I just stood there. Honestly, I think I forgot how to breathe for a second. The sound of that door closing was so final, like a lid snapping shut on a box.
What did I just do?
I looked around the room, and for the first time, it didn't look like a fancy hotel. It looked like a trap. A very, very expensive trap. I'm an adult, I've been around guys before, but this is different.
This isn't a date where I can just call an Uber and go home if things get weird. I live here now.
And I live here with him.
Liam. He's not just my boss; he's... well, he's Liam. He's young, he's got more money than sense, and he's so good-looking it actually makes me angry. And now we're alone. In this massive house. Just the two of us.
My stomach did a weird little flip, and it wasn't just because I was nervous. It was that "oh my god" feeling you get when you realize you've made a choice you can't take back. I signed a contract.
I basically sold my life to a man who probably doesn't even know how to cook an egg but can ruin someone's career with a single phone call.
"Get it together, Lia," I whispered. My voice sounded tiny in the huge living room.
I started pacing, my heels clicking on the marble. Is he watching me right now? Is there a camera?* I felt so exposed. All this glass, all this open space. It's supposed to be luxury, but it felt like I was a specimen in a lab.
What if I run into him in the middle of the night? What if I'm just wearing a t-shirt and no makeup and he's just... there?
I looked at the clock. The fifteen minutes were disappearing fast. I needed to move, but my legs felt like lead. It's one thing to see a guy like that in an office, but living with him? Seeing him eat breakfast? Seeing him when he's actually tired?
It felt way too intimate. It felt dangerous. Not "call the police" dangerous, but the kind of dangerous that messes with your head.
I forced myself to move toward the bedroom. I had to change. I had to look like a professional analyst, not a girl who was currently having a mental breakdown because her boss is hot and she's officially his "24/7" employee.
I opened the wardrobe and saw the clothes he'd picked out. They weren't just professional; they were perfect.
Like he already knew my size, my style, everything. It made my skin crawl a little, but at the same time, I couldn't stop myself from touching the fabric.
"It's just a job," I lied to myself.
I started unbuttoning my shirt, my hands shaking so much I almost ripped the fabric. I wasn't just changing my clothes; I was trying to change my mindset. But no matter how hard I tried to be "Professional Lia," all I could think about was the fact that Liam was just a few walls away, probably waiting for me to trip up.
I really, really hope I know what I'm doing.
I took a final look in the mirror. I looked like a version of myself I didn't recognize, sleek, expensive, and terrified. I grabbed the leather bag, checked my phone for the twentieth time, and headed for the door.
I took a deep breath, counted to three, and pulled the handle.
I almost walked straight into his chest.
I gasped, my bag slipping down my arm. Liam was standing right there in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He wasn't even looking at his watch, but the way he tilted his head told me he knew exactly how many seconds I had left.
"You're late by forty-five seconds," he said. His voice was quiet, but it filled the narrow space between us.
"I... the buttons were small," I stammered, then immediately hated myself for giving him an excuse. I straightened my shoulders. "And I'm not late. You said fifteen minutes. I'm within the margin of error."
Liam didn't move. He just looked at me. Not the way a boss looks at a spreadsheet, but the way a person looks at something they've finally caught. It made my heart do that annoying, frantic thud again. He looked so relaxed, while I felt like I was vibrating at a frequency only dogs could hear.
"In this house, Lia, there is no margin of error," he murmured. He stood up straight, and suddenly the hallway felt very, very small. "But the skirt fits. I suppose that's a start."
I felt the heat rush to my face. "You shouldn't have bought these. I have my own clothes."
"Your clothes are for a student, not a Risk Analyst for Vane Industries," he said, turning on his heel and walking toward the elevator. "And since you're currently on my time, you wear what I tell you to wear. Is that a problem?"
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to tell him that he couldn't just buy me and dress me like a doll. But then I remembered the contract. I remembered the apartment. I remembered the way my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest just because he was standing three inches away from me.
"No," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "No problem."
"Good," he said, the elevator doors sliding open with a soft chime. "Then let's go. We have a lot to cover, and I don't like to be kept waiting twice."
I followed him into the elevator, the doors closing us into a tiny, mirrored box. I could see our reflections, him, tall and perfectly calm, and me, clutching my bag like it was a life raft. We didn't speak as the elevator descended. The silence was thick, charged with the kind of tension that made the air feel heavy.
I kept staring at the floor, trying not to look at him in the mirrors. But I could feel his gaze on me. It wasn't a professional look. It was something else. Something that made me realize that living with Liam Vane wasn't just going to be a job. It was going to be a battle.
And as the doors opened to the lobby, I realized I was already losing.
The SUV smelled like brand-new leather and Liam's cologne, which was a dangerous combination for my nerves. I sat as far as I could to the left, practically pressing my shoulder against the door handle, while Liam sat on the right, already back on his phone.
The driver pulled away from the curb so smoothly I barely felt it. For a few minutes, nobody said a word. I just watched the streetlights of London blur past the tinted glass, feeling like I was being kidnapped in the most luxurious way possible.
"We should get the ground rules out of the way now," Liam said, not looking up from his screen. "Before the work starts."
I turned my head. "I thought the contract was the rules."
"The contract is the legal side. This," he gestured between us, "is the practical side. You're living in my home, Lia. That requires a certain... understanding."
I gripped my bag. "Okay. Let's hear it. Am I allowed to use the kitchen, or is that off-limits too?"
He actually looked at me then, a small, dry smile tugging at his lips. "You can use the kitchen. I'm not going to starve you. In fact, I'd prefer it if you actually ate something decent. I noticed your 'diet' in the dorms consisted mostly of instant noodles and caffeine. My chef stocks the fridge every Monday. Eat whatever you want, as long as it's healthy. I need your brain sharp, not crashing from a sugar low."
I rolled my eyes, feeling a bit of my old spark come back. "Wow, thanks, Mom. Anything else?"
Liam's expression didn't change, but his eyes darkened slightly. "Weekends. You're allowed to see your friends. I'm not a jailer, despite what you might think. You can go out, visit your dorm, whatever you need to do to feel... human."
I felt a massive wave of relief hit me. "Oh. Okay. That's actually... reasonable."
"But," he added, and there it was. The catch. "No guests. Not yet. My security protocols are strict, and I don't want people I haven't vetted wandering around my living room. If you want to see them, you go to them. And you keep your phone on. Always."
"24/7," I muttered. "I remember."
"Exactly. If I call at 3:00 AM on a Sunday because a market in Tokyo is collapsing and I need a risk assessment, you answer. You don't 'miss' the call because you're out for drinks."
I looked out the window, trying to process it. It was a weird mix of freedom and total control. I could go see Sarah and Mia, but I'd basically be on a leash the whole time.
"What about my space?" I asked quietly. "My room. You said the code is the last four digits of my social. Does that mean you have the master code?"
Liam turned toward me fully now, shifting his weight so his knee was almost touching mine. The space in the car suddenly felt a lot smaller. "Lia, I own the building. I have the code to every door."
My heart did that annoying skip again. "So you're saying you can just walk in whenever you want?"
"I'm saying I could," he clarified, his voice dropping to that low, smooth tone that made my skin tingle. "But I won't.
Unless it's an emergency. I value my privacy as much as you value yours.
Just stay out of my private office and the gym when I'm using it, and we won't have a problem."
"The gym," I repeated, trying to picture him working out. The image was way too vivid. "Right. Got it. No gym. No office. No sugar."
"And no attitude," he added, though he sounded almost amused. "At least, not when we're in front of clients."
I looked away, my face feeling hot. It was so confusing. One second he was being a cold, controlling boss, and the next he was making me feel like we were just... two people. Two people who happened to be sharing a very expensive life.
I watched his reflection in the window as he went back to his tablet. He looked so calm, so in control. Meanwhile, I was sitting there wondering if I'd ever be able to sleep normally again knowing he was just one "master code" away from my bed.
"Where are we going, anyway?" I asked, trying to change the subject before my thoughts got too weird.
"To the belly of the beast," he said, his eyes reflecting the blue light of the screen. "We're going to the Vane Data Hub. I want to see if that 'human' intuition you're so proud of can actually spot a predator before it bites."