UNDER HIS ROOF
570 Words
Chapter Eight: Under His Roof
The elevator ride to Liam’s penthouse felt endless. Luna stood beside him, clutching her bag tightly, trying not to stare — but failing miserably.
He didn’t speak, didn’t even glance her way. Yet the air between them crackled, filled with everything they weren’t saying.
When the doors opened, she stepped into another world. The penthouse was vast — floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, sleek furniture in shades of charcoal and silver, and an atmosphere that screamed power and control.
“This place…” she breathed.
“Safer than your apartment,” he said simply, setting his keys down. “No one gets in without my permission.”
Luna turned to him, still uneasy. “You really think I’m in danger?”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t think. I know.”
She wanted to ask more, but his tone told her the conversation was over. He walked toward the bar, poured a glass of whiskey, and downed it in one slow motion.
“You can take the guest room,” he said without looking at her. “It’s down the hall. Second door on the right.”
Luna hesitated, watching him — the way his shoulders seemed heavier tonight, the tension in his movements. “And you?”
“I don’t sleep much.”
Something in her chest ached. “Liam… you don’t always have to carry everything alone.”
He finally looked up, eyes burning into hers. “If I don’t, people die.”
The words hit like a slap. She took a step closer before she even realized it. “You think that’s all you are — a weapon. But I’ve seen more than that. You protect people. You protected me.”
He gave a small, humorless smile. “You make it sound noble.”
“It is,” she whispered.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “You should rest, Luna. Tomorrow we’ll talk about moving you somewhere more secure.”
“I’m not leaving,” she said quietly.
He looked up sharply. “What?”
“I’m not running from whoever this is. I’m staying until this is over — with you.”
Something flickered behind his eyes. Admiration. Fear. Want.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Maybe I do.”
Silence filled the space — the kind that made her heartbeat echo in her ears. Then Liam stepped closer, slow, deliberate, until there was barely a breath between them.
“Tell me to stop,” he said lowly.
She didn’t. Couldn’t.
His hand brushed against her cheek, rough fingers tracing her skin. Her breath caught. For a moment, she thought he’d finally kiss her — but instead, he leaned in close enough for his breath to warm her ear.
“Go to bed, Luna.”
Her knees nearly gave way.
He turned and walked away, his control razor-sharp, every step radiating the tension he refused to release.
Luna stood there long after he disappeared down the hall, her heart pounding like it wanted to escape her chest.
She didn’t understand what was happening between them — only that she was already too deep.
And as she finally fell asleep that night, she didn’t see the shadow standing on the rooftop opposite Liam’s penthouse — watching, waiting.
The war for Liam Moretti’s empire had just begun.
- Writer
