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PROLOGUE
Emma
I slip through a narrow doorway,away from the raucous laughter and clinking glasses of the main hall. The back room of the club in stark contrast is shrouded in shadows and silence. It feels like stepping into another world that breathes secrets and forbidden tales.
The smell of old leather and tobacco clings thickly to the air. Neon lights from a beer sign flicker sporadically, casting a dim, surreal glow. Each flicker like a heartbeat, erratic and alive.
Stacks of boxes and a couple of worn-out couches make up the meager furnishings. The walls are adorned with old club memorabilia, each piece whispering a fragment of its history. This inner sanctum, capturing the essence of the club, is clearly off-limits to outsiders like me.
My heart pounds in my chest, echoing in the stillness. I know I'm not supposed to be here, but the urge to uncover what lies beneath the club's rugged exterior is overwhelming. I take a cautious step forward, the floorboards creak under my weight, betraying my presence in this hidden alcove of secrets.
I'm barely a few steps in when the murmur of voices catches my attention. I pause and strain my ears. The voices are muffled, coming from a corner shrouded in deeper shadow. My journalistic instincts kick in, whispering there's a story hidden in these hushed tones.
I edge closer, careful to make as little noise as possible. The conversation stops abruptly, and I freeze. Heart racing, I scan the room for a place to hide. There is none, I frantically search for an excuse to explain why I’m here, but it’s too late.
The heavy door swings open with a jarring creak, flooding the room with light from the hallway. Liam stands there, his formidable figure silhouetted against the brightness. His eyes find mine instantly. There's no mistaking the surprise, then suspicion, that flickers across his face.
My pulse quickens, a nervous flutter echoing in my ears. I force myself to maintain eye contact, even as beads of cold sweat begin to form at the nape of my neck.
“What are you doing here, Emma?” His icy voice cuts through the silence, sharp and accusing. I’m caught, like a deer in headlights, and for a moment, I can't speak.
“I was just looking for the restroom. Got lost.” I try to sound confidant but my voice doesn't sound like my own; it's too high and shaky.
He steps inside, and closes the door behind him, plunging us back into semi-darkness. “You expect me to believe that?” He's closer now, his presence overwhelming. He smells of leather and something distinctly masculine. I can almost feel the heat radiating off him.
I stand my ground, though every instinct is screaming at me to run. “I don’t care what you believe,” I retort, surprised at my own boldness.
Liam's gaze is unwavering, a piercing stare that seems to look right through me. "You know, we value trust and privacy here," he says, his voice low and steady. "You’re treading on thin ice, Emma."
The small room feels smaller with him so close. There's an intensity about him that's hard to ignore, an unspoken challenge in his eyes. I swallow hard, feeling a strange mix of fear and fascination.
"I'm just trying to understand," I say, my voice getting firmer. "The real story behind the club." It's the truth, but as I speak the words, I realize they carry more weight than I intended. There's more I want to understand now, more than just the story.
He studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. The air between us crackles with a raw tension that's about more than just suspicion or journalistic intrigue. Something neither of us anticipated.
"You think you’ve got us all figured out, don’t you?" Liam's voice breaks the charged silence, softer now but no less intense.
I meet his gaze, feeling a surge of something I can't quite name. "No, I’m realizing I don’t," I admit. My voice barely above a whisper.
There's a shift in his eyes, a flicker of something like recognition or maybe understanding. For a brief moment, the boundaries between journalist and club member, observer and observed, seem to blur.
In this charged moment, the room's confined space feels like a world of its own, with only Liam and I in it. His presence exudes a mixture of danger and allure. His eyes a question mark, a silent query that seems to ask what happens next.
"I don't want to be your enemy, Liam." My words surprise me, their honesty laying bare the conflict I feel.
For a second, his guard drops ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of something more beneath the tough exterior. It speaks of battles fought and scars hidden, a depth I hadn’t seen before.
With every word, he steps closer, closing the gap between us. I can feel the heat from his body now, an invisible force pulling me in. There’s an electricity in the air, a magnetic pull that’s both terrifying and intoxicating.
His hand comes up slowly, his fingertips brush against my cheek. A touch so surprisingly gentle it sends shivers down my spine. I can feel the heat from his skin, the faint tremor of his hand as if he's holding back a storm.
Our eyes lock in a silent confrontation. His gaze is an unyielding force, yet I can’t look away. In the depths of his eyes, I see something flicker – a storm of emotions he struggles to conceal.
In a breath, the distance between us vanishes. His lips press on mine, firm yet questioning as if seeking an answer. I respond with an urgency I didn't know I was feeling, my hands find their way to his hair, pulling him closer.
My heart beats so fast it feels like it's trying to escape my chest. I've wanted this for so long, and now it was finally happening. Liam's hands move up my thighs, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers through me. I moan softly, arching my back as his hands reach my core. He's touching me in a way that makes my entire body hum.
"Emma," he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. "Are you sure about this?"
