Chapter 2: The Devil’s Move
577 Words
Liam had met countless women—seductive, submissive, manipulative, desperate. He knew their games before they even played them. But Ella Moreau? She was something else entirely.
She didn’t chase.
She didn’t submit.
She didn’t fall into his world like she was waiting to be devoured.
And that was exactly why he wanted her.
Liam took a slow sip of his Scotch, his piercing blue eyes never leaving her face. “Tell me, Ella,” he murmured, his voice laced with intrigue, “do you always walk into a room like you own it, or is that just for my benefit?”
Ella tilted her head, amusement flickering across her lips. “You think I’m trying to impress you?”
“Everything you do is impressive,” he said smoothly. “But that’s not what I asked.”
She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she ran a finger along the rim of her wine glass, eyes locked on his, daring him to wait. Then, with a slow, deliberate breath, she said, “I don’t walk into a room like I own it, Liam. I walk in knowing that no one else does either.”
Damn.
Liam smirked, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “Dangerous mindset.”
“You should know,” she countered. “Isn’t that how you built your empire? Taking things no one else dared to claim?”
Liam chuckled darkly. “Touché.”
For a brief second, silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken promises and raw, crackling tension.
Then Liam leaned in just slightly, his presence intoxicating. “Do you know what I do to people who challenge me, Ella?”
She arched a brow. “Let me guess. Destroy them?”
His smirk deepened. “Only if they bore me. But you… you make me curious.”
Ella’s lips parted slightly, her breath uneven for just a second. It was subtle, but Liam noticed. He noticed everything about her—the sharp wit in her words, the fire in her eyes, the way her body betrayed her just enough to let him know that beneath all that confidence… she felt the pull just as much as he did.
And then, just when he thought she might lean in, just when the air between them turned electric—
Ella stood up.
Liam’s eyes darkened.
“I should go,” she said simply, grabbing her purse. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Sinclair.”
Mr. Sinclair. That was a dismissal, a wall being put up between them.
Liam let her take two steps before he moved.
Before she could reach the exit, his hand caught her wrist—gentle, but firm enough to stop her in place.
“Running away so soon?” His voice was dangerously low.
Ella turned slowly, her gaze locked onto his. “I don’t run,” she said.
Liam stepped in closer, his grip still light but possessive. “Then prove it.”
Her pulse quickened beneath his touch, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she met his challenge with a slow, knowing smile.
And then she leaned in, her lips just inches from his ear.
“Careful, Liam,” she whispered. “You might not be ready for what happens when you finally get what you want.”
Then, just like that, she slipped away.
Liam watched her disappear into the night, his jaw tight, his blood burning.
Game on, Ella Moreau. Game on.
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- Writer
