Chapter 4 His Touch, My Lie

Liana didn't sleep that night.

She lay in bed wrapped in silence, her fingers brushing over her lips again and again.

She could still taste him. Still feel the fire of that kiss.

And the lie lodged in her chest.

He doesn't know who you are.

You kissed him like it was the truth.

You let him touch you like you were his.

But you're not.

You're his wife by signature. Not by soul.

And if he ever found out...

He wouldn't just hate you.

He'd destroy you.

At dawn, she rose early and slipped into the library.

It was the only room in the estate that felt remotely human. Old books. A cracked leather sofa. A piano that hadn't been played in years.

She pulled a novel from the shelves and sat by the window, but she didn't read. Her eyes kept drifting to the snow-covered courtyard outside and the echo of Killian's voice from the night before.

"You're more than you let on."

Did he suspect?

Or was that just him, pulling back the first thread of curiosity?

Either way, it was dangerous.

And she had to put space between them.

---

The staff delivered breakfast late that morning-fruit, toast, eggs in a silver dome. Liana pushed the tray aside untouched.

Killian didn't appear.

He was gone before she woke. Again.

Just like every other day. But now, the silence between them felt different.

Tense. Fragile.

Like glass stretched thin over a flame.

It wasn't until after noon that he returned storming through the front doors with a phone pressed to his ear, his jaw tight.

"No," he said to whoever was on the other end. "I don't care if she threatens to pull the deal. She knew the risk."

His eyes met Liana's as he passed through the foyer. He didn't stop. But his gaze lingered too long. Too aware.

She waited.

Wondered if he'd say anything.

He didn't.

The moment passed like a match struck in a snowstorm.

Later that evening, Mara arrived with a new set of documents.

"Weekly schedule," she said briskly. "You're expected at a charity dinner Thursday, ribbon-cutting Friday, and a private event in Monaco next weekend."

"Monaco?" Liana blinked.

"Mr. Thorne's jet will take you both Friday morning. Pack for four days."

Liana hesitated. "What if I don't want to go?"

Mara's red lips curved into a smirk. "This marriage doesn't run on what you want. It runs on what looks good."

And Liana had never looked like more of a lie than she did now.

That night, she sat at the dining table for dinner.

She waited thirty minutes.

Killian didn't come.

She finally rose to leave when his voice stopped her.

"Leaving already?"

She turned.

He stood in the archway, no suit jacket, tie loosened. There was a drink in his hand. And something in his eyes she hadn't seen before.

Hesitation.

"Didn't think you were joining me," she said softly.

"I wasn't going to." He walked in. "But I remembered what happened last time I ignored you."

Her cheeks burned.

He poured himself a drink, then motioned toward her plate. "You should eat. Monaco's going to be exhausting."

"I don't want to go."

"You're not given the option."

"Do you always get your way?"

He looked up sharply. "Yes."

She didn't flinch. "That must be lonely."

A pause.

Then he took a long sip of his drink. "It is."

And just like that, the air between them shifted.

They sat in silence for several minutes. The clinking of silverware and ice were the only sounds.

Then he spoke again unexpectedly.

"I looked into your school records."

Her pulse stuttered.

"I found out you studied art. And you left the program two years ago." He glanced at her. "Why?"

Liana stared at her plate. "Because my father stopped paying for it."

"That's not what the registrar said."

She swallowed. "Then maybe I just stopped believing in myself."

His eyes searched her face like he was trying to decipher her story line by line.

"You're not like her," he said quietly.

Her throat tightened. "Who?"

He didn't answer.

But she knew who he meant.

Leona.

---

Later, he walked her to her room-another first.

She paused at the doorway, unsure what to say.

He hovered behind her, close enough for his breath to brush the back of her neck.

"Last night," he said. "Was a mistake."

"I know."

"It can't happen again."

"I know that too."

But when she turned to look at him, his eyes dropped to her lips again just for a second.

And then, he was gone.

She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, heart pounding.

How long could she keep lying?

And how long before Killian Thorne realized the woman he kissed under the stars wasn't Leona Hart...

But her twin.

And nothing he knew was real.