Chapter 5

The tension around Liam was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. "Are you threatening me?"

Evelyn's breath hitched, her chest tightening under the weight of his dominance. "Please, don't force me into something I don’t want."

Liam's sharp gaze narrowed on her.

Her delicate, innocent features stirred something in him—a fleeting resemblance to Victoria as a child.

Lost in thought, his lips curled into a knowing smirk. "I'll admit, you’ve done an impressive job mimicking her childhood likeness. No wonder my grandmother adores you."

Her childhood?

Evelyn frowned. Who was he talking about?

Before she could dwell on it, Liam straightened, his tone cool. "Fine. I agree."

With that, he turned on his heel and strode out, Ryan trailing behind.

Evelyn stood frozen, his words echoing in her mind. What exactly had he agreed to?

Divorce? Or playing the role of husband and wife?

Night draped over the estate, a soft breeze drifting through the open window.

Ryan brought dinner to Evelyn’s room. After eating, she picked up a book on military tactics, engrossing herself until late.

When exhaustion finally claimed her, she headed for the shower. Half an hour later, she realized—she had nothing clean to wear.

She washed her clothes and hung them by the bathroom window, then wrapped herself in a towel before stepping out.

And froze.

Liam stood by the bed, shirtless, his sculpted torso on full display. The faint scars tracing his skin only amplified his raw masculinity.

Heat flooded her cheeks.

His gaze flickered to her, taking in her flushed face and wide eyes. The innocence in her expression seemed genuine.

His eyes trailed down—her bare shoulders, the smooth curve of her legs.

For someone who’d supposedly undergone extensive cosmetic work, her beauty was unsettlingly natural.

Clearing his throat, he grabbed a set of athletic wear from the closet and tossed it at her. "Put these on."

She fumbled to catch them.

Confusion knitted her brows until he added, "Unless you’d rather stay like that."

Evelyn clutched the clothes tighter. "What are you doing in my room, Mr. Blackwood?"

He didn’t turn. "Who insisted on living as husband and wife?"

She had.

But she’d meant it as leverage for divorce—not to endure a hollow marriage with another woman in the picture.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind him.

Evelyn exhaled, her pulse erratic. She pressed a hand to her chest, then her burning cheeks.

Fifteen minutes later, Liam emerged in pajamas.

She shot to her feet. "Mr. Blackwood, we need to talk."

Three years of longing meant nothing if this marriage would only bring her pain.

He pulled a spare blanket from the closet and dropped it on the bed. "It’s late. Tomorrow."

Her fingers twisted in her shirt. "Aren’t we getting divorced?"

Liam stretched out on the bed, eyes closed. "Not yet."

Her stomach knotted. "Then you’d better commit to the act."

"Fine." No hesitation.

His bluntness left her restless. She watched him settle in, then grabbed her own blanket and pillow, arranging them on the floor.

If he loved another woman, he wouldn’t want to share a bed with her.

The lights flicked off.

A second later, they snapped back on.

Liam loomed over her, irritation darkening his features. "What are you doing?"

"Sleeping?"

In one swift motion, he scooped her up—blanket and all—and dumped her onto the bed.

She bounced, dizzy, her injuries throbbing.

Then he leaned in.

Her hands flew to his chest. "You—"

He caged her beneath him, his body solid and unyielding.

The moment her palms met his bare skin, she jerked back, flustered.

Heart hammering, she stared up at him, breath shallow.

Fear and something else—something dangerous—coiled inside her.

What was he planning to do?