Chapter 7: A Masterpiece Unveiled
Amara Kingsley stepped back, her gaze fixed on the finished painting.
It was breathtaking.
A storm of colors, shadows, and hidden meanings.
It told a story—her story.
A tale of betrayal, rebirth, and vengeance.
Every brushstroke carried her pain and resolve, every color whispered of her return to the game.
Liam Hargrove had commissioned a masterpiece.
She had given him a prophecy.
Her phone vibrated.
Liam: I'll be at your studio in an hour.
She smirked. Right on time.
As she waited for Liam, Claire stepped into the room.
"You have a visitor."
Amara frowned. "Liam's early?"
"Nope." Claire's lips curved. "It's someone new."
Curious, Amara stepped into the front of her studio—and froze.
Standing there, effortlessly charming in a designer suit, was Elias Sinclair.
A name she hadn't thought about in years.
A name that once meant everything.
"Amara." His deep voice was smooth, familiar. "It's been a while."
She crossed her arms. "Elias Sinclair. To what do I owe this surprise?"
He grinned. "Come on, is that how you greet an old friend?"
She arched a brow. "Old friend? You mean the man who vanished without a trace?"
His grin faltered for half a second. "That's… complicated."
"Isn't it always?"
Elias was once her greatest ally. A business prodigy, an art collector, and someone she had once trusted.
Until he disappeared without a word.
And now?
Now, he was standing in her studio on the same day Liam Hargrove was coming.
Coincidence?
She doubted it.
"Let's grab a drink sometime and catch up," Elias offered.
Before she could respond, the door opened
And in walked Liam Hargrove.
The air tensed instantly.
Liam's eyes flicked to Elias. "You're in my way."
Elias smirked. "And you must be Liam Hargrove."
Liam's jaw tightened. "I don't recall asking for an introduction."
Elias smirked. "Funny. Neither did I."
Amara watched the silent clash of two powerful men unfold before her.
Interesting.
"Elias was just leaving," she finally said.
Elias glanced at her, something unreadable in his gaze, before stepping back.
"Until next time, Amara."
As he walked past Liam, he added, "Try not to break anything, Hargrove."
Liam barely spared him a glance.
The moment the door shut, he turned to her.
"Who is he?"
Amara smirked. "Jealous?"
Liam's eyes darkened. "I don't get jealous."
"Right," she teased. "And I'm the Queen of England."
His gaze flickered with amusement. "You're infuriating."
She grinned. "I try."
The Unveiling
Liam strode into the studio, eyes scanning the space before settling on the painting.
For the first time, Amara saw something in his expression that wasn't calculated arrogance.
Something raw.
Something vulnerable.
He stepped closer, his fingers grazing the edge of the frame.
"This is…" His voice trailed off.
"Everything you asked for," she finished.
His jaw clenched. "It's more than that."
She tilted her head. "Surprised?"
His gaze snapped to hers. "You knew exactly what you were doing."
She met his stare, unwavering. "Always."
Liam exhaled slowly.
Then, to her shock, he laughed.
A low, deep chuckle.
"You're dangerous, Amara."
She smiled, slow and knowing. "You have no idea."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The tension was electric, charged with something neither of them wanted to name.
Liam stepped closer.
Too close.
"Dinner," he said suddenly.
Amara arched a brow. "Excuse me?"
He smirked. "You've completed my commission. Let me return the favor."
She crossed her arms. "Is this business or pleasure?"
Liam leaned in, his voice dropping. "Whichever gets you to say yes."
Her heart pounded.
She knew what was happening.
Liam Hargrove was falling for her.
But this wasn't love.
This was a war.
And she would make him bleed.
She smiled.
"Fine. Dinner it is."
As he walked away, she whispered under her breath.
"Checkmate."