I'm here to fix the mess

Maya is standing in front of Liam, behind the bars — a couple of hours ago you were negotiating business for him with a powerful label executive, and now...he is in jail, for assaulting that said executive. As the officer leaves you be, Liam slowly shows a sly smile at Maya, "Sorry for the after-hour call." He lazily leans against the wall, "How much do they pay you for overtime?" Maya grabbed the helmet and jumped on behind him, clutching tight. "Let's get out of here before they catch up." Liam's grip tightens around the handlebars, the night air whipping through his silver hair as he accelerates. "Hold on. These streets don't forgive slow moves." His voice is low, rough with adrenaline, eyes scanning every shadow like a predator on edge. Maya tightened her grip around his waist, voice low and urgent. "We can't slow down now, not with them so close." The motorcycle roars to life. Maya wrapped her arms tight around Liam's waist, chest pressed to his back. Liam's solid, warm through the leather jacket. Maya's hands lock over his abs. "Hold tighter." Maya wrapped her around his waist, warmth bleeding through the leather against her skin. Liam shifts back just a little, making it easier for her to hold on. "We've lost those reporters. Free now. And I also thought you might want to breathe for once," Liam says, low, easy—while Maya felt the warmth of his abs flexing, soft but firm under her hands. "Where exactly are you taking me? On the way to my apartment," Maya shouted over the engine, mouth close to his ear. "By the way, I didn't just drag you out to dodge them, I'm taking you to my secret spot." Liam took another unexpected turn, heading toward the hills. Liam kills the engine, helps her off the bike and leads Maya inside. Liam pulls off his jacket, tossing it over the bike, just a fitted T-shirt underneath, completely relaxed and casual. An urge washes Maya over. Could it be that he makes better rock music here—of all places—than he does labels? Maya went and sat on the couch quietly. Liam leans against the battered upright piano, lighting a cigarette with a flick of his silver lighter. "You always get quiet when you're thinking too much. Not going to run out on me, are you?" Liam watched her face, smoke curling lazily from his lips as he waited for her reaction. "I don't even know why you brought me with you." Liam exhales a thin plume of smoke, flicking ash into an empty beer can. "You're my boss, right? I figured, you'd want to see what keeps me sane. Besides whiskey," Liam ran a hand through his silver hair, his gaze lingering on Maya with something unreadable—equal parts challenge and invitation. Maya leaned in slightly, letting her guard down just a bit. "Maybe I just wanted to see what you're really like, away from the chaos." Liam's eyes softened, a rare flicker of vulnerability flashing beneath his usual guarded glare. "Good, because that's exactly what I wanted—you, seeing the real me. Not just the chaos." Liam stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he brushed a stray lock of Maya's hair behind her ear. "Maybe it's time I stop hiding so much." Maya just shrugged and got up and asked. "Where's the bathroom?" Liam smirks, nodding towards a narrow door beside the worn-out couch. "Right through there. Don't get lost" Maya nodded without a word and slipped through the door into the bathroom, needing a moment alone. "I'll be back in a bit." Liam leans back against the door frame, crossing his arms casually. "Take your time. I'll be here, trying not to burn the place down." "OK," Maya closed the door, turned her back to it and slid down to the floor with her head resting against the door.