Page 97 of Strictly Business

Liam laughs bitterly, his gaze shifting to Amara. “Forget me? She’d have to stop stuffing her face long enough to even look at someone new.”

The blood in my veins boils. Every muscle in my body tightens as fury takes over, and before I can stop myself, my fist flies through the air, slamming into his jaw with a sickening thud. He stumbles back, eyes wide with shock as he blood trickles out of his mouth.

I close the distance, my fist aching with the force of the hit, and I grab him by the collar, lifting him off the ground. “Don’t youevertalk to my fiancée like that again. If you do, I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill you. You don’t fucking know me. I can make a body go away.”

Liam spits out blood, sneering as he tries to regain his composure. “Enjoy my sloppy seconds.”

Fuck, I want to pummel him into the ground. “The only sloppy thing here is your inability to actually make a woman come.”

His nostrils flare, blood staining his busted lip, and I can see the fury building in him. I release my grip on his collar, my chest pounding with anger. “Get the fuck out of our apartment, and don’t ever contact her again.”

Liam wipes his lip, a scoff escaping his lips as he tries to compose himself. “Fuck this.” He turns on his heel, storming out of the apartment.

I glance at Amara, her eyes wide with shock, her breathing uneven. “Nicholas, what—”

I don’t give her a chance to finish. My lips crash into hers with a deep urgency, my hands gripping her face as if it’s the only thing holding me together. I pour every ounce of the rage and the relief I feel into that kiss, reminding myself that she’s mine.

She always has been.

Chapter thirty-three

Amara

His lips crash into mine before I can say another word.

It’s intense, heated, pouring all of his frustration into the kiss. His hands find my face, cradling it like he’s afraid I might disappear if he lets go. Every inch of me melts into him, and for a moment, I forget everything else. Liam. The insults he threw at me. Everything.

“Nicholas…” I murmur against his lips.

“Let me kiss you,” he mutters, his voice rough… pained, even. “Just…fuck. I need this.”

He closes the distance again, and I gasp into his mouth as he kisses me deeper, rougher, desperate. I feel the tension rolling off him, the clench of his jaw, the faint tremor in his fingers as he grips my waist.

“Nicholas,” I whisper.

He groans, pulling away with a ragged breath. There’s a flicker of something dark in his eyes as he steps back, running a hand through his hair in frustration before he turns around. “Fuck.”

“Nicholas?” I breathe, a frown tugging at my lips.

He turns toward me, his face suddenly hard. “What the hell was he doing here, Amara?” His eyes lock onto mine, dark and intense. “Why were you alone with him?” he presses. “In our apartment?”

The word snags in my chest.Our. Not his. Ours. Even now, with the flicker of hurt in his eyes and the tension radiating off him, he still calls it ours.

“How did he even know where you were?” His nostrils flare, his jaw tight.

“He still had my location on his phone,” I tell him, my throat feeling tight at the way his expression shifts. “I didn’t tell him, Nicholas. I swear.”

He takes a step closer, his gaze boring into mine. “Do you still have feelings for him?” His thumb brushes against my bottom lip.

I shake my head, firm and certain, not an ounce of doubt in me. “No, Nicholas. I don’t.”

The relief on his face is instant but fleeting. His shoulders relax, but his grip on me tightens, his hands sliding firmly to my waist. “Then tell me.” His voice drops lower, sending a shiver down my spine. “What the fuck was that asshole doing here? Why did he think he still had a chance with you?” His eyes burn into mine. “When it’smyring on your finger?”

I suck in a breath, his words sinking deep into my chest. There’s something about the way he says it that makes me dizzy.This isn’t real, I remind myself.It’s all fake. But the way he’s looking at me, the way his voice wavers as he waits for my answer… feels anything but fake.

“He texted me,” I admit. “He said he wanted to talk, and I—” I falter, shaking my head. “I don’t know. I thought maybe I needed closure.”

His jaw tightens, his brows knitting together. “Closure,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You wanted to see if you’d made a mistake. In choosing me.”

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