Chapter 4: An Unwanted Visitor

The next morning arrived with the weight of unspoken promises and the lingering memory of Chloe's touch. Liam sat in his office, ostensibly reviewing the Morrison account, but his mind kept drifting to the way she'd looked at him before leaving—vulnerable beneath her confidence, real in a way that had shaken him to his core.

When she walked past his office at nine-fifteen, coffee in hand, she offered him a small smile that held secrets and something deeper. Something that made his chest tighten with an emotion he wasn't ready to name.

He was beginning to understand that what they'd started went far beyond physical attraction or playful debt collection. She was getting under his skin in ways that terrified him.

---

The morning passed in relative normalcy—emails, client calls, the usual rhythm of corporate life. But at eleven-thirty, everything changed.

Chloe's phone rang, and he could hear her answer through their shared wall.

"Hello?" Her voice was bright, professional.

Then it changed.

"Mark, I'm at work." The warmth drained from her tone, replaced by something carefully controlled. "No, I can't talk right now."

Liam found himself leaning closer to the wall, shameless in his eavesdropping.

"I said I can't—" A pause. "That's not... no, that's not what I said last night."

Her voice dropped to an urgent whisper, and he could hear the tension even through the wall. Whatever conversation she was having, it wasn't going well.

"Don't you dare." The words were sharp, barely audible. "Don't you dare show up here unannounced. I'm working."

Another pause, longer this time.

"Mark, please. We'll talk tonight. I promise, but not—" Her voice cracked slightly. "Fine. Fine, whatever. Just... give me ten minutes to finish this project."

The phone slammed down with enough force that he heard it clearly.

Liam stared at the wall separating their offices, every protective instinct he possessed roaring to life. The distress in her voice had been unmistakable, and the fact that she was trying to hide it only made it worse.

Without thinking, he stood and walked to her office. Through the glass wall, he could see her sitting at her desk, her head in her hands, shoulders tense with barely contained emotion.

He knocked softly.

"Come in," she said without looking up.

"Everything okay?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

She lifted her head, and he could see the careful mask she was trying to construct. "Fine. Just... boyfriend drama."

The word 'boyfriend' hit him like a physical blow, but not for the reasons he expected. It wasn't jealousy that consumed him—it was anger at whatever had put that haunted look in her eyes.

"Want to talk about it?"

She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Not particularly. It's just..." She trailed off, then seemed to make a decision. "He's coming here. To the office. Says he wants to 'surprise' me with lunch."

"That doesn't sound like something you want."

"It's not." Her fingers twisted together in her lap. "He's been... different lately. More controlling. More possessive. Last night when I got home late, he..." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

But it did matter. It mattered more than Liam wanted to admit.

"Chloe." He moved closer, perching on the edge of her desk. "Are you safe?"

The question seemed to surprise her. "Safe? He's not... he doesn't hit me or anything. He's just..." She struggled for words. "Suffocating. Everything has to be about him, on his terms. I can't breathe anymore."

The raw honesty in her voice made something fierce and protective rise in his chest. This was the vulnerability he'd glimpsed the night before, the real woman beneath the confident facade.

"You don't have to see him," he said quietly. "I can have security—"

"No." She shook her head quickly. "That would just make things worse. I'll handle it."

Before he could respond, her phone buzzed with a text. She glanced at it and went pale.

"He's here," she whispered. "He's in the lobby."

---

Mark Sanders was exactly what Liam had expected and nothing like he'd imagined. Average height, perfectly styled brown hair, expensive suit that screamed investment banker. Handsome in a conventional way, but there was something in his eyes—a coldness that made Liam's skin crawl.

"Baby!" Mark's voice boomed across the office as he approached Chloe's cubicle, carrying an elaborate bouquet of roses. "Surprise!"

Every head in the vicinity turned to watch the show. Chloe stood slowly, her smile brittle around the edges.

"Mark. This is... unexpected."

"I know you said you were busy, but I thought, why not bring lunch to my beautiful girlfriend?" He leaned in to kiss her, and Liam watched her stiffen almost imperceptibly.

"That's very sweet," she said, stepping back slightly. "But I really do have a lot of work—"

"Nonsense. You work too hard." Mark's tone was jovial, but there was an undertone that made Liam's jaw clench. "Besides, I want to meet your colleagues. Make sure they're treating my girl right."

His eyes swept the office, cataloging faces, marking territory. When his gaze landed on Liam, standing in his office doorway, something sharp and assessing flickered across his features.

"And who's this?" Mark asked, his arm sliding possessively around Chloe's waist.

"Mark, this is Liam Vance, my supervisor," Chloe said, her voice carefully neutral. "Liam, this is Mark Sanders, my boyfriend."

The word 'boyfriend' fell between them like a gauntlet thrown down. Mark stepped forward, extending his hand with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"The famous Liam Vance," he said as they shook hands. "Chloe talks about you constantly. All work, of course."

"She's very dedicated," Liam replied evenly, but his grip was firm enough to make a point.

"Oh, I know. Sometimes I think she's more dedicated to this place than she is to me." Mark's laugh was forced, but his eyes never left Liam's face. "But that's going to change soon, isn't it, baby?"

Chloe went very still. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we've been talking about moving in together. Really making a commitment. I think it's time you had some... balance in your life. Less work, more us."

The possessiveness in his tone made Liam's hands clench into fists. This wasn't about love or concern—this was about control. About owning her.

"I never agreed to—" Chloe started.

"We'll discuss it over lunch," Mark interrupted smoothly. "Somewhere private where we can really talk."

The implicit threat in his words was unmistakable. Liam took a step closer, his body language shifting into something more protective.

"Actually," he said, his voice carrying the authority that had earned him respect throughout the firm, "Chloe and I have a client call at one. The Henderson account. I'm afraid lunch will have to wait."

It was a lie, but a smooth one. Mark's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Surely that can be rescheduled. This is important."

"I'm afraid not. The client specifically requested this time slot." Liam's tone brooked no argument. "Perhaps dinner would work better?"

The tension in the air was palpable. Other employees were starting to notice, conversations trailing off as they sensed the undercurrent of conflict.

Mark's smile became razor-sharp. "Of course. Business first, isn't that right, Chloe?"

She nodded mutely, caught between them like a deer in headlights.

"I'll see you tonight then," Mark said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. His lips lingered longer than necessary, his eyes never leaving Liam's face. "We have so much to... discuss."

He handed her the roses—red as blood, thorny as his personality—and headed for the elevator, but not before turning back one last time.

"Nice meeting you, Liam. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other."

The elevator doors closed with a soft chime, but the threat hung in the air long after he was gone.

---

Chloe sank into her chair like a marionette with cut strings. The roses lay forgotten on her desk, their cloying scent filling the small space.

"Chloe." Liam's voice was gentle, but she could hear the carefully controlled anger underneath.

"Don't," she whispered. "Please don't say anything right now."

But he couldn't stay silent. Not after what he'd just witnessed.

"He's manipulating you. The flowers, the public display, the threats disguised as concern—"

"You think I don't know that?" Her voice cracked, and when she looked up, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "You think I don't see exactly what he's doing?"

"Then why—"

"Because it's complicated!" The words burst out of her, raw and desperate. "Because I've been with him for two years, and everyone thinks we're perfect, and he makes me feel like I'm crazy for wanting something different. Something... more."

The word hung between them, loaded with meaning.

"You deserve more," he said quietly.

She laughed, but it was broken around the edges. "Do I? Because sometimes I think this is all I'm worth. Someone who sees me as a possession instead of a person."

The pain in her voice made something crack open in his chest. He moved closer, crouching beside her chair.

"Look at me," he said softly.

She did, and he saw everything—the fear, the longing, the desperate hope she was trying to hide.

"You are not a possession," he said, his voice fierce with conviction. "You are brilliant and beautiful and strong enough to challenge everything I thought I knew about myself. Don't let anyone make you believe you're less than extraordinary."

A tear slipped down her cheek, and he reached up to catch it with his thumb.

"Liam," she whispered.

"I know it's complicated," he said. "I know I have no right to say this, but—"

"But?"

He took a breath, knowing that what he said next would change everything.

"But I can't stand by and watch him diminish you. I can't pretend I don't care what happens to you."

The admission hung between them like a bridge they couldn't uncross. In that moment, surrounded by the scent of roses and the weight of unspoken truths, they both understood that whatever game they'd been playing had evolved into something infinitely more dangerous.

Something real.

Something worth fighting for.

But first, they had to decide if they were brave enough to fight.