Loving the enemy

Chapter 17

Liam’s pov

I should’ve been in a meeting. Contracts, numbers, decisions. My day was full of them. But the moment Ava appeared in my office, all wide eyes and that smile, the rest of the world could wait.

She called it a lunch date. Maybe it was. But it felt like more than that. Like she was playing at something bigger, and I let her.

Inside, everything felt different. The hostess spotted me right away—of course she did—and led us to a quiet corner booth, private but still with a clear view of the room.

I let Ava slide into the booth first, watching the way she adjusted her dress and how her hair fell over her shoulders. She acted like she didn’t notice me staring, but the small curve of her lips gave her away. She knew.

I sat down next to her instead of across, close enough for my arm to touch hers. Her eyes lifted to mine, surprise filled them.

“You’re not going to sit across from me?” she asked softly.

I leaned back, resting my arm along the back of the booth behind her. “Why would I put all this distance between us? I would rather have you right here.”

She held her breath, but I noticed everything. She tried to cover it with a smirk. “You just want to keep an eye on me.”

I leaned in closer, my lips near her ear, speaking low so only she could hear. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like the view from here.”

Her cheeks flushed with color. She turned to me, eyes narrowed.“You’re impossible.”

I grinned. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”

The waiter showed up with menus, but I waved them away. “The usual,” I said, and he left without a word. Ava tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes

“The usual? Do you bring all your dates here?” she teased.

I studied her, letting the pause linger before answering. “No. Just my wife.”

Her lips parted a little, and I caught the flicker in her eyes. The word still unsettled her, still felt strange and forbidden. I liked that. I liked how it kept her unsteady.

She cleared her throat and leaned closer, her perfume teasing me as much as her words. “So, does your wife get the same treatment as your business partners? No small talk, straight to the point?”

I chuckled, letting my gaze drop to her lips before meeting her eyes again. “With my wife, Ava… there’s no deal to make. You already own me.”

She laughed softly, but I could hear the tremor in it. When she tried to look away, I gently held her chin, turning her face back to mine. My thumb brushed her jaw just slightly.

For a moment, the air between us grew heavy, charged with something unspoken. I could have kissed her right then, and a part of me wanted to.

But instead, I leaned back with a smirk. “Careful, Mrs. Vance. Keep looking at me like that, and lunch might turn into something else entirely.”

Her eyes lit up with challenge. “And if that’s what I want?”

God, she was dangerous. Was she teasing me right now?

And I wasn’t sure I wanted to fight it anymore.

Ava leaned back against the leather seat, trying to look calm, but I noticed the way her fingers tapped her fork against her plate, the way she smoothed her dress even when it didn’t need fixing.

I let my arm rest along the back of the booth, close enough to brush her shoulder. She noticed, of course, and lifted a brow. “Do you always sit this close at business lunches?”

I smiled, leaning in. “This isn’t business. And if it were, I’d say we’re working on something a lot more interesting than a contract.”

Her lips twitched like she was holding back a smile. “You think everything’s a game, don’t you?”

“Only when I’m winning,” I said with a smirk.

She shook her head, hiding a laugh behind her glass. But when she set it down, her eyes flicked to my mouth—just for a second. And I noticed.

Heat stirred in my chest. I tilted my head, letting the silence stretch until her eyes flicked up to mine—and she knew I’d caught her. Her cheeks turned pink, and she quickly looked away, pretending to study the chandelier.

I grinned. “Careful, Ava. Watching a man’s lips usually gives him ideas.”

Her eyes snapped back to me, feigning innocence. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Liar,” I said softly, amused by the way she shifted in her seat.

The waiter arrived then, setting plates of rich, fragrant food in front of us. Perfect timing and the worst timing. I hardly glanced at the dishes. My hunger wasn’t for food.

Ava picked up her fork, stabbing at a bite, pretending to focus. “You’re very sure of yourself for someone who’s only guessing.”

I leaned closer, my voice low, meant just for her. “It’s not a guess. I saw it. The real question is… what were you imagining when you looked?”

Her breath caught and she covered it with a sip of water, eyes refusing to meet mine. That alone told me enough.

I chuckled softly, shaking my head. “You’re dangerous, Ava. You act shy, but underneath it—you like this game as much as I do.”

Her fork froze midair. Then, slowly, her eyes lifted back to mine, steady now, a spark of defiance glowing in them. “And if I do?”

My jaw tightened, heat running through me. I leaned in, so close my lips nearly brushed hers, close enough to feel her. “Then lunch ends early.”

For a moment, neither of us moved. Her lips parted slightly, her eyes flicking down again to my mouth.

Then she exhaled, leaning back and breaking the moment with a faint, knowing smile. “Eat your food, Liam.”

I sat back too, a quiet laugh slipping out. She thought she had the upper hand, but she was wrong.

Ava might be hiding secrets, but she couldn’t hide the look in her eyes.

She wanted me.

And sooner or later, she had stop pretending otherwise.

For someone who’s my wife, she’s awfully shy and sometimes uncomfortable around me. Not that I mind. The push and pull is addictive, watching her try to stay guarded while I peel it away one glance at a time.

But it’s strange. Shouldn’t marriage mean comfort? Intimacy? With Ava, it feels like we’re playing roles we never rehearsed. She smiles, laughs, touches my arm but there’s a hesitation, a carefulness I can’t ignore.

Maybe it’s me. The accident took pieces of me I can’t get back. Memories, moments, whole years that belong to a stranger who wore my face. Maybe she remembers the man I used to be, the husband I should know how to be and she sees the gaps every time I look at her.

But there’s something else, too. Something I can’t quite name.

Still… when she leans close, when her gaze drifts to my mouth and she forgets herself for just a heartbeat, it doesn’t matter what I’ve lost. My body wants her like it remembers her.

I let the quiet stretch before pushing my plate away. “You’re not eating.”

“I’m not that hungry,” she said lightly, but her fingers clenched her napkin like it was a lifeline.

I studied her, tilting my head. “Strange. For a woman who’s supposed to know me so well, you act like we’re strangers sometimes.”

Her eyes flickered—quick, but enough. Then she gave me a soft, practiced smile. “Maybe you just don’t remember how I’ve always been.”

That hit harder than I expected. She was right, I didn’t remember. And I hated that I couldn’t tell if she was being honest or just careful.

I leaned back, smirking to hide the frustration in my chest. “Then maybe you’ll just have to reintroduce yourself to me… properly.”

She glanced at me then nodded.