Second First Love

---

The private jet shrieked above, tearing a cruel line through the flawless blue sky, and my stomach churned itself into a hard, unpleasant knot.

I waited at the private landing strip's far edge, arms crossed, sunglasses protecting my eyes from the late afternoon sun-and more to the point, from him.

I hadn't laid eyes on Liam Hart in six years.

Six years since he'd torn through my life like a hurricane, leaving only devastation and silence in his path.

Six years since I'd reconstructed myself from the ground up, brick by painful brick, right here on Moonfire Island-*my* island.

And now he thought he could just fly back into my life as if nothing had happened?

I lifted my chin higher, spine straight.

No. Not today. Not ever.

The plane taxied to a stop, the metal glinting like a blade. A few minutes ticked by, then the door opened and a staircase dropped down. My heart thudded dully against my ribs as I watched him step out.

Liam Hart.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Hair a little longer than I remembered, messier. His jaw was stubbled, his golden tan a little faded, as if the sun had tried and failed to scorch the darkness out of him.

He wore faded jeans, a plain black T-shirt that clung tightly to muscles leaner, more finely honed than the ones I remembered. A duffel bag was slung over one shoulder.

He looked ruined. Wrecked.

Good.

I wanted him to stay that way.

Liam stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes-those dangerous, storm-grey eyes-finding mine across the stretch of asphalt.

There was silence. A long, slow inhalation where the world seemed to hold its breath, waiting.

I didn't move. Didn't blink.

Didn't let him see even a flicker of emotion.

"You have five minutes," I said curtly, my voice echoing into the stillness. "Then you're getting back on that plane."

He dropped his bag to the floor with a thud. His mouth twisted into an almost-smile. Bitter. Amused. Tired.

"Still the same Aria Vale," he said. His voice was rougher than I remembered, a little rougher around the edges. "Cold as hell."

"And you're still the same Liam Hart," I shot back, stepping in close enough to notice the fine lines etched at the corners of his mouth. "Ruining everything you touch."

His gaze flickered, just for a second. A slight crack in that arrogant exterior.

Good.

I turned on my heel, my white sundress flying around my legs in the sea air. My heels clicked neatly on the pavement as I walked away.

If he had something to say, he could follow me.

If he was intelligent, he'd get back on that idiot plane and disappear.

I heard his footsteps behind me a moment later.

Of course.

Because Liam Hart never knew when to give up.

***

The island's main house loomed in front of us, sleek and modern amidst the jungle. A huge glass-and-stone monstrosity that had taken everything I had to build-and had been worth every single penny.

Moonfire wasn't just my home.

It was my empire.

My salvation.

And I would be damned if I let *him* defile it.

Inside, the air conditioning chilled my skin. I led him into the lounge without looking back, falling into one of the white leather armchairs.

Liam stayed standing, hands shoved in his jeans pockets. He looked absurdly out of place-too rough, too worn, too real among the gleaming marble floors and shining steel fittings.

I hated how good he looked.

Hated how my body reacted instinctively, traitorously, to being in close proximity to him again.

Focus, Aria.

"I'll make this easy," I said, crossing one leg over the other and tapping my nails lazily against the armrest. "State your business. Briefly."

He rubbed a hand through his hair, exhaling a sharp breath.

"I need work."

I blinked once, slowly.

Of all the possibilities of what he might say, that one hadn't even been on the list.

"You're kidding me," I said.

"I'm not."

"You want *me* to hire you?" My laughter was low, slashing, merciless. "After everything you did?"

He shrugged, the movement stiff, almost defensive. "You built an empire here. I don't need charity. I can stand on my own two feet."

I rose, slowly, purposely, and closed the distance between us until we were barely a foot apart.

It was a mistake.

Up close, I could smell him-that same maddening mix of fresh soap, salt, and something darker. Something sinfully male.

I clenched my fists at my sides.

"You think you can just. waltz back into my life," I spat, voice shaking with suppressed anger, "and I'll just invite you to sit at my table? After you *left*? After you *ruined everything*?"

"I didn't have a choice-"

"Don't," I barked, stepping back before I did something stupid like slap him-or worse, kiss him. "Don't you dare stand there and pretend like you were some kind of victim."

He flinched, barely, and I hated that I noticed.

"I'm not looking for forgiveness, Aria," he grated. "I'm just asking for a chance."

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my throat.

Half of me wanted to scream at him, to throw him out and never look at him again.

But another half-the damaged, treasonous half that still remembered what it was like to be *wanted* by Liam Hart-hesitated.

God, I was an idiot.

"Do you want to stay?" I said, my voice low and icy. "Fine."

His shoulders tensed.

"You'll work from the ground up," I continued. "Maintenance. Janitorial. Manual labor. No special treatment. No exceptions."

His jaw clenched, but he nodded.

"You'll report to my people. Not to me."

He nodded again.

"And if you so much as *look* at me the wrong way." I let the threat hang in the air.

"I won't," he said quietly. "I swear."

I stared at him for a long time.

I didn't trust him.

Not for a second.

But letting him stay.

Letting him see what I'd built without him.

Letting him suffer in silence under my roof.

That might be the sweetest revenge of all.

"Report to Mateo in the morning," I barked. "Be ready to get your hands dirty."

I turned on my heel again, heading for the stairs.

"Aria," he said behind me.

I stopped.

His voice was shattered, raw.

Different.

I didn't turn around.

"What?" I said over my shoulder, my voice icy.

"I'm sorry," he said.

I shut my eyes for a moment, letting the words breach my defenses before I shook them off.

"Sorry doesn't rewrite history," I said to him. "And it sure as hell doesn't rewrite tomorrow."

Not awaiting a response, I went up the stairs, my heart pounding, my legs shaking a bit beneath me.

The silence behind me stretched and contorted, packed with all the things neither of us could speak.

I did not look back.

I could not.

If I did, I wasn't sure I'd survive it.

---

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.

---

I awoke the following morning with a burden of foreboding weighing heavily in my chest. The sunlight streamed through the thin curtains, bathing the room in a warm light. I tossed over in bed, burying my face in the hard pillow as though I could silence the thoughts that haunted me.

Liam.

Every time I tried to push him out of my mind, his face appeared before me-his dark, brooding eyes, his calloused fingers, the way his smile had that small twist to it, as if he knew exactly what to say in order to infuriate me.

I groaned into the pillow, forcing myself to forget the flame that had flared between us while working in the garden yesterday. It wasn't even the way he walked or how his muscles tensed in the sun-it was all of it. All of our memories flooded my senses. The way he made me feel alive, the way he'd been my everything. until he hadn't been anymore.

He'd been a mistake.

He was still a mistake.

But I couldn't help remembering the way his fingers had brushed against mine while we worked. A casual contact, nothing unusual, and yet it had felt like a jolt, an electric shock that ran right through my chest and down to places I hadn't seen in years.

I couldn't.

I wouldn't.

I got out of bed, wrapped myself in a simple sundress, the kind that billowed and touched only lightly against the skin, hoping the fabric would muffle my mind. I didn't have time to think about him. I had things to do-things that didn't include *him*.

But as soon as I emerged from my bedroom, there he was.

Liam.

He sat on the back porch, a coffee cup held in his hand, his legs stretched out in front of him. He seemed to belong there-like he had never been away. His eyes snapped to me the moment I came outside, a glimpse of something raw flashing across his face. It was gone in an instant, replaced by that cold, calculated expression he'd honed over the years.

"Morning," he whispered, his tone low, the word an offering and he holding back for me to take it.

"Morning," I managed, stepping out onto the porch with a moment's hesitation. I resented the fact that he could still get my heart to pound a little bit faster from a simple word.

He said nothing else. Just sipped his coffee and looked at me, as if he was studying me. I could feel his eyes on me, tracing the lines of my body, lingering on my naked skin. I told myself I didn't care, but I was lying.

"Garden's almost done," he said casually, breaking the silence. "I'll have it done today."

I nodded, but my thoughts drifted away. His statement was harmless enough, but it was too familiar. Too comfortable. Like nothing had changed at all.

When everything had.

"I want to make sure you're on task," I said, my voice a little harder than I meant it. "There's still a lot of work to be done around here. I'm not paying you to just sit around."

He didn't blink at the bite in my voice. His expression didn't falter. Instead, he just nodded slowly. "Of course. I'm here to work, Aria. I said that yesterday."

His voice was calm, too calm. I hated that he wasn't getting angry at my attitude, that he wasn't having a tantrum like I wished he would. That he wasn't begging. He wasn't doing anything to restore the man he used to be-the man who had crumbled at the first sign of my temper.

But I was crumbling now.

Not him.

I wanted to blow my top at him. To tell him to take off, get the hell off my property and never come back. But I couldn't. He had over me in ways I did not wish to admit, and the last thing I needed was to admit that I was still *hopelessly* attracted to him.

"I'll be inside," I growled, my tone raspy. Not waiting for permission, I spun on one heel and marched back into the house, trying to slow my breathing.

I was being ridiculous. He was just a man.

Just a man whom I had loved and lost.

But the longer he was here, the more futile it was to resist the magnet pulling me in his direction. And the most dreadful thing of all-*he knew it*.

***

The day trudged by too slowly for convenience. I tried to get work done-on the estate, on the things that were waiting to be tended to-but my mind kept wandering. It was impossible not to wonder what Liam was doing. Whether he was present, bare chested, sweaty, the way I had envisioned him at that moment in the garden. I could picture him now, his bare back, the sun lighting the muscles which had always gotten my heart racing, even when I hated him.

I pushed those thoughts out of my mind, shaking my head. That wasn't what I needed to think about now. I needed to get to work. But whenever I looked out the window, I saw him working, intent, his movements purposeful and sure.

The pull was strong. I couldn't fight it anymore.

During lunchtime, I paid him a visit. He was bent over beside the flowerbeds, weeding, his shirt soaked with sweat, sticking to his back. His shoulders were broad, the muscles of his arm bulging with every movement, and I couldn't help but stare.

"You don't need to do all of this," I said, firm but gentle. I needed him to understand this wasn't an open door-not a door he could use for himself as an opportunity to infiltrate my life.

He tensed, his eyes meeting mine with that same hard, unflinching gaze. "I told you, Aria. I'm here to prove myself."

I shook my head, annoyed with him staring at me the way he was. *What did he want?*

"Prove yourself how? By being my gardener?" I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. It was hard to keep the anger when all in me wanted to give in to the craving building in my veins.

He did not seem offended. He even seemed to derive amusement from what was taking place. "You have a lot of pride," he said in a quiet, measured tone. "I don't know that I've ever seen you as you are now."

"I wasn't like that previously," I snapped, moving forward on him. "You don't get to just come back into my life like nothing has occurred."

His eyes grew dark as he stepped forward, bridging the gap between us. "Who told me I was trying to come back? Maybe I am just trying to set things right."

I took a step back, gasping in my throat. "I don't want you to set things right. Not with me."

He was too near now, his scent surrounding me, a rich mixture of mud-scented cologne and the faint sheen of perspiration. He stepped closer, his hand floating gently along my arm, and a spark of electricity shot through me.

"You're lying," he breathed, his voice hoarse. "You want me, Aria. I know it in your eyes. You've always desired me. Even when you detested me."

I pulled back, my chest heaving. "No," I said, but even I didn't believe I meant it. "I don't want you."

But the moment I spoke the words, I knew they were a lie. The truth was standing right there in front of me, irrefutable, hanging in the air between us.

He took a step further, his body looming over mine, and I couldn't even move my eyes. His fingers brushed against my cheek, the contact so light and it sent shivers down my spine.

"Aria," he murmured, his mouth inches from mine. "You don't need to play it cool. I'm not going anywhere."

And I wasn't even certain if I wanted him to.