyes finally meet mine, and I can see the disbelief swimming in them. They’re guarded, questioning, as if every word I say is a lie.

“You don’t owe me an explanation.” Her voice is low, defensive, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes.

“I don’t care what I owe you or don’t,” I snap, surprising myself. “I just don’t want you getting the wrong idea,” I insist, my hand itching to reach out and touch her, to make her understand, but I hold back. The last thing she needs is me crowding her.

She crosses her arms over her chest, her gaze flickering between the door and me, but she doesn’t move. “It sure looked like something,” she mutters, her lips pressing into a thin line. Her tone is sharp, but there’s something else beneath it—something that twists in my chest.

Jealousy? Is she...jealous?

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