Her Anger
RONNY’S POV
The sound of her voice hit me like a sucker punch to the chest.
Liliana.
For a second, I honestly thought I was dreaming again. That my brain had decided to torment me with her voice the same way it tormented me all night with her taste, her gasps, the memory of her soft body pressed against mine.
But then I turned.
And there she was.
Leaning casually against the doorframe, hair spilling over her shoulders like silk, lips curved in a smile that was way too damn pleased with itself. She looked fresh, radiant, like the sunlight itself had followed her inside. And she was looking right at me, eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Babe,” she said, her tone sing-song, dangerous. “Don’t you miss me?”
I froze. Completely, utterly froze. My brain scrambled for an answer, for sense, for something that would make this moment less insane. But before I could even form a word, I heard it—Hardin’s laugh.
Of course.
I turned slowly, already dreading what I’d see.
Hardin was sprawled back against the couch like he was watching the best comedy show of his life, smirk splitting his face from ear to ear. He didn’t even try to hide it.
And then—before I could speak, before I could move—Liliana was crossing the room, hips swaying, eyes locked on mine.
“Liliana—” I started, my voice rough.
Too late.
She climbed right onto my lap like she belonged there. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then her mouth was on mine, hot and soft, stealing the breath right out of me.
Every nerve in my body went haywire. My hands instinctively gripped her waist, my heart slamming against my ribs. For a split second—just one—I forgot Hardin was in the room. Forgot where I was. Forgot everything but her.
But then reality came crashing back.
I broke the kiss, setting her quickly onto the couch beside me like she was fire and I was already burned. My chest heaved, my head spinning, and I whipped around to glare at Hardin, silently begging him to understand, to say something, to explain this insanity.
But Liliana beat me to it.
She stretched her hand out toward Hardin, her smile wide, confident, like she was sealing some deal.
“Hi,” she said sweetly. “I’m Liliana Arthur. Ronny’s girlfriend.”
I swear my soul left my body.
Hardin choked. Actually choked on his food. Then his mouth fell open, eyes wide as he looked at me like I’d been hiding a nuclear bomb under my bed.
“Ronny,” he said slowly, dragging out the syllables like he couldn’t believe them. “You… have a girlfriend?”
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “It’s not like that.”
But of course, Hardin wasn’t letting me off that easy.
His grin returned, bigger than ever. “Oh, this is gold. The guys are going to lose their minds when they hear about this. You never bring anyone around. Never.” He turned to Liliana, his tone conspiratorial. “They’re going to be so excited to meet you.”
Her eyes sparkled as she leaned back into the couch, utterly unbothered by my glaring. “I can’t wait.”
I nearly choked. “Liliana—”
Hardin clapped his hands together. “Well, this explains why you’ve been scarce. Damn, Ronny. You dog. And here I thought you were all work, no play.”
I wanted to sink through the floor.
He stood, brushing crumbs from his shirt, still grinning like Christmas had come early. “I’ve got to get to the office. But don’t worry—I’ll let the others know you’re officially off the market.”
“Hardin—” I started, but he held up a hand.
“No need to walk me out,” he said cheerfully. “Take care of your girlfriend.”
Then he laughed—loud, long, and way too amused—as he sauntered out of the room.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Silence.
I turned to her slowly, every muscle in my body tight, every thought in my head a snarl. “What the fuck was that?”
She shrugged, like it was nothing. Like she hadn’t just detonated a bomb in my life. “I just introduced myself.”
My jaw clenched. “Introduced yourself? As my girlfriend?”
Her lips curved, mock-innocent. “Well, isn’t that what you called me last night?”
I exhaled sharply, trying to keep my voice steady. “That was different. That was a cover. For your mother’s case.”
She rolled her eyes dramatically, leaning back on the couch like a queen bored of her throne. “Same old story.”
My hands curled into fists. “Liliana, this isn’t a game.”
“Who said it was?” she shot back, her gaze sharp, challenging. Then, just as quickly, she reached into her bag and pulled something out. A flash drive. She held it between two fingers and dangled it in front of me. “I brought the footage you requested.”
I blinked. “I thought you were going to send it to my computer.”
“I changed my mind,” she said breezily. “And why are you acting like coming here is a crime?”
“Because you just introduced yourself as my girlfriend,” I snapped. “And how the hell do you even know where I live?”
Her smile faded into something sharper, colder. “Stop asking me so many questions.”
I stared at her, thrown.
Then she stood, slipping the flash into my palm with deliberate slowness. Her voice dropped, quiet but edged. “If you’re that angry to see me, I’ll leave.”
My chest tightened.
Before I could form words, she picked up her bag, straightened her shoulders, and said calmly, “Have a great day, Ronny.”
Then she turned and walked away.
I should’ve stopped her.
Every instinct in me screamed to grab her wrist, to tell her to stay, to tell her she was welcome here anytime. That she didn’t need an excuse to show up. That I didn't want her to leave.
But I don’t.
I stand there like a damn fool, rooted to the spot, watching her walk out of my house, her scent lingering in the air long after the door clicks shut behind her.
The silence crashes back, heavier than before.
I drop onto the couch, dragging a hand down my face, cursing under my breath.
What the hell just happened?
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