Chapter 3

Emma Johnson pov

The bouncer at the club didn't stop me.

He knew who I was and that Liam allowed me to enter.

But my photographer was stopped outside, the reason being that private clubs prohibited all photography.

I had to tell him to wait in the car.

As soon as I stepped inside, eyes immediately fell on me, filled with surprise and curiosity.

But soon, Liam's bodyguard personally came to greet me, leading me up to the second floor.

Those strange looks quickly turned into respect.

I didn't understand how Liam managed to command such respect everywhere he went.

He was just a wealthy man with a terrible personality.

The private room door opened. The air inside was thick with smoke and heavy with the smell of alcohol.

A group of Liam's friends were laughing with their female companions. When they saw me enter, the room quieted for a moment, then erupted in louder jeers.

"Isn't that Emma? Long time no see!"

"Wow, you've got a lot of pull! Haven't seen her in three days, and now she's here checking up on you?"

The man sitting on the central sofa was wearing a black shirt, two buttons undone at the collar.

He was toying with a lighter, its flame flickering on and off, illuminating his sharply chiseled face—a face that could make countless women fall head over heels.

Liam Smith.

He leaned back lazily against the chair, his gaze cutting through the crowd and landing on me.

His eyes lingered on me for a moment, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly before smoothing out. He then patted the empty spot beside him.

"Come here."

It was like he was calling a well-trained pet.

Before, I would've meekly walked over, sat down, poured him a drink, and done whatever he told me.

But this time, I resisted the urge to obey.

"Mr. Smith, I'm in a hurry. Can we do the interview here?"

I pulled out my equipment.

"About fifteen minutes."

The atmosphere in the room instantly turned cold.

Everyone exchanged glances.

Liam's hand, toying with the lighter, paused. The lid snapped shut.

His eyes, in the dim light, turned silver, but quickly reverted to blue, as if it had just been my imagination.

"Emma, what's with the act?"

"Mr. Smith, you're mistaken."

I turned on my voice recorder, looking him straight in the eye.

"It's just work. If it's inconvenient, we can reschedule or have someone else come."

With that, I started to pack up my things.

"Stop."

Liam's face hardened. He slammed his glass on the table, making a sharp clinking sound.

"Everyone out."

He waved his hand at the others.

Though curious, no one dared to push their luck. They all filed out with their companions, but as they passed me, their eyes held curious, almost theatrical gazes.

The private room door closed.

Only the two of us remained in the vast space.

The lights were dim, the air thick with expensive cologne and stale cigarette smoke.

Liam stood up and walked towards me, step by step.

He was tall, intensely intimidating.

He leaned down, close to my face, his warm breath fanning my ear:

"Still mad about that morning? Didn't I say Ethan would send you a card? Not enough money?"

I took a half-step back, avoiding his breath.

"I didn't take the card. It's already been mailed back to your company's front desk."

I looked up.

"Liam, that day was an accident. We're both adults; let's just move on. I'm only here today for work."

"Move on?"

Liam laughed as if he'd heard a joke, then suddenly reached out and squeezed my chin.

"Emma, you chased me for eight years, why are you pretending to be so carefree now? I don't believe you don't feel anything for me. That night, you clearly…"

"That was because of the drugs."

I cut him off.

"Mr. Smith, I'm resigning. This exclusive interview is my last task at this company. After I finish this, I'm leaving London. From now on, we shouldn't meet again."

Liam's fingers tightened abruptly, with so much force it made me wince.

"Leaving London? Going where?"

A beast's growl seemed to rise in his throat, sounding incredibly dangerous.

"That's none of your business."

"To avoid me?"

A flicker of anger flared in Liam's eyes.

"Emma, are you serious? Just because I didn't give you a title? You never used to care about that."

"I was foolish before."

I forcefully pried his hand open, took two steps back, and smoothed out my wrinkled collar.

"Now I understand. A great family heir like you isn't suited for an ordinary human like me. I apologize for any past intrusions. It won't happen again."

An ordinary human? He'd said something similar that day.

The wording was strange, but I figured I must have misheard him.

I raised my voice recorder again:

"Mr. Smith, my first question is about the Smith Group's strategic layout for the next quarter…"

Liam stared at me.

He was so furious he laughed, sitting back on the sofa, lighting a cigarette, his gaze dark and brooding.

"Fine, very good. You want an interview? Ask away. I'd like to see how long you can keep up this act."