Page 50 of Liam
I close my eyes, trying to quiet my racing thoughts. But in that space between waking and sleeping, a kaleidoscope of images flashes through my mind. Jake's warm smile, the jogger in the park that looked so much like Liam, the feel of Liam's fingers on my skin all those years ago...
And then, just before sleep claims me, a new thought surfaces: What if Liam's email isn't about work at all? What if...?
Chapter Fourteen
LIAM
Istep off the elevator at LumiVera, straightening my tie in a futile attempt to look put together. My mind is still reeling from the family meeting last night, the weight of our secrets pressing down on me like a physical force. How am I supposed to lead a company when my entire world has been turned upside down?
I round the corner of the hallway. Aleria is hunched over her desk, her fingers flying across the keyboard with the intensity of someone defusing a bomb. At the sound of my approach, she startles, her elbow knocking over a precarious stack of papers.
“Dr. James,” I say, plastering on what I hope is a normal smile but must look more like a grimace. “You’re here early.”
Aleria’s head snaps up, her eyes wide. “Hmm. Yes.” She scrambles to her feet. “Your message last night asked me to be here early.”
My stomach drops. The message. Oh God. Fragments of my drunken rambling float back through my hangover haze. Something about her eyes... and Jake... and being beautiful… Did I actually send it? Oh my God.
“Message?” I try for casual, but my voice cracks.
“The one about the emergency meeting?” Her cheeks flush pink. “It was rather cryptic.”
“Ah. That.” I clear my throat, tugging at my suddenly too-tight collar. “Of course. The meeting. We need to prepare the presentation.”
She nods, not meeting my eyes. “The presentation. Yes.”
As she pulls up the slides, I catch her biting her lip—that habit I definitely didn’t notice or mention in my text. I force my gaze to my notes, but the words blur before my eyes. The scent of her perfume wafts over me—subtle, floral, intoxicating. It takes every ounce of willpower not to lean closer, to breathe her in.
“Dr. James,” I say, desperate to break the tension, “I think that should be 3.14159, not 3.14195.”
“Oh! You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m a bit distracted today.”
She leans over to correct the slide, and I glimpse her breasts as her blouse shifts. My mouth goes dry, and I have to physically stop myself from reaching out to trace the delicate line of it.
Drunk me was right about one thing—I am completely, utterly screwed.
A strand of hair falls across her face. I reach out to tuck it behind her ear. We both freeze.
For a moment, neither of us moves. I’m acutely aware of how close we are, of the warmth of her skin under my fingertips. Her eyes widen, pupils dilating.
Shit. “Aleria…”
She jerks back, nearly toppling her chair. “I... I think I left some important data in the lab,” she blurts out, already halfway to the door. “I’ll be right back.”
As the door slams shut, the sound reverberates through the room, pronouncing judgment on my utter lack of professionalism. I slump back in my chair, running both hands through my hair, gripping it as if I could physically pull some sense into my head.
What am I doing?
The question echoes in my mind, a relentless loop of self-recrimination. I’m Liam Valeur, for God’s sake. CEO. The man who can negotiate multi-billion dollar deals without breaking a sweat. And here I am, coming undone over a simple touch.
I straighten up, adjusting my tie and smoothing my hair. I’ll be the picture of professional composure. I have to be. Her hasty exit made it clear she’s not interested, and I need to respect that.
Aleria returns, her cheeks flushed. She takes her seat beside me, smoothing her lab coat.
“Dr. James,” I say, my voice deliberately neutral, “I think we should refine this presentation. Something seems not quite right.”
Aleria looks surprised. “Oh? I thought you were satisfied with it.”
“It’s good,” I assure her, “but it could be great. Shall we?”
