Chapter 2 Aria (2)

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The next morning, the air on Moonfire Island was thick with humidity, the scent of saltwater mixing with the thick green of the jungle. I was on the balcony of my bedroom, looking out over the broad sight of the ocean. The sky was a pale, gentle blue, the kind of sky that you couldn't help but like before it turned to the hard glare of midday.

But all I could do was think of him.

Liam Hart.

The bastard I had vowed never to think about again.

The man who had come back into my life yesterday, asking for a second chance in the only way he knew how-with that cocky confidence that still made my heart skip a beat despite everything.

I leaned on the railing, the heat hanging thick around me. My fingers tapped out a beat on the wood, a metallic beat. It wasn't that I hadn't expected him-no, I'd spent years rehearsing this moment, fantasizing about it even, in my head. I'd imagined his face when he did show up on my doorstep, pleading for something. Anything. This?

This was not what I'd imagined.

Not in the least.

I had hoped that he would come crawling back, broken, apologetic to me. I had envisioned him begging me to take him back-if not as a lover, then as least as a person who could live a part of the life that he had destroyed.

But instead, he'd been... unruffled. Self-assured in himself in that infuriating, maddening way that made my blood boil. He wasn't begging for anything. He was insisting to be *let in*. And that made everything within me tighten up in ways I didn't want to admit.

I couldn't let him in.

I wouldn't.

A knock on the door pulled me out of my trance. My stomach tightened.

It was time.

I shoved the door open, and there he stood-Liam Hart, standing tall in the doorway, just as I'd remembered: tall, threatening, and still agonizingly gorgeous, like something carved from marble. He wore a rumpled T-shirt and cargo pants, sleeves rolled up to show the stringy muscles of his forearms.

I could sense a glimmer of warmth run through me. I did not need my body to betray me now.

He was not even giving me the courtesy of looking. He was scanning the ground in front of him, his jaw locked. I knew he did not come to play games. He had an issue on his mind-something greater than merely begging for space in my life once more.

"I'm ready," he said again, his deep voice flat, as if he had right to be there.

I remained silent. I let the air between us thicken with quiet, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Finally, I was able to break it.

"Ready for what?" I sneered, my own voice colder than I had intended. I wasn't sure I even cared to hear what he had to say, but too late now to turn back.

He lifted his head, regarding me for the first time since he had come into the room. His expression was unyielding, but there was something in his eyes-something that flashed like a spark beneath the surface, something raw and unprotected.

"For whatever comes next," he said, speaking almost in a whisper. "You challenged me to do work. I'm here to show you that I can."

I nodded once, stepping aside and opening the door to let him in. There was no going around this-no turning back. As much as I wanted to toss him out, I knew better than to let rage control me. The game had changed, and now I had to play it on my terms.

"Fine," I answered, my voice firm. "You begin in the garden at the back. We have too much ivy suffocating the rose bushes, and it's becoming a nuisance. Mateo will familiarize you with the tools and the plan. Don't lose any time. There is lots of work to be done."

Liam nodded, but I could spot the twitching at the edge of his mouth. He was trying not to smile. I couldn't identify it, but there was something about his eyes that disturbed me.

"Right," he said, the faintest smile on his lips. "Guess I'm going to learn how to cut roses back."

I folded my arms, resting against the doorframe. "That's precisely what I want to hear. Humility is your first lesson, Liam. See if you can do it."

His mouth compressed into a thin line, but I could see a flash of amusement in his eyes. "I'm sure I'll get it right."

I needed to tell him more. To remind him of the man he used to be-the man who felt the world owed him everything, that he could come and go as he pleased, breaking hearts with a mere glance. But something stopped me. I didn't know whether it was the way he looked at me these days, or that I had *missed* this-missed *him*-more than I would admit to myself.

I just stood there and let him leave, the door shutting behind him with a small click. For an instant, I was frozen in place, unable to move, aware of missing him more than I wanted to.

I was a fool.

And the worst part was, I knew that keeping him here, even in this minor, inconsequential way, would place me right back where I had been. To the point where I couldn't tell the pain from the pleasure.

But I wouldn't. Not again.

***

By midday, the island air had become dense and hot. It was oppressive heat, but I could not resist-it was going outside, having to feel the sun against my skin, needing something to take my mind off the relentless thinking that still ran through my head.

As soon as I stepped out into the yard, I spotted him.

Liam.

His back was turned to me while he knelt, pulling on the tangled ivy that had engulfed the garden. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and the ridges of his muscles beneath the torn T-shirt only made the sight more painful.

I couldn't look away.

His broad shoulders rolled with each stride, his arms glinting in the sun. I hated how easy it was to imagine having his hands on me again, how clearly I remembered him-every inch of his body, every inch of him that had belonged to me.

I pushed the image aside. It wasn't permitted. Not now.

But as he turned, wiping the sweat from his brow and offering me a small, almost sheepish smile, something inside me shifted.

Just for a second.

"I'm getting the hang of this," he said, his voice surprisingly light. "Not so bad, after all."

I felt the heat rise in my chest, something tight and burning, a combination of frustration and... desire.

I shook my head, not wanting to think about it, not wanting to think about *him*. "Don't get too cocky," I snapped, even as my heart pounded harder in my chest. "You're only here because I invited you."

He rose to his feet, eyes locked on mine. His smile faltered, replaced by something harder, something more intense. "And what do I do when I prove you wrong?" he asked. "When I show you I'm worth your time?"

I swallowed hard, not trusting myself to speak.

Because I knew-I knew that part of me still desired him. Desired to feel him again. Desired to feel his hands on my body the way that they once were.

But I couldn't. Not after everything.

Not after the way he left me.

I took a swift breath and spun on my heel, striding back toward the house in silence. I felt his eyes on my shoulders, weighing and probing behind me.

But I would not look back.

Not this time.