18 A Devious Peace Offering
Liam’s POVI
I slammed the door to my office and loosened my tic. The woman was driving me insane. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t think straight. All because of Hazel Vance and her maddening green
eyes.
“Rough morning?” Damian asked, leaning against my doorframe with a knowing smirk.
I glared at him. “Don’t start.”
Damian walked in and dropped into the chair across from my desk. “Too late. That little scene I walked in on? Pure gold.”
I’ve lost my damn mind,” I muttered, running my hands through my hair.
“Or found something worth losing it for,” Damian countered. “Did she accept your proposition?”
I paced the length of my office. “She’s thinking about it.”
Damian whistled low. “You actually propositioned your assistant for a one–night stand? Bold move, Sterling. Even for you.”
“I had to do something!” I snapped. “This… whatever it is between us… it’s affecting my work.”
“Right. Your work.” Damian’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “Nothing to do with the fact that you want her more than your next breath.”
I stopped pacing and glared at him. “Are you here for a reason? Besides annoying me?”
“Just checking on my best friend who seems to be in the middle of a meltdown over a woman.” Damian leaned forward. “When was the last time anyone got under your skin like this?”
Never. That was the truth, but I wasn’t about to admit it.
“She challenges me,” I said finally. “No filter. No fear. She walked into my office yesterday and deliberately provoked me.”
“And you loved every second of it.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t deny it.
“So what’s your plan if she says no?” Damian asked.
I hadn’t considered that possibility. The thought of Hazel rejecting me made my stomach twist uncomfortably.
“She won’t,” I said with more confidence than I felt.
“And if she does?”
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I sat heavily in my chair. “Then I’ll respect her decision and maintain professional boundaries.”
“Bullshit,” Damian laughed. “You’re not wired that way, my friend. Especially not with her.”
He was right. The mere thought of Hazel with someone else–like that assistant Owen who’d taken her to lunch–made my blood boil.
“I need to regain control, I admitted. “She’s making me lose it.”
“Why fight it? Just go with it.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. Not after what happened before…
Damian’s expression softened. “Not every woman is going to be like Chelsea.”
The name of my ex still stung after all these years. The woman who’d claimed to love me but only wanted access to my family’s fortune. The woman I’d almost proposed to before discovering her betrayal.
“This isn’t about Chelsea,” I lied.
“Isn’t it? You’ve kept everyone at arm’s length since then. Damian stood up. “Look, I’m not saying marry the girl. But maybe stop treating this like a war you need to win.”
After Damian left, I stared out the window at the Manhattan skyline. He didn’t understand. This was a war–one where losing meant giving up control I couldn’t afford to surrender. If Hazel was going to push me, I would push back harder,
I picked up my phone and dialed. “Janet, I need you to go shopping for me.”
An hour later, 1 held a small gift bag containing my latest tactical move. Inside was a delicate black lace thong wrapped in silver tissue paper. A replacement for what I’d destroyed–and at message that our game was just beginning.
I smiled to myself. Two could play at this game of provocation.
When I returned to the office, I spotted a slice of chocolate cake sitting on Hazel’s empty desk.
Perfect.
“Ms. Vance,” I called out, watching her head snap up from her computer screen. “I need those financial reports for the Peterson account. They should be in the archives on the fortieth floor.”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t recall any Peterson account in my files.”
“That’s because Evelyn handled it before you arrived,” I replied smoothly. “Ask the archivist for
file P–478.”
“Of course, Mr. Sterling.” She stood, smoothing her skirt. “I’ll retrieve them right away.”
As soon as the elevator doors closed behind her, I walked over to her desk and picked up the cake. I knew for a fact there was no Peterson account, and no such file number. The wild goose
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chase would keep her occupied just long enough.
Back in my office, I waited. Twenty minutes later, my phone buzzed.
“The archivist can’t locate file P–478,” Hazel’s voice came through the speaker.
“How frustrating” I replied, barely suppressing a smile. “Come to my office when you return. We need to discuss the quarterly projections.”
When she finally entered my office, her cheeks were flushed from rushing between floors.
“I apologize, Mr. Sterling. The file couldn’t be located.
“Don’t worry about it. I must have confused the reference number. I gestured to the chair across from me. “Please, sit. We have work to do.”
For the next hour, I kept her engaged in actual, productive work. I watched her relax gradually, falling into the rhythm of our professional dynamic. She was undeniably competent–another quality that attracted me to her.
“I think we’ve covered everything,” I said finally, leaning back in my chair.
Relief flashed across her face. “Will there be anything else, sir?”
“Just one thing” I reached for the plate beside me. “Would you like some cake? It’s quite delicious.”
Her eyes widened as she recognized her missing dessert. “That’s my cake.”
“Is it?” I asked innocently, taking a deliberate bite. “I found it unattended.”
Her green eyes narrowed dangerously. “You sent me on a wild goose chase to steal my cake?”
“Steal‘ is such a strong word,” I replied, taking another bite. “Consider it… reallocation of
resources”
“You are impossible,” she muttered, her hands clenching in her lap.
I couldn’t help but smile at her frustration. “Before you go, I have something for you.”
I pulled out the small gift bag from my desk drawer and placed it between us.
“What’s this?” Suspicion laced her voice.
“A peace offering” I explained. “To replace what was… damaged during our previous encounter.”
Confusion flickered across her features as she hesitantly took the bag. Her fingers brushed against the tissue paper but didn’t pull it out.
“Open it later, I suggested. “In private.”
Her eyes met mine, wariness battling curiosity. “Why are you doing this?”
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I leaned forward, dropping my voice to a near whisper. “Because every game needs clear stakes. And make no mistake, Hazel–this is definitely a game.”
Her breath hitched slightly. “And if I don’t want to play?”
“You already are. I leaned back in my chair. “That will be all, Ms. Vance.”
As she stood to leave, clutching the gift bag, I admired the graceful curve of her spine, the proud set of her shoulders. She paused at the door, turning to look at me one last time.
“Thank you for the… peace offering, Mr. Sterling,” she said carefully. “But don’t think for a second this means you’ve won!”
1 smiled slowly as the door closed behind her. Let the games begin.
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