Playing with Fire

Amelia had never been one to second-guess herself.

But that was before Liam Blackthorne stepped into her life.

Now, every decision felt like it carried the weight of a thousand invisible strings—strings he might be pulling without her even noticing.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she stared at the email draft on her screen. It was a simple request to IT—an inquiry about access logs related to a particular project folder. One Liam had told her not to touch.

Just a routine security check, she would say if anyone asked.

But deep down, she knew this wasn't routine.

It was a test.

A small one. Harmless, even. She only wanted to see how quickly Liam would react—if he'd even notice. Or if he already knew that she was beginning to doubt him.

Her finger pressed "send."

And just like that, the game had changed.

The hours passed slowly. Too slowly.

She stayed at her desk well past sunset, pretending to catch up on reports. In reality, she was watching her inbox like a hawk. Waiting. Wondering.

It was nearly eight when her phone buzzed.

Unknown number: "Still at the office?"

Her breath caught.

She didn't need to ask who it was.

Liam.

She typed quickly: Yes.

A moment later, the elevator across the hallway dinged.

She turned just in time to see him step out, black coat draped over one arm, his tie loosened just enough to make him look dangerously relaxed.

He didn't walk—he prowled. Like he owned the floor. The building. The air she breathed.

He stopped at her desk, eyes scanning the mostly empty office before resting on her.

"You should go home," he said, voice low.

She forced a smile. "I could say the same to you."

He tilted his head. "Something keeping you here?"

Amelia hesitated for half a second too long.

"I wanted to finish the quarterly reports," she lied smoothly. "I'm behind."

He stepped closer, resting his hand casually on the edge of her desk.

There was a pause—tense and intimate.

"Funny," he said quietly. "I thought you'd be more interested in the due diligence files on Radmore Holdings."

Her pulse skipped.

That was the folder she'd accessed.

She schooled her features. "I didn't know I had clearance."

"You don't."

Their eyes locked.

He didn't raise his voice. He didn't accuse her outright. But she felt the tension coil in the air like a trap.

"I thought it was part of the upcoming merger project," she said evenly. "I wasn't aware it was off-limits."

He didn't blink. "Curiosity can be dangerous."

"So can secrecy," she snapped back, sharper than intended.

For a moment, they just stared at each other.

Then he smiled. Not cold—not quite. But knowing.

"I like that you're bold, Amelia," he said. "But don't poke sleeping dragons unless you're ready for the fire."

She felt her cheeks heat—not from embarrassment, but from something else. Anger. Adrenaline. A strange, electric thrill.

And beneath all of that—desire.

God, why did he affect her like this?

Why did his nearness short-circuit her common sense?

"I'm not afraid of dragons," she said, softer now.

He stepped closer.

"Good," he murmured. "Because I'm not the only one with secrets."

Her breath caught again.

But before she could respond, he turned and walked away, disappearing back into the elevator with a parting glance that burned through her skin.

That night, Amelia couldn't sleep.

She paced her apartment, replaying every word, every expression, every flicker of something dangerous in Liam's eyes.

He knew she was digging.

He let her.

He wanted her to know that he was watching—but not stopping her.

Which made her wonder: was this all part of his game?

Or had she just begun playing one of her own?

The next morning, the air between them had shifted.

Liam passed her in the hallway with a nod that could have meant anything. A silent warning. A dare.

She refused to back down.

Throughout the day, she kept her head down, but her mind was elsewhere—on what he'd said the night before.

You're not the only one with secrets.

What did he know?

Was he bluffing?

Or did he already know everything?

By noon, she was called into a last-minute strategy meeting with Liam and a few other senior staff. It was supposed to be a dry presentation on corporate restructuring.

But halfway through, while one of the executives droned on, Liam suddenly said, "Amelia, what's your take?"

She blinked.

All eyes turned to her.

He hadn't warned her. Hadn't given her any prep. And yet—

She straightened. "I think the projected figures are optimistic," she said calmly. "We're assuming a best-case market scenario when we should be preparing for potential backlash, especially with the Radmore acquisition."

There was a pause. A few raised brows.

Then one of the VPs nodded. "She has a point."

Liam didn't smile.

But he leaned back in his chair and said, "Noted."

After the meeting, she followed him into his office without waiting to be asked.

"You set me up," she said the moment the door closed.

He turned slowly, amusement in his eyes. "Did I?"

"I could've looked like an idiot."

"But you didn't."

She stared at him, trying to decipher the man behind the mask.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked finally. "What do you want from me?"

For a moment, Liam didn't answer.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "I want to know what you'll become when you stop letting fear guide you."

The room went still.

Amelia's heart pounded so loud she could hear it in her ears.

"That's not an answer," she whispered.

"It's the only one I'm willing to give."

He moved closer. Not touching her, but near enough that she could feel the heat of him. The danger. The temptation.

She should have stepped back.

She didn't.

His gaze dropped to her lips for the briefest second—and she hated that her breath hitched.

She hated that she wanted him.

But God help her, she did.

Then, just like that, he pulled away.

Back to safety.

Back to control.

"I'll see you at the board dinner tonight," he said.

And then he was gone.

That evening, Amelia stood in front of her closet, unsure what to wear.

It wasn't a date. It wasn't even personal.

But somehow, it felt personal.

She settled on a deep emerald-green dress—conservative enough for a business event, but with a neckline that hinted at rebellion.

When she walked into the venue, Liam's gaze found her instantly.

He was surrounded by power players in sharp suits and colder smiles.

But when he looked at her, his expression shifted—just enough to tell her he noticed.

Just enough to make her heart skip again.

She walked toward him slowly, head held high.

If he wanted a game, she would give him one.

But he wasn't the only one holding cards anymore.