Chapter 3

A security guard eyed me from a distance. I turned my back on Liam and Sarah and walked toward the exit.

Outside, the city air was thick and humid. I pulled a slim cigarette from my purse and lit it, the smoke a harsh burn in my throat. I rarely smoked, but right now, I needed it.

Liam hated it when I smoked.

His voice echoed from behind me, sharp and angry.

"Since when did you start that disgusting habit again?"

I turned slowly. Liam was standing there alone. Sarah was nowhere in sight. He must have put her in the car. His eyes were locked on the cigarette in my hand, his face a mask of disapproval.

It was funny. This was how we met.

Ten years ago, at a stuffy gala for some charity his mother supported. I was eighteen, fresh out of a broken home and into the city's shark tank. I was hiding on a balcony, smoking a stolen cigarette, when he found me.

He was the golden boy, Liam Sterling, surrounded by his sycophantic friends. He had swaggered onto the balcony like he owned it, which, his family probably did.

"Look what we have here," he'd said, a sneer on his face. "Trying to burn the place down?"

His friends chuckled.

I wasn't impressed. I had dealt with boys like him my whole life. Rich, entitled, and bored.

I took a long drag from my cigarette and blew the smoke right in his direction.

"Only if you're standing in it," I had replied coolly.

His friends stopped laughing. Liam's smirk faltered. He wasn't used to being challenged, especially not by a girl he didn't recognize, a girl who clearly wasn't part of his world.

"You've got a mouth on you," he said, stepping closer. "Who let you in?"

"Someone who values money more than manners," I said, dropping the cigarette and crushing it under my heel. "You should ask your father about it."

I had just closed a deal for my father' s company, a small but significant victory that had earned me an invitation to this event. I knew for a fact that the deal had cost the Sterling's a potential contract.

I didn't wait for his reply. I walked past him and his stunned friends and went back inside.

The next day, a bouquet of black roses arrived at my office. The card was simple. "I like a mouth on a girl. - L.S."

He was relentless. He called, he sent gifts, he showed up at my apartment. He pursued me with the same single-minded focus he applied to his business deals. He said he was intrigued. He said no one had ever spoken to him like that.

I thought it was a game. But he was persistent.

And a part of me, the part that had never known real affection or stability, started to fall for it. He was charming when he wanted to be. He made me feel seen.

But now, standing in front of the airport, that memory felt like it belonged to another lifetime.

The look in his eyes wasn't intrigue. It was the same disdain he'd shown me on that balcony ten years ago.

The prodigal son, returned to his original state.