Meeting again
1072 Words
Liamh stood outside Madam Zee’s office, her palms sweaty. Her heart was hammering so loud she was sure if anyone passed by, they’d hear it.
She took a deep breath. It’s just business. A deal. Nothing more.
Her hand shook a little as she turned the knob and pushed the door open.
Inside, the room was dim, cozy but intimidating. The walls were covered in deep red velvet, the scent of expensive perfume thick in the air. Everything in the room screamed money and power.
Madam Zee sat behind a massive desk, her sharp eyes locked on Liamh the moment she stepped in. She didn’t smile.
“Sit.”
Liamh swallowed and walked forward, lowering herself into the chair. Her hands felt too cold.
Madam Zee folded her hands together on the desk, tilting her head slightly. “So, you’ve decided?”
Liamh exhaled. “I need the money.”
A smirk pulled at the woman’s lips. “Don’t we all?”
She reached into her drawer, pulled out a thick folder, and slid it across the table. “This deal isn’t for just anyone. The client is… particular.”
Liamh hesitated before picking up the folder. She flipped it open.
The first name she saw made her stomach drop.
Hanson Hill.
Her hands tightened around the file.
No way.
Hanson Hill wasn’t just some rich guy. He was the richest guy. A billionaire. A ruthless businessman who owned half the city.
She forced her voice to stay steady. “I thought this was a couple?”
Madam Zee nodded. “It is. His wife, Anita, can’t carry children. Surrogacy is their only option.”
Liamh swallowed. That makes sense. But still… why her?
As if reading her thoughts, Madam Zee leaned back in her chair. “She chose you herself.”
Liamh blinked. “What? Why?”
“She said you have the right… look.”
Liamh frowned. What the hell did that even mean?
Madam Zee tapped the folder. “The wife approves. But Hanson? He needs convincing.”
A cold feeling ran through Liamh’s chest. Hanson Hill doesn’t seem like a man who’s easily convinced.
“When do I meet him?”
Madam Zee’s lips curled. “Tonight.”
---
That night, Liamh stood outside one of the fanciest restaurants in the city, feeling like she was about to throw up.
Through the glass doors, she could see waiters moving smoothly between tables, serving men and women who looked like they had walked out of some rich people’s magazine.
She glanced down at her dress. Black, simple, nothing too fancy. Sophie had helped her pick it, but standing here now, she still felt completely out of place.
She took a deep breath and stepped inside.
A sharply dressed man immediately walked up to her. “Miss Liamh?”
She nodded.
“Mr. Hill is expecting you. This way.”
Liamh followed him through the restaurant, her heart pounding louder with each step.
And then she saw him.
Hanson Hill.
He sat at a corner table, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He wasn’t even looking at her yet, but the air around him felt heavy.
Even seated, he looked… powerful. Broad shoulders, sharp jawline, eyes cold and unreadable. He looked exactly like the ruthless billionaire the news made him out to be.
Liamh forced herself to move forward.
He didn’t stand. Didn’t smile. He just gestured to the chair across from him.
“Sit.”
His voice was deep, steady.
Liamh sat, trying not to let her nerves show.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
He took a slow sip of his drink, eyes locked on her like he was studying her. Like she was something he needed to figure out.
She hated the way it made her feel.
Finally, he set his glass down. “You’re younger than I expected.”
Liamh straightened. “Is that a problem?”
A small smirk flickered at the corner of his lips. “Not necessarily.”
A waiter appeared with a menu. She barely looked at it.
“You don’t need to pretend to order,” Hanson said, voice calm but firm. “This isn’t a dinner meeting. It’s a decision.”
Liamh closed the menu. Alright. No games.
“Then let’s get to it.”
Hanson leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping against his glass. “You understand what you’re agreeing to?”
She nodded. “I carry your child. Nine months. Then I walk away.”
His expression didn’t change. “And you’re comfortable with that?”
Comfortable? Of course not. But what choice did she have?
“I need the money,” she said again.
Hanson’s jaw tensed. “I don’t like desperation. It makes people reckless.”
Liamh clenched her hands under the table. “Desperation is what makes people commit.” She held his gaze. “I won’t back out.”
Something flickered in his eyes—maybe curiosity. Maybe something else.
“You have medical records?”
“Yes.”
“No family?”
Her chest tightened. “None that matter.”
He nodded, like that answer satisfied him.
Silence stretched between them for a moment. Then he said, “You’ll move into my estate for the duration of the pregnancy.”
Liamh blinked. “What?”
“It’s a requirement.”
“That wasn’t mentioned before.”
“I’m mentioning it now.” His tone was final. No room for argument.
Liamh exhaled, trying to keep her voice calm. “Why?”
He picked up his glass. “I don’t take risks.”
Control. That’s what this was about. He wanted control over everything.
Liamh looked away, focusing on the candle on the table.
Nine months in his house? It sounded crazy.
But Mary.
She clenched her jaw. This was for Mary.
She turned back to him. “Fine.”
Hanson gave a single nod. “The contract will be ready in the morning.”
Liamh stood. “Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Hanson didn’t move. Didn’t shake her hand. Didn’t even say goodbye.
But just as she turned to walk away, his voice stopped her.
“One more thing, Miss Liamh.”
She looked over her shoulder.
His expression was unreadable. “Once you sign, there’s no backing out.”
A shiver ran through her.
She nodded. “I understand.”
And then she walked away.
- Writer
