Page 25 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO
His hand twitches at his side, like he is holding himself back from saying something he might regret. Instead, he exhales sharply through his nose, his gaze flickering over me with an edge that feels like it could slice through steel.
“Why are you even here?” He finally asks, his tone a mix of suspicion and exasperation.
I shrug, keeping my posture defiant even as my heart pounds in my chest. “Why does it matter to you? Last I checked, you do not get a say in where I live.”
“I do when it’s my estate,” he snaps.
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and charged. For a second, all I can do is blink at him, my brain scrambling to process what he just said.
“Wait,” I say slowly, drawing out the word like I am trying to solve a riddle.
The words hit like a slap. “You…, what? You…, own this estate?”
“Yes,” he bites out. “Every inch of it, including the guest house.”
My stomach churns, but I manage to keep my face neutral. Of course, he owns the estate. Because life just loves to throw curveballs at me.
“You live here?”
“Why wouldn’t I? It is my estate. That…,” pointing to the glass house I have spent hours at night admiring, “Is where I live.”
Of all the places I could have ended up, it had to be here, right next door to him.
“Well,” I say, forcing a tight smile, “isn’t this just the universe’s idea of a joke?”
“No,” he says, his voice flat, “just bad luck. For me, apparently.”
I take a slow, measured breath, trying not to let the frustration bubbling inside me explode all over him. “Wow, poor you. Must be exhausting - carrying around that giant victim complex everywhere you go.”
He steps closer, and for a moment, the tension between us feels less like annoyance and more like an electric charge. His dark eyes, intense and unwavering, lock onto mine, and I cannot help but notice the way his sharp jaw clenches. The light from the setting sun catches on the faint stubble dusting his skin, and despite myself, I think how unfair it is that someone so frustrating can look and smell so..., good. The kind of good thatleaves a knot twisting low in my stomach, one I do not want to acknowledge.
He opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of a car horn close by turns his attention to me for a second. A well-appreciated second.
“Look,” I say, “trust me, Liam, the last thing I want is to beanywherenear you.”
He steps closer, and I instinctively take a step back, but his gaze does not waver. “Good,” he says, his voice cool and emotionless. “The feeling is mutual. Let us keep it that way.”
I glare at him, my fists clenching at my sides. “Do not worry. I will not be sticking around any longer than I have to.”
“Good,” he says, his tone dismissive.
“Great,” I snapped.
The silence between us crackles, neither of us willing to look away first. Finally, I let out a sharp breath and turn on my heel, walking toward the guest house with as much dignity as I could muster. His gaze burns into my back, but I don’t look over my shoulder.
The second that I am inside, I immediately dial Richard’s number. The line barely had time to ring before he answered.
“Hazel, hi! Is everything okay?”
“No,” I said sharply. “You didn’t mention that Liam Callahan owns the estate and that he’s also my neighbor…, or rather, I’m his neighbor.”
“Same thing.” There was a pause. “Oh…, well, I did not think it’d be an issue. Is it?”
“Well, it is,” I snapped. “Is there any way I can get another apartment now? Or get out of the lease?”
“I’m so sorry, Hazel,” he says, his tone annoyingly chipper. “As I said, all available units are currently occupied, and backing out now would mean forfeiting your deposit.”
“Great. Simply great.”
