Chapter 9 MORNING LIGHT

Liana's POV

The alarm screamed at 6:45 a.m.

I slapped it silent before it could finish the first note.

My flat smelled like lilies and cold coffee. The black box sat empty on the counter-petals long gone down the drain, but the scent clung anyway, stubborn and sweet. I stood under the shower until the water ran cold, trying to wash away the night's decisions.

I was going.

Not because I trusted him.

Because I needed to see his face when he lied.

Or when he didn't.

Black jeans. Soft grey sweater that hugged in all the right places. Hair down, wild curls still damp from the shower. Lipstick the color of blood. If I was walking into a trap, I'd look like the one setting it.

The coffee shop was fifteen minutes from my door. Small, tucked between a newsagent and a dry cleaner. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Wooden tables. The kind of place that smelled like cinnamon and fresh grounds even when it was empty.

I arrived at 7:58.

He was already there.

Table by the window, just like he'd said.

Black coat draped over the chair back. Dark sweater. Hair is slightly messy, maybe from running his hands through it.

Two cups in front of him, one black, one caramel latte with a swirl of foam on top. He looked up the second my shadow crossed the glass.

His face changed.

Not the cool, controlled CEO from the search results.

Something softer. Almost shy.

He stood too fast, knocking the edge of the table. The spoon clinked against porcelain.

"Liana."

My name in his mouth still sounded like a question he was afraid to ask out loud.

I slid into the seat opposite him without smiling.

"You're early," I said.

"So are you."

His voice was quieter than I remembered. No low rumble, no teasing edge. Just... careful.

I wrapped my fingers around the warm mug. Caramel latte. Exactly how I liked it.

"You remembered."

"I pay attention."

He sat again, hands folding on the table like he didn't know what to do with them. A faint flush crept up his neck.

"I didn't mean to freak you out with the photo," he said before I could speak. "I just... I saw you leaving the hotel from the window. I was still in bed. I took it because-" He stopped, rubbed the back of his neck. "Because I didn't want the night to end. It was sStupid. I'm sorry."

I studied him.

No smirk. No arrogance.

Just a man who looked like he'd spent the night replaying every second the same way I had.

"You know where I live," I said flatly.

He winced. "LinkedIn. Your profile lists the general area. I guessed the coffee shop on the corner. I didn't follow you. I swear."

I sipped the latte. Perfect temperature. Perfect sweetness.

Damn him.

"Why the flowers?" I asked.

He exhaled. "I wanted you to smile. Even for a second. Lilies... they mean new beginnings. I thought-" He laughed under his breath, self-conscious. "I thought maybe you needed one. Maybe with me."

My chest tightened.

He had no idea how right he was.

Or how wrong.

I leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping low and teasing-the way I used to before the world tried to kill me.

"You're sweet, Raphael Blackthorne."

His eyes flicked to my mouth. Then back up. The flush deepened.

"I'm trying."

I let my foot brush his under the table. Just once. Slow.

He froze.

Then his knee pressed back-tentative, like he was asking permission.

I smiled. Slow. Wicked.

"You're also CEO of Oraion. My company's biggest rival. Did you think I wouldn't look you up?"

His expression shifted, ksurprise, then something like relief.

"I hoped you would," he admitted. "I didn't want to hide it. I just... didn't want that to be the first thing you knew about me."

I tilted my head. "What did you want me to know first?"

He looked at me like I was the only thing in the room.

"That I haven't stopped thinking about you since you walked out that door."

Heat curled low in my belly.

Dangerous heat.

I leaned closer, voice a whisper. "Careful, big guy. I bite when I'm cornered."

His laugh was soft. Shy. "I think I'd like that."

I let my fingers trail across the back of his hand, just a graze.

He sucked in a breath.

Then his fingers turned, caught mine. Gentle. Warm. Thumb brushing my knuckles like I was something precious.

"I want to take you to dinner," he said quietly. "Proper dinner. Not a hotel bar. Not a rushed night. Just... you and me. With dood food and wine.

"No pressure."

I arched my brow. "You think you can handle me over three courses?"

"I think I'd like to try."

His eyes were earnest. Almost boyish.

My sarcastic armor cracked-just a fraction.

I pulled my hand back slowly, letting my nails drag along his palm.

"Maybe," I murmured. "If you're good."

He smiled-small, hopeful, devastating.

Then his phone buzzed on the table.

He glanced at it. Frowned.

"Work," he said apologetically. "I have to-"

"Go," I finished. "CEO things."

He stood, hesitated. Leaned down.

"Can I kiss you goodbye?"

I tilted my face up.

I had expected him to kiss my lips, but instead he pressed his lips softly against my cheeks.

Then he pulled back.

"Tonight?" he asked. "Dinner?"

I clear my throat, steadying my racing heart.

"Text me the details."

He grinned.

Then he was gone, with his coat on and long strides toward the door.

I watched him disappear into the rain.

My phone buzzed.

Not from him.

From Blaise Corps internal.

Graham McFadden: My office. Now. We need to talk about the overnight login from your home IP. Security is already on site.

My blood went cold.

I looked at the empty chair across from me.

Raphael's coffee cup still steamed.

Graham's email burned in my inbox.

Two worlds colliding.

One hour until the audit.

And the sweet man who just kissed me goodbye had no idea the noose around my neck had just tightened another inch.

I stood.

Grabbed my coat.

And walked straight into the storm.