Chapter 11 – Two Kings, One Queen

Mia stood in the quiet corridor, heart still tangled in Liam's words, when the clink of approaching footsteps made her spine stiffen again.

"That was quite the conversation," Ethan said smoothly as he appeared from the shadows, his smirk back in place.

Her head turned sharply. "Were you eavesdropping now?"

"You were never one for subtlety, Mia. Why should I be?"

She gave him a hard look, but he held his ground.

"You always did like to follow me," she said icily.

"And you always liked being chased."

He stepped closer, his cologne sweeping over her like smoke—dark, expensive, intoxicating. "You don't really think Bennett gets you the way I do, do you?"

She laughed, the sound brittle. "You never got me, Ethan. You only knew how to mold me."

"I knew how to challenge you. That fire in you—I fed it. Liam? He'll try to tame it."

Her eyes narrowed. "You don't know Liam."

"Maybe not. But I know men like him. Polished. Perfect. The kind who play by the rules. You never wanted that, Mia. You want passion. You want power. You want someone who makes your blood sing."

Ethan reached out, brushing his fingers down her arm. "I made it sing once."

She flinched, but he caught her wrist gently, not forcefully—just enough to let the memory slide between them.

"You're toxic," she whispered. "Like champagne laced with cyanide."

"But you still remember the taste."

"I remember the aftermath."

"You think Liam will still want you when he learns the real things you've done? The mistakes you made? I already know. I liked it."

Her pulse quickened with fury. But before she could speak, a sharp voice broke through the heavy silence.

"Let her go."

Ethan's eyes narrowed as he turned—and there stood Liam, his expression dark, dangerous, nothing like the calm CEO mask he wore in public.

Mia pulled her arm away, straightening. "Liam—"

"You okay?" he asked, gaze locked on Ethan.

"I'm fine," she said, but Liam didn't look at her. He was all ice now, leveled squarely at Ethan.

"You must be Bennett," Ethan said with a thin smile. "We were just catching up."

"You don't 'catch up' by cornering someone in a hallway," Liam said, stepping forward. The space between them crackled.

Ethan chuckled, lazy and taunting. "Relax, man. We go way back. Don't be threatened."

Liam's jaw clenched. "I'm not."

But his eyes told a different story. They flicked to Mia, lingering just a second too long. Were you okay with him touching you? Did you want that?

Mia, always a little too sharp for her own good, caught the flicker. She stepped between them, not touching either man.

"This is ridiculous."

"Mia, he's not good for you," Liam said, voice low. "He never was."

"And you are?" Ethan fired back. "Because what—your name's on Forbes and your suits are tailored?"

Liam didn't rise to the bait, but something in his stillness was more threatening than shouting.

Mia turned on Ethan. "You need to go."

His brows lifted. "That's it? You're choosing him?"

"I'm choosing me," she snapped. "And I choose not to have this fight like I'm some prize at the end of a pissing contest."

Ethan gave a slow, mocking clap. "Well done. Empowerment looks good on you, babe."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't call me babe."

Liam stepped forward again, and Mia pressed a hand to his chest. "Don't. He's not worth it."

For a beat, Liam looked at her like he wanted to say everything. But he didn't.

Instead, he stepped back, breathing hard.

Ethan straightened his jacket with flair. "You'll come back, Mia. When you're tired of fairy tales. When you miss the fire."

She didn't answer. She didn't have to.

As he walked away, his heels echoing into the hallway like the closing of a chapter, she stood silent for a long time.

Then Liam said quietly, "Does he always talk to you like that?"

"Only when he wants something he can't have."

Liam looked at her. Really looked.

"You okay?"

She nodded, but something in her eyes was distant. Haunted.

"Let me get you out of here," he said suddenly. "Somewhere quiet. Somewhere that isn't… this."

She hesitated. "You're not jealous, are you?"

He gave her a look. "Of him? No."

"Of what we had?"

His voice was even. "Of the way he once made you feel? Yeah. A little."

There was a moment—brief, breathless—where she almost said yes.

Then someone from the PR team called Liam again, breaking the spell.

"Go," she whispered. "I need air anyway."

Liam touched her hand lightly, then left, glancing over his shoulder once.

Mia turned away, walking toward the garden exit. Alone again.

But not untouched.

Never untouched.

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