Page 83 of Sinfully Yours

"We need to talk about the texts," she says.

I nod. "Agreed."

She takes a slow breath. "I think we should be careful. Whoever this is, they're calculated. I don't want to rush into anything and give them the upper hand."

I frown. "Ava?—"

"I mean it, Liam. I know you want to act now, but we have to be smart."

I don't want to be smart. I want to hunt this bastard down and put an end to it. But she's looking at me with this quiet determination, and I realize she's not the same woman I started this arrangement with.

She's thinking things through. Being strategic.

I exhale. "Alright. We'll be cautious."

Her shoulders relax, just a little.

My phone buzzes.

It's Tyler.

Need to meet. Found something. Soon as possible.

I set my mug down. "I need to see Tyler. He's got something."

Ava straightens. "Where?"

"My place." I grab my keys. "Come with me. I don't want you alone."

She hesitates—just for a second—but then she nods.

Once we're ready, I walk her to my car. We get in and I start the engine.

Willow Creek rolls past us in fragments. Cobblestone streets slick from last night's rain, brick storefronts with gold-lettered signs, strings of Edison bulbs still glowing above sleepy cafés. The morning fog clings stubbornly to the river, twisting around the iron bridges like something alive.

The beauty, the quiet… I'd love to appreciate it, the way this town always seems like it belongs in a painting instead of real life.

But I can't.

Because Ava is beside me, staring out the window, chewing her lip, thinking. And when Ava starts thinking too hard, I know I'm about to lose my damn mind.

My hands tighten around the wheel as we pass the Riverwalk District, where her apartment sits above a bookstore with ivy creeping up its brick walls. A few blocks away, the first morning joggers cut through the park, their sneakers slapping against wet pavement. It's a picture-perfect morning, the kind that should belong to people who wake up worrying about coffee orders and dinner plans, not blackmail and burner phones.

But here we are.

"Are you going to talk or just keep brooding?" Ava asks, cutting her gaze toward me.

I exhale through my nose, keeping my eyes on the road. "Not brooding."

She snorts. "Please. You haveBrooding Billionairepractically stamped across your forehead."

I glance at her, biting back a smirk. "Billionaire, huh?"

"Oh, shut up."

The tension in my chest eases for half a second, but then we hit the highway, and I remember where we're going and what we're walking into.

Tyler texted again just before we left. He's waiting at my loft, ready with whatever new lead he's uncovered. I don't like the feeling in my gut—the one that says we're about to step onto even thinner ice.

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