Entangled Heart: A Rival's Redemption

Chapter 3: Older Wounds

My ideas were a muddle by the time I returned to my flat. Too wired to sit still, I slammed the door behind me and dumped my suitcase on the couch. By "You know this isn't just about the project," Liam meant something else. His cryptic comments kept coming back to me like a broken record, and I hated that I didn have a swift, assured response for him right then. With every interaction we had, the knot of emotions seemed to thicken. I walked the floor trying to untangle it. This ought to be about business. An opportunity for me to prove that I was more than just some expendable value in Liam's universe and hence strengthen my reputation. But today it seemed like something more. Personal stuff. Was he pointing to the past? In the manner that things had concluded between us all those years ago? I moaned and frustratedly ran a hand through my hair. Old recollections would not allow me to focus. To let Liam Worthington knock me off course, I had climbed too far and worked too hard. Easily said, yet, was not always true. Particularly when every look and every smile from him seemed to draw at emotions I had long buried. Interrupted by my phone buzzing on the counter, I lost focus. I reached for it and peered at the screen. Jenna: How is it? Has he yet attempted to mansplain the whole project? Want a backup? I grinned even though I was not sure. Jenna always seemed to be able to pierce the noise in my head. She had known me long enough to know how deep my hatred toward Liam went—and how convoluted our relationship had been before it all came apart. I swiftly typed back: Me: You really have no idea. He is currently in full disdainful posture. Jenna reacted right away: Jenna: Ugh, that dude is horrible. Need wine or an emergency call to "save" you from the rest of the week? Me: To be honest right now both sound fantastic. Though I'm trying not to let him irritate me, it seems as though he lives to do so. Her following comment appeared just a moment later. Jennifer: You could want to strike him at his own game, where it hurts. Show him that right now you are the one in charge. I considered her remarks for a time, staring at her mail. Approaching this project as a game of chess and strategizing and planning my movements so I could outmaneuver him at every round seemed tempting—very appealing. I wanted him to see me no longer the lady he had turned aside. I was more robust. more narrowly focused. Unbreakable. Still, something about Jenna's recommendation seemed strange. This was not only about triumph. That cannot be. Should I get myself buried in the concept of defeating Liam, I would be allowing too much mental space for him. Again, I would be following his guidelines, and I could not afford to lose sight of the reason I was truly here. Me: Correct. I only have to keep concentrated and prove myself. Jenna: Exactly! You are right, Em. And if he exhibits too much attitude, picture him stumbling over his own ego and face-planting himself into a mound of rejection letters. That ought to be of use. I sh shook my head and laughed. Leave it to Jenna to provide precisely the proper kind of ridiculous mental image to pull me out of my own brain. Me: Appreciations, Jenna. Promise; I will survive. Talk later. Always! Jenna: Get 'em, tiger. Feeling somewhat lighter, I put down the phone. I needed that prod, that reminder that I had come too far to let a man like Liam knock me off-balance. I was not here for him. I was right here for me. ---------------------wise With my chin raised, I entered the office the next morning resolved to keep my head in the game. To get ready for the day, I had spent the evening adjusting my forecasts and polishing my presentation. Though Liam might have believed his remarks would frighten me, I had evidence to show and I wasn't going to let him undermine my confidence once more. He was already sat reading over a set of papers when I entered the conference room. His eyes lingered on me for just a little more than required before he moved his attention back to the papers in front of him as I entered. Good morning. I sat into the chair across from him. "Morning," he answered not looking up. For a while we worked silently, the tension between us obvious but not expressed. Though I was not going to let my guard down, it was a far cry from the emotional firestorm that had exploded between us the day before. Not possible. The hours passed and I discovered myself become increasingly absorbed in the work. The initiative involved several continents and markets and carried great stakes. Should I be able to execute this, the kind of achievement defined by professions would define careers. And for some time I was able to shove Liam, the past, the unsolved tension, into the background. Naturally, though, it did not last. After a particularly protracted period of silence, Liam said, reclining back in his chair. "Are we going to pretend it doesn't exist or talk about the elephant in the room?" I stopped, my pulse missing a beat. I had hoped—foolishly, apparently—that we might sidestep this topic. That we might bury the past and concentrate on the work. Liam evidently, though, had different ideas. "What elephant?," I asked, typing something into my laptop pretending to be ignorant. He cast a sharp glance at me. "Emma, you precisely know what I mean." Though I wasn't really typing anything, I focused on the screen and kept my fingers hammering away at the keyboard. "Liam, simply say it if you want to discuss something. Steer clear of dancing about the problem. "Fine," he replied, leaning forward as his voice dropped into that low, austere tone that always made my heart accelerate. "What happened between us...? Under the bridge, it is not only water. You know, as well as I do. I gazed up at him and tried hard, my heart pounding. I hated that his dark, penetrating gaze still had the ability to cause me to experience emotions I didn't want to be feeling. Focus, Emma. Allow him to pass through you. I said with great conviction, "There's nothing to talk about." "It was years past. I moved on. Liam's stare never changed. "Have you?," asked His questioning style, which seemed as though he already knew the answer, infuriated me. Like he could see across the walls I had erected around me. Yes, I said, more firmly than I meant. I do. Neither of us said anything for a little period. The stillness was thick, loaded with the weight of all left unsaid between us. My pulse thumping in my chest, I could feel the familiar burn of wrath building in my throat. How could he interrogate me as though he had any right? Could he dig the past like it was some open wound he could p poke at anytime he felt like it? "You cannot simply pretend it did not happen, Emma," he continued gently, his voice quieter now, nearly apologetic. "What we had—it was real." My claws cutting into my hands, I closed my fists. "It was a mistake." He flicked, just barely, but I saw it. I almost felt guilty for a split second as well. About. His voice low and rough, he continued, "You don't mean that." Unable to keep still any more, I got up. "You are not allowed to tell me what I mean, Liam. You are not allowed to behave as though we are still whatever we were. He got up too, his eyes flickering with something between hurt and wrath. "I'm not attempting to—" Then, what are you hoping to accomplish? I snapped, my voice getting higher. "Based on where I am standing, you seem to be merely messing about my head." Liam moved nearer, his gaze fixed on mine. "Emma, I'm attempting to figure out our arrival process. From everything to this, how we progressed. I thought I was not breathing. With the memory of what we had previously been, my pulse was pounding and my chest was constricting from his words. Of the evenings we had shared and the pledges we had promised. Of the way he had disassembled it all. My voice quivering, I added, "We got here because you made sure we did. "You left Liam. You abandoned me behind. He winced, and for a minute the mask he wore loosened to expose the agony under. "Emma, I had no decision." "There is always a choice," I said, my throat constricted with feeling. And you decided to drop me off. The quiet that followed was intolerable. Though I could feel the tears blazing at the rear of my eyes, I will not let them drop. Over Liam Worthington, I had cried enough. I was not going to satisfy him with my repeated breaking. Liam said at last, his voice hardly audible above a whisper, after what seemed like a lifetime. "I regret it." Fragile and shattered, the words hung in the space between us. And I observed something in Liam that surprised me for the first time in years. Reg>