***
Author's Note:
Fair warning: there's a lot of borderline teasing in this chapter, but I promise nothing actually happens. After all, this isn't an R18-tagged novel.
***
His heart thumped in his chest.
Instinctively, he raised his guard and scanned the room quietly.
That's when he noticed it—a shadow flicking in the corner of his eye.
'An assassin? That can't be right. I'm at Kingsfield.'
His mind raced.
'A thief?' he considered.
'But I've got no valuabl—'
The thought of the ring jolted him.
He braced for combat.
Fatigue weighed him down,
yet adrenaline surged through him, sharpening every sense as the shadow closed in on him.
"Whoa…"
said the shadow in a female voice.
"You look like you're about to fight someone."
The voice was familiar,
but the tension that had gripped him since stepping into the room didn't ease.
Click!
Light flooded the room.
He adjusted his eyes to the sudden light,
and before him came the view of a stunning tall girl clad in black leather trousers and boots, a plain black tank top hugging her frame.
He recognized her instantly.
"So…" she said, a playful smile curling her lips.
"Are you going to offer me a drink, or just keep staring?"
Liam stood frozen, mouth agape.
"I… Isabella?"
***
Liam stood staring at Isabella for a few more seconds in awkward silence before he finally gathered himself.
After that, he deliberately took up to eleven minutes making tea in his kitchen, using the time to plan his next course of action,
because although he recognized the home invader, it didn't change a thing at all.
Fear still remained in his body, not of his but of the body he now harboured.
It baffled him.
Because as far as he could tell, the original Liam had no reason to fear her.
Sure, she was intimidating and had no concept of boundaries—
but that wasn't enough to cause such a nervous breakdown.
Liam exhaled sharply.
"I need to calm down…" he murmured, taking in deep, calming breaths.
"It's not a monster…"
"Just a girl in my room…"
"How did she even get in?"
Liam puzzled
This was Kingsfield—famed for its security.
And yet a girl, barely thirteen or fourteen, had just waltzed in and trashed the place.
He scoffed.
"Some top-notch security."
He didn't get her taste in tea.
Frankly, she didn't even look like someone who drank tea.
He would have pegged her as a hot cocoa—or coffee—kind of girl.
He only had black coffee in the house because of her.
Yuck.
He made a face.
Personally, he preferred chamomile with honey or rose tea.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I come here often," Isabella replied nonchalantly.
Liam facepalmed.
"I meant why are you here?"
She smiled.
"To see my boyfriend, obviously."
Liam groaned.
One of the first things he'd tried to do after accepting his situation
was break up with Isabella.
But he'd failed because she hadn't been on campus,
and he could never get hold of her.
The whole thing frustrated him.
He didn't need a relationship complicating his plans for the future.
"Look, I've been thinking an—"
"You've changed."
She cut him off, standing and slowly sauntering toward him.
"You used to be adorable," she said, her fingers brushing his.
"Like a kitten."
Liam frowned.
"Now you're grumpy. And sassy… with all your questions."
She pouted in mock sadness.
"I mean, you're still a cat… just older."
Liam grunted.
Her hands cupped his face, her eyes scanning him, drinking him in.
"And hotter," she added, her gaze filled with longing.
Liam removed her hands from his face and tried pushing her away, but she was stronger than him.
She caught his arms and traced her delicate fingers up toward his chest,
softly, deliberately.
"And more muscular," she whispered, her voice low and sultry.
"Isabella. Stop."
His tone was flat.
She giggled, wrapped her arms around him from behind,
and pressed her lips close to his ear.
"And taller," she teased.
"I wonder…"
Her hands slid lower.
"…if that's the only thing that got bigger."
Her voice wavered slightly with heat.
Her breath tickled his ear.
"And here I thought you weren't happy to see me."
Her grin widened.
***
When Liam woke up hours later, after finally managing to get Isabella off of him,
he felt refreshed; all the exhaustion that had been crushing him was gone.
He looked around the room and noticed Isabella still hadn't left yet.
She sat there, by his study desk,
still watching him with that unreadable expression.
He'd tried to get her to leave earlier, but she hadn't budged—
and, at the time, sleep had won over stubbornness.
She smiled faintly at him, though there was a trace of worry in her eyes.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low.
For a moment, she was still—silent.
Then she finally spoke.
"I'm breaking up with you."
The words echoed between them within the silent room.