Page 42 of Sinfully Yours

The slight parting of her lips, the barely-there widening of her eyes… She already knows. There's no need to say it. The truth has settled between us, unspoken but understood.

She leans back, her head resting against the seat, gaze flickering toward the windshield as the silence thickens, stretching long and heavy. The air between us shifts, not quite tense, but filled with the weight of what isn't being said.

Then, finally, she exhales, turning back to me, green eyes steady, lined with quiet anger. "I can handle her."

A dry, almost bitter laugh escapes before I can stop it. "That's what I thought once."

Ava doesn't flinch, doesn't look away. "And what happened?"

The truth is, Vanessa didn't just leave a scar. She left a blueprint. One she could use to burn my life down again.

One I refuse to let touch Ava.

Her voice is softer when she speaks again. "Liam… I need to know."

I look at her.

Really look at her.

And I realize, in that moment, that I'm completely screwed.

Because she's not going to let this go.

9

AVA

Liam doesn't answer.

His silence stretches between us, thick as smoke, curling into the crevices of the car, settling in my lungs, making it impossible to breathe. His grip tightens on the wheel, knuckles pale, jaw set like stone. He won't look at me, won't say a damn thing, and that tells me more than any half-hearted excuse ever could.

I shake my head, the sharp edge of anger slicing through my chest. "Unbelievable." My fingers fumble with the seatbelt, frustration mounting, heat rising beneath my skin. "You just expect me to sit here and accept that? That I don't need to know anything? That whatever Vanessa meant—whatever you're hiding—is just fine staying buried?"

Nothing.

Liam exhales through his nose, slow and measured, like he's forcing himself to stay calm. But that muscle in his jaw jumps, betraying him. He's tense. He's frustrated. And most of all, he's still not talking.

That's it. I'm done.

I shove the car door open and step out, the cool night air biting at my skin, sharp against the heat crawling up my spine. He calls my name, but I don't stop. My heels click against the pavement, each step carrying me further away from the stifling weight of his silence.

"Ava."

His voice is steady, but there's something underneath it. A warning, or perhaps a plea.

I don't turn around. "Go home, Liam."

I half expect him to argue, to chase after me, to grab my wrist and make me look at him. But he doesn't.

And somehow, that's worse.

So, I do the only thing I can and follow the advice I gave him.

Night comes, but I don't sleep.

I try. God, I try. I curl under my blankets, press my face into the pillow, and count every damn crack in my ceiling. But my brain won't stop. It keeps circling back, over and over, to the gala, to Vanessa, to Liam's face when she asked him if I knew what he was hiding.

And the worst part?

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