"The story," I say. "I want to hear it from the beginning. What happened? How and when did you lose your phone?"

Liam grins. "Interrogation time?"

"Yes, Mr. Suspect."

"No longer Intense? I fancy that one much better.

"Shut up. You don't get to choose." I smother a laugh.

"Okay." Liam sits straight. We are back on the bed. "I don't know how exactly I lost it, but it was in the hospital, I believe. I only learned about the loss when I returned to the hotel and my head was already in a mess. And well, the next day in New York was quite hectic. I had no time to do anything but work. I used the office line most of the time but I had someone track my phone."

"And you chose to completely ignore me, right?" I mumble under my breath. Liam sighs sadly, his eyes calm and remorseful. "I mean, you didn't even care how I felt or anything like that? Liam, I was a wreck thinking you've abandoned me. I went crazy when I heard you've left the hotel. And you're only here because of Sam's call?" It really breaks my heart.

"That's not true," he strongly argues. "Being here right now has nothing to do with Samantha's call, at all. In fact, I was supposed to be here the night before but I couldn't because I had to wait for my mother to finish her own business."

"Mrs. Eleanor? You were together?"

"Yes. As we're speaking she's in Los Angeles as well. We arrived together, and I'm sure she's dying to see you right now." He smiles playfully while stroking my cheek.

"Oh?" I blush right away. I miss her.

"Kira." Liam takes my hands into his. "If I had any intentions of leaving you, why would I be back here? What for? Because I honestly don't have that free time to fly back and forth between the States of America," he tells me, and it's exactly what I thought last night.

"Fair point. And . . . Well, fine. I'll let it pass. Now tell me, how is your mother? And where is she staying?" I ask with a giddy grin.

"Same hotel," he answers. "And speaking of which, I think we should get up because she is leaving this evening."

"Already?" Disappointment washes over me.

Liam's lips stretch into a gladden smile. "She only wanted to see my girlfriend, it appears."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Ms. Jones. Come." He sighs tiredly but he looks very well-rested for me to worry about him. "Well, I was surprised to see Samantha's call. I'm glad you two have fixed your differences—correct me if I misinterpreted things."

"Yes. Thank God." I smile sheepishly at him from the corner of my bed where I can watch him to my heart's content. "And . . . I wanted to clear things about Jeremy."

His face distorts into a hint of displeasure, and it forces me to hurl toward him.

"Liam, I only did what I thought was right. I had no intention of setting him free as you thought. I've come to terms with my past and all the trauma, and I've never felt as peaceful as I am today," I say calmly, looking at him deeply in the eyes. "The last thing I need is having a misunderstanding with my boyfriend over someone undeserving. He's a bad memory but you're my beautiful reality. Why should I get stuck to him now? I just—"

"Shhh." Liam places his index on my lips, hushing me. I blink at him with a rattled smile. "I understand. I think I hated the fact that you left on your own, instead of letting me be by your side when you went to see him. Also, he could've gotten medical attention even if you didn't . . ."

"Drop the charges?" I finished his sentence. He retreats back from the remnants of his pure grudge against Jeremy. "Liam, I didn't drop the charges. I only explained how everything happened that evening and I feel like he's someone to be locked up in a hospital before he loses control again and hurts someone else."

"Yeah, I guess it's true that he does have mental issues that his family tried to conceal," Liam says vaguely and my eyes narrow in a bemused fashion. He stifles a smile. "Yes, I ran a background check on him, Kira. I wanted to lock him up in any way I can and I still do."

"Liam . . ." I murmur in a lamenting voice while jostling toward him. "He's not worth it, okay? I just want us to forget him altogether. I want to erase my memories with him."

"But if he gets near you, I swear I'll kill him with my two hands. I'm not a softie like you, Kira," Liam warns, and his asperity manners make me sit up straight. "I am serious. I want him as far away as possible."

Oh boy! Going all ballistic and overprotective, aren't we? Why do I find him hotter this way?

"Okay, Liam," I say. "After all, I'll be moving to a highly secured house, right? Or the offer is already invalid?" I decide to change the subject while fluttering his male ego altogether by accepting his arrangement to have me leave this apartment.

As I imagined, Liam's face lights up immediately. Bullseye!

"You're agreeing to move, is that it?" He looks like an overly excited little boy who's managed to build his own toy car, eyes glowing splendidly.

"Yes." I nod wistfully. "If it makes you feel at ease, I'll do as you want. After all these days of horror, I don't want us to argue over trifling matters anymore, Liam. I'm not sure how our relationship will go on, but I want us to have an understanding."

Liam doesn't do anything but pulls me for a tight hug. He seems very elated that I can't understand what's with men and their attitude to get their way in everything.

But as long as it makes him happy, I am happy.

"I love taking care of my woman. It's in my blood, Kira, so don't ever deny me the right to do that," Liam whispers before kissing my hair.

"If you keep spoiling me, I'll end up a brat." I melt like a burning candle until my body fits in his full embrace, hoisting myself to sit on his lap.

"It is not a bother, so long as you're my brat," he replies in that British intonation that dampens my knicker. "Mine, Kira. I don't share."

"Yours. But I don't share either," I whisper with a flutter of stubborn butterflies in my tummy, and heat sears through me the moment our lips collide, my breasts crushed and smashed by his corded chest muscles. "I'm hungry," I breathe after the kiss.

"Are you hungry for food, Ms. Jones, or something else?" Liam asks with a wicked grin.

"Maybe both, but something else will do for now," I breathe, grinding my bottom on his bulging erection, frustrating him. "And I think you're hard, Mr. Darcy. Bad boy!"

"And you're good? Let's see," Liam grunts while sliding his hand under my butt, searching for my entrance. Excitement fills me and I wiggle like a worm, and swiftly I feel him at the junction of my things. Slick and wet for him. "Not good at all. You're prodigiously bad."

I whine a moan as he's only getting started.

A moment later we are both awake and it's bright late morning. Okay, we surely make a dangerously bad combination when it comes to sex. He touches me and I crumble in pieces that he picks and rearrange with pleasure. I've lost count of the mind-shattering orgasms I've had since this Englishman stepped through the doors with a sorry look.

Can I even walk properly? 'Cause damn, God has endowed him with a plausible dick—not that I've tasted, or desire to taste any other—and I find him utterly enough.

"Shall we go out for brunch?" I ask Liam while drawing circles on his chest, my body trapped in the shield of his warm arms. "I'm out of food in my little pantry, and I'm dying to see your mother."

"Fine by me. But I desperately need a shower," Liam says, and my tummy growls without a warning.

"Oh boy." I laugh innocently, my puppy eyes into a cute stare.

Shame on you! My subconscious scoffs, her feminine reputation tarnished despicably.

"Why are you laughing?" Liam stares at me inquisitively. I shrug. "Oh, it's that frog-like stomach of yours, huh?" he teases as we clamber off the bed.

"It wasn't me," I deny profusely, messing with my boyfriend's playful mood. What a great way to start a day. "I think it was you, Liam Darcy." I grab his shirt and ease myself in it.

"What?" Liam sounds highly defamed. "For goodness' sake, Kira, my stomach has such fine manners. However, I cannot say the same thing about yours."

I burst into laughter.

Sometimes I wish life was this simple. You meet someone you never knew existed, you spend time with them, and realize they're actually another part of you; part that completes you, just like a missing piece of puzzle, and you live happily ever after.

But unfortunately reality is far beyond that.

There's a price to pay in the road of happiness; it doesn't come as free as it sounds. In order to be happy you have to be sad first, and it's possible that the cycle is never-ending. It's just the law of life, I guess, and that sweetness must couple the bitterness.

That fine line between two opposites is what we call living.

Moments later we finish taking a bath and finally return to the bedroom. I feel like I can properly breathe now, my body rejuvenated, my mind invigorated. The perfect harmony. Other than missing Mr. Intense, I think I missed myself too; for I've been like a zombie for a good while, except that my brain wasn't frozen yet.

Smiling, I sit down in front of the dressing table, per Liam's order. So bossy! I suck in a deep breath, watching his breathtaking frame hovering shirtless, the contours of his majestic body so patent as the jeans hangs about his waist, and I know he's wearing nothing inside. Oh, my poor hormones! I bind my legs instinctively, my insides twitching.

Fuck, when did I become this slutty! My subconscious contorts her face, giving me a nasty glare that says 'as if you don't know', and I just bite my lip, waiting for whatever Liam has for me.

"What are you looking for?" I end up querying, watching him tugging the upper drawer of my dresser.

"This." He grabs the drier out of nowhere and a childish smile spreads on my face. "What were you imagining?" He licks his bottom lip knowingly.

This bastard! I shake my head timidly.

"Are you going to dry my hair?" I ask softly, staring fondly at him.

"Yeah." He nods.

My smile widens at one of the most emblazoned memories of my childhood. I vividly remember how my dad used to dry my hair back in time, whenever my mom was away. She worked as a flight attendant which explains my deeper bond with my father compared to her.

I wish I had more time with her as she's hardly in my dreams and memories.

"Okay, Ms. Jones, let's dry you up." Liam is standing behind me, the blow dryer roaring with warm hair that spreads closer to my skin.

"Yes, Sir." My ass wiggles against the stool as I sit properly.

Via the mirror I see Liam shaking his head, amused. "Your hair is one of my favorite features of yours."

"Thank you," I breathe, my cheeks flushing an uncertain shade of red.

His unwavering compliments never cease to embolden me.

"Sit still, Curly," he snaps at my writhing behind.

"Alright! Jeez, you're so grumpy!' I chuckle childishly, trying hard to please his daddy mood.

"Yeah. Maybe there's something wild with curly haired girls. So stubborn!" he cajoles me.

"What! Girls?" I huff. Has he dated a curly haired woman before?

No, I'm not jealous . . . am I?

"Stop imagining things, Kira!" Liam utters apprehensively, laughing, his hands busy shuffling my hair as he starts blow-drying them. "You're the first and certainly the last, Curly." He grins at me through the mirror, and I flush again.

No, he can't be a mind reader, can he? How does he know what I'm thinking of all the time? Am I such an open book?

And hold on! Curly? My mind jumps at this little name that stirs me even more, turning my imagination wild.

"What did you just call me, Liam?" I cock my head briskly to face him.

"What?" He frowns.

"The name you used just a moment ago, Liam. What was it?"

"Curly?" he says, smiling indulgently. "You have curly hair, Ms. Jones, so you're Curly."

"Oh." I turn back to the mirror, and my mind spins in circles when I recall my nightmares of the accident scene.

The little boy called me Curly.