Loving the enemy

Chapter 13

Liam’s pov

It should have been an ordinary dinner. But nothing about this table was ordinary.

I sat between two women who couldn’t be more opposite. Ava, struggling to hold her head high under everyone’s eyes. And my mother, using polite words to get to her in ways she didn’t expect.

I hated it.

The moment my mother brought up “waiting tables,” the mood in the room changed. The old me—whoever that was—probably wouldn’t have cared. Maybe I’d have even laughed and joined in. But now? Seeing Ava’s fingers tighten on her glass, hearing her calm voice hold steady as she answered back—it stirred something in me.

It made me want to protect her. Fiercely.

I laid my hand over hers, quiet but clear. I’m here. I won’t let her hurt you. I won’t let her break you.

But inside, I was restless. Because the truth was—I couldn’t remember if what Ava said was real. Vegas. A bar. A chance meeting. It was a story I had no way of verifying, no past to confirm or deny it. And yet… I wanted to believe it. Because she believed it.

Trying to lighten the mood, I leaned over and whispered, “You okay over there, waitress queen?”

She shot me a look. “One more word and I’ll start calling you the mama’s boy who can’t defend himself.”

“Careful,” I murmured. “That might get me banished from my own family dinner.”

Her fingers curled around her glass. My hand found hers under the table, warm, steady. “Relax,” I said. “I’ve got your back. Unless you want me to start a food fight.”

A faint smirk flickered across her face. “I think you’d lose. I’ve seen you fight for dessert, not dignity.”

The table fell silent for a moment. My mother’s eyes shifted to me, watching closely. I gave a small shrug and leaned toward Ava, whispering, “Ignore the dragon. Smile. It confuses her.”

Ava looked at me, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Do you always whisper to your wife in the middle of interrogations?”

“Only when it’s fun,” I replied, a hint of amusement in my tone.

I looked at my mother. Her eyes were as hard as ever. She’d spent her life in meetings and behind-the-scenes deals, always in control. Now, Ava was just her newest target.

Dinner felt endless, like a chess game where Ava had to prove she belonged. And to me, she did. Every time my mother tried to corner her, Ava didn’t break. She didn’t look down. She spoke up. Maybe not with perfect polish, but with something better, certainty.

I should’ve been proud. Instead, I was angry. Angry at my mother for pushing, and at myself for not knowing whether I was defending my wife or a stranger.

When the dishes were taken away and dessert sat untouched, my mother stood up with her usual elegance. “A word, Liam,” she said. It wasn’t a request.

“Ah,” I said under my breath, “the dragon seeks me alone. Fun times.”

I gave Ava’s hand a squeeze. “Try not to burn the table while I’m gone.”

She smirked. “I’ll behave… mostly.”

I stood, giving Ava’s hand a final squeeze before following her into the hallway.

The door closed behind us, and my mother dropped the mask she wore for others. Her voice turned lower and sharper.

“She’s not right for you.”

I braced my hands in my pockets. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t be naïve. I see her for what she is. She doesn’t belong in this family, in your world. You’ve always been reckless with women, but this…” she shook her head, “this is worse. She’s an opportunist. A waitress who saw her chance and took it.”

“She’s my wife.”

“Conveniently,” She snapped. “And yet none of us were there. No one met her. No family. No friends. Just a sudden marriage in Reno?” Her gaze burned into me. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I love a good surprise,” I said, deadpan. “Keeps life interesting.”

“I’m saying she’s lying to you. And when you finally remember, Liam, you’ll see it too.”

Her lips thinned, unimpressed. I didn’t care. I knew what mattered. Ava

When I returned to the dining table, Ava was sitting with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her back straight, her eyes cool but distant. I slipped back into my seat beside her. “Ready to go?”

She hesitated, then slid her hand into mine. “Yes,” she said, a tiny mischievous glint in her eyes.

We left the table and I didn’t look back. I opened the car door. “After you, my brave warrior,” I said.

She raised an eyebrow. “Brave warrior? You do realize I survived your mother’s dinner, right?”

“I know. But this sounded cooler,” I replied, smirking.

The car drove smoothly out of the estate gates. Inside, it was quiet but the kind of quiet filled with unspoken jokes and small wins.

“Are you going to tell me what she said?” she asked finally, her voice calm.

I watched her face in the dim light. She didn’t move or look at me, but I could feel the question she was holding back.

“She tried. Didn’t succeed,” I replied. “Mostly because I kept distracting her.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You mean helping me?”

“Exactly,” I said. “All in the name of marital support.”

She chuckled softly, the kind of sound I could never get enough of. “You really are impossible, Liam Vance.”

“I know. That’s why you married me,” I teased.

The car went quiet again. She turned back toward the window, but I noticed the faint flush at her cheeks, the way her fingers unclenched slightly in her lap.

For reasons I didn’t want to name yet, seeing her steadier, reassured, stirred something inside me that was both grounding and dangerous.

Hours later, the penthouse was silent. Ava had gone into the bedroom after we got back, and though I wanted to follow and continue talking to her, I knew I wouldn’t sleep. Not with the question that had been eating at me since I woke up.

The yacht. The explosion. The fire.

I poured myself a drink, taking a gulp as I got lost in my thoughts. My phone buzzed on the counter, and I didn’t need to check the name flashing across the screen. I’d been waiting for this call.

“Vance,” A low, curt voice answered on the other end. My investigator. Quiet, costly, but worth it if he delivered.

“What do you have for me?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.

There was a pause, the rustle of papers, before he spoke. “The preliminary reports from the coast guard don’t line up. The fire wasn’t from an engine malfunction like they claimed. Accelerants were found in the wreckage.”

I held the glass tighter, my knuckles turning white. “So someone set it.”

“Someone wanted you dead,” he corrected. “And whoever it was had access to your yacht. They knew the layout. They knew when you’d be on board.”

A cold calm settled over me, dulling the sting of the whiskey. My mind ran through names, faces, enemies. Too many. I’d built my empire with hard edges, and plenty of people wanted to see me fall.

“Find out who,” I said, each word deliberate. “I don’t care what it costs. I want names.”

“You’ll have them,” he promised.

“Send me the report,” I said. My patience was gone.

When the call ended, I stood alone in the quiet of the penthouse, looking out at the shining city lights. Someone had tried to erase me from this world. And now? Now I was back, alive, breathing—and whoever had lit that match was going to regret not finishing the job.