Page 32 of Sinfully Yours

I know Liam. I know how quick he is with a smirk, how easily he can turn any situation into a joke. But right now?

Right now, he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Liam," I say carefully, shifting closer. "What aren't you telling me?"

His gaze snaps to mine, something steely locking into place. "Leave it alone, Ava."

The words land between us, sharp and final, and all they do is make me more determined.

Liam's tone wasn't just dismissive—it was a wall, one slammed between us with enough force to knock the breath out of me. I shouldn't care about that, shouldn't feel the sharp edge of it like a blade sliding between my ribs.

But I do.

And when I step back, letting the space stretch between us, I know he notices.

Because his face shifts immediately, like he didn't mean to let it slip, like he's already regretting it. "Ava." His voice is softer now, almost careful.

I force a shrug, even though my stomach is twisting. "No, I get it."

He exhales, raking a hand through his hair before stepping closer, voice lower now. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Seemed like you did."

His gaze locks onto mine, and for a second, I think he's going to argue. But then, instead of some sarcastic retort or a half-assed deflection, he just sighs. "I'm sorry."

That throws me off more than anything else.

Liam Carter doesn't apologize. Not easily. And definitely not when he thinks he's right.

But this? This sounds real.

I swallow. "You don't have to?—"

"I do." He watches me for a beat, something unreadable in his expression. "I just… I don't want you caught up in this."

Something tightens in my chest. "Too late for that."

His jaw tics, like he knows I'm right but hates it anyway. "Just… there are things you're better off not knowing, Bennett."

And then, he takes a slow step back.

"Do you want me to drop you home?"

Suddenly, my throat hurts from holding back all the words I want to say to him. But all I manage is a tiny shake of my head. "No," I say, tearing my gaze away from him to stare at the grass like it's the most interesting thing in the world. "I'm fine. You go. I'll see you tomorrow."

He stays in place for a second, and then he turns away from me. I don't think I can handle further scrutiny from my brothers, so I do the best thing I can—I leave and go home.

Of course, this doesn't feel like the best thing when I notice the six missed calls from Dean or the voice note from Ryan.

I ignore everything and sit on my bed, cross-legged, my laptop balanced on my thighs as I scroll through every article, social media post, and whisper of information I can find on Vanessa Chase.

And it's… a lot.

Nothing about her is subtle. Her Instagram is a curated masterpiece of high fashion, exclusive art exhibits, and power lunches with people whose net worths could probably fund small countries. If you didn't know better, you'd think she was nothing more than a glamorous, successful woman with an enviable lifestyle.

But I do know better.

And if you look hard enough, the cracks are there.

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