Page 21 of Liam
A portly man in an ill-fitting tuxedo stands far too close, a sleazy grin stretching across his face. “Couldn’t help myself, darling,” he slurs, eyes dragging over me. “A pretty little thing like you could use a real man to sponsor her interests. What do you say?”
My brain scrambles for a response.
“I’d recommend you rethink that,” Liam says, appearing by my side. His voice is low and deceptively calm, though Ican hear the edge underneath it. His fingers graze the small of my back, grounding me in a way I didn’t expect.
The man blinks. “Who are you?” he asks, trying to puff himself up despite his awkward retreat.
Liam’s grip tightens slightly, his eyes narrowing in a way that would make anyone second-guess their choices. “I’m the man who’s going to make sure you regret what you just did. Now apologize to Dr. James.”
The man’s grin falters as his brain catches up. His hand balls into a fist, clumsy and slow. He swings toward Liam, but it’s like punching at smoke—Liam pulls me out of reach in a smooth, practiced motion.
The man lurches forward, stumbling as his weight carries him, knocking into a nearby Go table. The beautiful antique board topples to the floor, priceless stones scattering across the polished wood. Gasps of horror echo through the ballroom.
“You just had to make a scene,” I whisper to Liam, dropping to my knees to gather the stones.
Liam crouches beside me, close enough that his presence becomes impossible to ignore. His hand brushes mine briefly, sending a ripple of awareness up my arm.
“I didn’t make a scene; he did,” Liam says, his voice low but firm. His tone cuts through the tension in the air, sharp and confident as if it belongs to someone who’s used to handling this kind of thing. “And I wasn’t about to let him get away with what he did.”
My heart pounds in my chest, and I can’t stop the conflicting emotions whirling inside me—part mortified that this even happened, part oddly comforted. No one’s everstood up for me like that. Not so quickly. Not without hesitation.
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. His usual cocky grin is gone, replaced by something unreadable, something serious that makes me feel too exposed. Too seen.
“You didn’t have to do it like that,” I mumble, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “I’m not some damsel in distress.”
His gaze flickers to mine, steady, almost piercing. “I know you’re not,” he says, his voice quieter now, and for a moment, the world seems to shrink to just the two of us, crouched together on the floor, surrounded by the chaos of scattered stones. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll let someone treat you like that. Not ever.”
There’s a protective edge to his words that tightens something in my chest. It’s overwhelming, this feeling of being defended so fiercely, especially by Liam. And in front of everyone, no less. My cheeks burn hotter. I don’t know whether to thank him or tell him off.
The event organizer strides toward us, his face thunderous. “Mr. Valeur, Dr. James, I’m afraid I must ask you both to leave immediately. This behavior is absolutely unacceptable.”
Liam straightens, his jaw clenched. “Sir, if you’d allow me to explain?—”
“No explanations necessary,” the organizer cuts him off. “Out. Now. Both of you.”
Liam opens his mouth to argue, but I catch his arm, shaking my head. It’s not worth it.
As security escorts us out, I can’t help but feel a mix of mortification and gratitude. The evening is ruined, but Liam’s swift defense stirred something unexpected within me.
We stand on the opulent steps, the cool night air a sharp contrast to the heated atmosphere inside. The absurdity of the situation hits me, and a snort of laughter escapes, pursued by a full-blown giggle. Liam looks at me in surprise before his own composure cracks, a grin spreading across his face.
“I can’t believe I got kicked out of the most prestigious Go tournament in the country,” I groan, a hysterical giggle bubbling up in my throat. “And I can’t believe they kickedyouout too.”
Liam runs a hand through his hair, mussing his perfect coiffure. “Well, Dr. James, I suppose we’re both losers tonight,” he says, a smile playing on his lips. His expression softens, eyes meeting mine. “I’m truly sorry for how they treated you in there. You didn’t deserve any of that.”
I shrug, aiming for nonchalance but missing by a mile. “I’m used to the rich being…well, rich.”
“Then I apologize on behalf of all us rich people,” Liam says, his tone sincere.
I’m about to reply when Liam’s phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, his expression shifting to one of concern.
“Give me a minute,” he mutters, stepping away. His voice is low, the tension clear as he speaks in clipped tones. I can’t make out the words, but the furrow in his brow deepens with every second, his posture stiffening as if bracing for a storm.
When he turns back to me, the lightness between us is gone, replaced by something colder, sharper.
“I have to go,” he says, his voice tight, controlled. “There’s something I need to deal with.”
I try to keep my expression neutral, to brush off the sudden disappointment creeping in. “Oh, sure. Of course. Work stuff?”
