Back inside the manor, the tension had returned—but this time, it wasn't from Marc.
Liam sat on the couch, fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned bone white. His jaw was locked, his eyes fixed on the carpet in front of him as if it had just insulted him.
Lauren sat beside him, arms crossed, her gaze heavy on his face. She hadn't said anything since she'd finished explaining the true purpose behind Marc's behavior—that the entire exchange had been a baited snare, and Liam had been the real target all along.
And just like she'd feared during the conversation… he'd almost stepped right into it.
She sighed softly, shaking her head.
Liam stood as a paragon of charisma and charm, embodying the ideal of a leader in every sense.
Towering and strikingly handsome, his robust physique was complemented by a composed demeanor that commanded attention wherever he went.
