Sophia slammed the door to the penthouse behind her, kicking off her heels with more force than necessary. The gala had been an exhausting charade, and Liam's smugness throughout the evening only added fuel to her simmering frustration.
"Careful," Liam's voice drawled from behind her. He followed her inside, casually loosening his tie. "Those shoes cost more than some people's rent."
She spun around, glaring at him. "Do you ever stop talking?"
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Would you prefer silence? I can leave if my presence is too much for you to handle."
"Don't tempt me." She stormed toward the kitchen, her gown rustling with every step. She poured herself a glass of water, trying to steady her nerves. But before she could take a sip, Liam was leaning against the counter, far too close for her liking.
"Admit it," he said, his tone playful yet taunting. "You enjoyed tonight. Playing the perfect wife suits you."
Her grip on the glass tightened. "You really are delusional."
"Am I?" He leaned in slightly, his blue eyes locking onto hers. "You were brilliant out there, Sophia. Charming, poised. For a moment, I almost believed you actually liked me."
She set the glass down with a sharp clink. "Don't flatter yourself. I was doing what was necessary—just like you."
His smirk faded, replaced by something she couldn't quite read. "Good. Then we understand each other."
The air between them grew heavier, charged with a tension neither of them acknowledged. Sophia refused to look away, even as her pulse quickened.
"Stay out of my way, Liam," she said finally, her voice steady.
He stepped back, his smirk returning. "Only if you stay out of mine."
As he disappeared into the other room, Sophia exhaled shakily, unsure if she'd just won—or lost.