Page 27 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO
I let out a slow breath, my anger simmering dangerously beneath the surface.
Six months. Half a year of enduring her presence, of knowing she is merely steps away. The thought gnaws at me, a bitter taste I can’t spit out.
“You expect too much, Richard,” I mutter, the anger simmering just below the surface. But I know it is futile. I have lost this battle for now.
“Be that as it may, sir,” he replies, his voice firm but professional. “The terms are set. There is nothing I can do.”
I stare out the window, the bourbon doing nothing to quell the heat crawling up my spine. Her presence lingers like smoke - unwelcome, suffocating.
Six months. God help me.
****
The sharp chime of the doorbell drags me out of sleep, yanking me from the edge of a dream I cannot quite remember. I groan, pressing the heel of my hand to my eyes. I glance at the clock on the bedside table - 7:15 a.m. Who in the hell…?
The bell rings again, insistent this time.
Grabbing a T-shirt from the chair, I pull it on as I head for the front door, muttering under my breath. When I yank it open, I am met with a wide, beaming grin and a face far too chipper for the hour.
Cara, my baby sister, leans on the door frame with a packet of chips in hand. She is dressed in an oversized hoodie, leggings, and a mischievous sparkle in her eyes that only siblings seem to perfect.
"Good morning, big bro!" She chirps, brushing past me like she owns the place. Her caramel-colored ponytail swishes as she heads straight for the kitchen.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and follow. "Cara, it’s not even eight. What are you doing here?"
She grabs an apple from the counter and takes a dramatic bite. "Well, someone had to make sure you weren’t turning into a grumpy hermit. Oh wait…, too late."
I glare at her, but she just laughs and drops onto one of the barstools. “You look terrible, by the way. Sleep well?”
I shut the door behind her with a heavy thud. “It was peaceful until now.”
“Aw, poor Liam,” she teases, batting her lashes like she cares. She is already kicking off her sneakers, tossing them in a way that makes my eye twitch.
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” I mutter, but there is no bite in it. Cara’s always been like this - a storm that barrels in, makes noise, and leaves me cleaning up after her.
She flashes me a grin, twirling the apple around. “Nope. Thought I would grace you with my presence today. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Stop playing with your food.”
“Okay, mom”
“Cara,” I say, grabbing a glass of water. “Why are you here?”
“I missed you,” she says sweetly, now grabbing a banana, her already opened chips forgotten. “Plus, Dad said I should check on you. Make sure you are not turning into a hermit or something.”
I snort. “I am fine. And you could have called instead of showing up unannounced.”
“Oh, but then I wouldn’t get to see your grumpy, just-woke-up face.” She flashes me a teasing grin. “It’s a real treat, you know.”
“Delightful,” I deadpan, running a hand through my hair. “Now, what do you want, Cara? Because I know, you, visiting this early, means you want something, so spit it out.”
She clasps her hands together dramatically. “Can’t I visit my favorite brother just because I love him?”
I arch a brow.
“Okay, fine,” she grins, already heading toward the back door. “I want to pick a flower from your garden. That big red one by the pathway. It is pretty. You know, for inspiration. My art project is due next week.”
“No,” I say flatly.
