Page 15 of Broken Desires

“Where the fuck is Eva?” His voice carries a dark edge I’m not a fan of. This is usually when his volatile nature takes over, and mistakes are made.

Nessa glances at Poppy.

“She… uh, she couldn’t make it. She’s sick,” Poppy stammers, and I wince.

Is she really that bad of a liar? She should not even bother.

Cole’s eyes narrow, and I steel myself for the familiar task of playing the mediator. But, to my surprise, Ethan steps in with a calm, authoritative tone.

“It’s alright, Cole. Let’s not ruin the evening over this.” He shoots Poppy an apologetic look, and I realize he’s the one with the most to lose tonight.

Cole’s jaw clenches, his gaze darting behind us, calculating and tense. I’m about to intervene, to try and dissuade him from whatever course he’s contemplating, but he turns sharply and strides away.

I should follow, try to reason with him, but the magnetic pull of the woman next to me holds me back. Nessa’s voice cuts through the tension, “What’s up with Small Prick?” Her casual jab at Cole lightens the mood, drawing an amused look from Ethan. “I’m sure he only needs to snap his fingers to have ten desperate girls at his feet.”

“I thought I was Small Prick,” Ethan quips, his posture relaxing.

Nessa’s smirk is mischievous. “You’re all Small Prick,” she says, her gaze drifting to me. My heart races under her scrutiny. “Except you. I honestly hope you’re not.”

Challenge accepted. Tonight, I’m not Liam Ashford with burdens and expectations. I’m just Liam, ready for whatever comes. I offer my arm with a grin. “One way to find out.”

She doesn’t expect the return of banter, and the way she catches her breath creates a dip at the base of her throat that I long to kiss.

Get a grip, man! I chastise myself as we turn around and go up the marble stairs to join the party.

“I’m sorry for the drama,” I tell her as we walk in, but she ignores me, probably taken aback by how ostentatious the room decoration is.

“Vanessa?” I brush my fingers on her shoulder, and she turns toward me with wonder.

“I’m sorry, I… just… what did you say?” she asks with a sheepish smile, but I can feel the way she tenses under my touch, and it’s like she’s bracing herself. My gaze lingers on her, noting the slight stiffening of her posture, a guarded look flashing briefly in her eyes. It’s a subtle tell, hinting at something concealed beneath her poised exterior. I feel a tug of curiosity, an inexplicable need to uncover her mystery, even if I know it’s hypocritical in the grand scheme of things because I’m hiding something myself.

“I was just apologizing for the drama outside,” I repeat, my voice softening when she meets my gaze, her eyes a mix of emotions, and I’m struck by the vulnerability there.

Her smile wavers slightly, a fleeting moment of uncertainty crossing her features. “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s not like you can control Cole’s mood swings.”

I nod, but her response doesn’t fully dismiss the nagging feeling inside me.

“Let’s focus on enjoying tonight,” I suggest, steering the conversation away from the tension. “After all, it’s not every day we get to dress up and attend a fancy ball.”

She laughs, the sound light and genuine, and for a moment, the weight of unspoken secrets seems to lift. “You’re right. Let’s make the most of it.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and I can’t help but be drawn in by her spirit.

As we step into the grand ballroom, surrounded by a sea of elegance, Vanessa’s presence outshines everything. The music and chatter blend into a lively symphony, setting the stage for our flirtatious exchange.

“Seeing you in that dress,” I begin, my voice low and playful, “makes me think some risks are worth taking.”

Her eyes meet mine, dancing with amusement. “Is that so? And what kind of risks are we talking about, Mr. Ashford?”

I lean in slightly, our conversation a private world amid the bustling ballroom. “The kind that makes a man forget his manners,” I reply, a hint of daring in my tone.

She tilts her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I hope you’re not too much of a gentleman.”

“The night is young,” I quip, “and I’ve always found mischief to be… quite intriguing.”

The corners of her lips curl up in a knowing smile. “Then perhaps you’ll let me lead you into temptation.”

As we find a spot near the dance floor, there’s an electric current in the air. She looks up at me, her eyes locked on mine, and it’s not just playful anymore; there’s a depth, an invitation.

Extending my hand, I offer, “Shall we dance? Or are you worried I might be too much of a distraction?”

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