Chapter Seven

Liam

The weight of the freshly turned earth felt heavy on my chest, mirroring the oppressive silence that had settled over the backyard. My mother, eyes red-rimmed and shoulders slumped, sat beside me, a stark contrast to Anna who was already buzzing with nervous energy amidst the sadness etched on her face.

A figure emerged from the throng of mourners – Elliott Mason, a slim, gray-haired man with a steely gaze and an air of entitlement that scraped at my already frayed nerves. He ambled towards us, his posture suggesting he owned the very ground beneath his feet.

"Liam, Diane and Anna," he said, offering a curt nod of condolence, "my deepest sympathies for your loss. Logan was a titan of industry, a true visionary. We don't see many like him anymore." Despite the hollow words, a glint in his eyes held a hint of something else – maybe respect, maybe something more sinister.

"Thank you, Elliott ," my mother replied, her voice tight. "It's a difficult day."

He offered a tight smile. "Indeed. Apologies for my lateness. An unexpected development came up, but luckily, it's all sorted now."

As Elliott prepared to move on, a flicker of opportunity sparked in my mind. "Mr. Mason," I interjected, "there is a matter I'd like to discuss with you regarding a pending issue. Perhaps you could spare a moment?"

He regarded me with a knowing look, as if reading my mind. "Ah, yes," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "The 'pending issue,' wouldn't you say? Very well. Let's discuss it over breakfast tomorrow morning. On my yacht, of course."

My stomach clenched. A yacht meeting felt more like a scene from a corporate thriller than a time to discuss business. Still, I could hardly refuse. "Very well, Mr. Mason," I agreed, my voice betraying none of the apprehension churning within me.

Vanessa caught my eye, on her way to the guest bathroom we use when we are hosting many guests. My heart hammered against my ribs. A desperate urge to follow her, to steal a moment away from the suffocating atmosphere and the weight of the conversation to come, warred with the need to address Elliott .

Before I could take a step, Anna materialized at my side, blocking my path. "Liam ! You have been avoiding me all day," she exclaimed, her voice laced with a desperate edge. "We need to talk. Now."

Frustration bubbled up. "Anna," I said through gritted teeth, "I know we do, I need to know how you got out of rehab, but it can't be now. Let's talk when everyone has gone."

She opened her mouth to protest, but I saw my chance. With a murmured apology, I slipped past her, propelled by the need to speak with Vanessa, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

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The bathroom door swung shut behind me, and I didn't even have to wait. Barely a moment later, the stall creaked open, revealing Vanessa. Our eyes locked, a spark igniting in the sterile air. Then, just as quickly, she looked away, heading for the sink with a determined gait. Her attempt at indifference was as transparent as the soap dispenser.

"Hey," I blurted out before I could overthink it, "didn't expect to see you here."

She finally turned, her gaze guarded. "Neither did I," she said coolly. "Never thought I'd see you again, actually."

My stomach twisted. "Really? Was it that bad? Did I do something to hurt you?"

A small smile played on her lips, fleeting and bittersweet. "No, Liam," she said, her voice a low murmur. "You didn't hurt me. And the sex? It was… well, above average."

A sliver of relief coursed through me, quickly replaced by a dull ache. "Then why did you disappear before dawn? You left no notes, no phone number…"

"We had a one-night stand, Liam," Vanessa cut in, her voice firm. "That's why I didn't expect to see you again. And looking back, maybe it was a good call."

"Because I'm married?" I finished her sentence, a heavy weight settling in my chest.

"Exactly," she shot back.

"And you have a boyfriend," I countered, a hint of defensiveness creeping into my tone.

"It isn't the same thing," she retorted, her eyes flashing with a sudden fire. "Were you married the night we hooked up? Because that night, I wasn't in a relationship. Me and Richard were on a break..sort of."

I opened my mouth to explain, to confess the complexities of my marriage, but she cut me off with a sharp gesture.

"There is no need to explain to me," Vanessa said, her voice laced with a hurt I couldn't decipher. "You are married and I am in a relationship. Let's just pretend that night never happened."

The air crackled with unspoken words. Did she really want that? Did she want me to erase the memory of the connection we shared, the way our bodies fit together like missing puzzle pieces?

"Is that what you truly want?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "To forget about you and the way you make me feel?"

Her eyes flickered with uncertainty. "Yes," she said hesitantly, a tremor in her voice betraying her words.

"Well, I don't believe you," I murmured, closing the distance between us. "I've been wanting to be close to you ever since we started talking, and now…" My voice trailed off as I leaned in further, I closed the distance between us, drawn by a force stronger than logic. We were mere inches apart, our breaths mingling. Her lips were a tempting invitation, and I dared to lean in further.

To my surprise, she didn't pull away. Instead, for a single, electrifying moment, our lips met. It was a brief brush, a taste of something forbidden and exhilarating. Then, reality slammed back, and she recoiled as if burned.

"This can't happen," she whispered, her voice choking with emotion.

And with that, she fled the bathroom, leaving me reeling in the aftermath of our stolen moment. The sterile scent of soap did little to mask the lingering heat of our encounter.

Stepping out of the bathroom a few minutes later, a thick silence greeted me. The metallic tang of disinfectant lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions I felt inside. I expected the sterile whiteness to make me feel detached, but instead, it amplified the pounding of my heart against my ribs.

Then, a prickle of awareness ran down my spine. An unsettling feeling, like an unseen gaze burning into my back. I scanned the deserted hallway, the gleaming tile reflecting my own distorted image. Nothing. Perhaps it was just the heightened state of my nerves, the guilt gnawing at me over Vanessa's words. Yet, the feeling wouldn't shake.

Was it just the raw emotions of the encounter playing tricks on my mind? Or had someone witnessed our stolen moment, overheard the raw confession that tumbled from Vanessa's lips and mine?

No one can know about me and Vanessa, at least not now, until I am able to buy out Elliott from the company's board.