Love isn't a game

Liam Morgan stood by the massive windows in his corner office, his reflection faintly superimposed over the s

Miss Whitmore

thought he'd buried. Liam inhaled slowly, forcing the tension out of h

his voice smooth but t

licking on the polished hardwood. She was poised, her chin held high, and her sm

her voice laced with an a

ch-still radiating the same confidence that once made her untouchab

er of his mouth lifting into a cal

slightly, her smile fa

air in front of his des

r a beat longer than necessary before circling his desk and sitting down. He picked up her resu

department," he began, his tone detached, almost bore

htly. "I believe my exper

d a brow.

k eye contact. "I've worked hard to ge

don't doubt your capability, Miss W

uickly masked by a forced smil

say I remember a time when you thrived on making others feel small

ace hardened, the professional

she said, her voice low bu

is head. "Or do they just get be

ould see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers gripped the str

e?" he asked abruptly,

caught off guar

ard now, his voice softer but no less po

she once tormented had been quiet, unassuming, easy to dismiss. This ma

defensive. "I applied because it's one of the best in the industry. My ski

er. "And now that you

ifted her chin. "I'm no

inder of their shared history. Liam's smirk

ter a moment. "Fea

reply. Liam stood, walking to the wind

nday," he said,

ha

on unreadable. "You wan

at, her confusion evid

didn't reach his eye

decipher his motives. But Liam gave nothing away, his

said finally, h

he replied. "This is

couldn't quite name. Then, without another word, she tur

d her, Liam exhaled slow

ve really grown, Hazel,

s of the city skyline, the