The days following the confrontation felt like a slow-motion blur. A heavy, suffocating restlessness had settled over both men, though they processed the chaos in vastly different ways.
Jeff: The Obsession
Jeff was a man unhinged. He had gone completely silent, cutting off all communication with Tasha after a final, clipped message assuring her he was fine and that she should stay out of it.
He didn't want Tasha. He wanted the man who had tied him to a chair and then kissed him with the desperation of a drowning man. Jeff found himself prowling the city, hoping for even a fleeting glimpse of Liam, but the Mafia heir had vanished into the shadows.
The most agonizing part was the digital void. Liam had no social media footprint—no Instagram, no leaked paparazzi shots, nothing.
"Why isn't he on the socials?" Jeff muttered to himself one afternoon, his thumb aching from scrolling through endless dead-end search results. "Someone that beautiful should be seen by the world."
It wasn't just a crush anymore; it was an obsession. Jeff wasn't confused about his feelings; he was simply starving for a man who didn't want to be found.
Liam: The Breakdown
Inside the fortified walls of his estate, Liam was falling apart.
"Sir?"
"What do you want, Ben?" Liam's voice was a ghost of its usual sharp self.
"You haven't left this room in days. I'm worried."
"Leave me alone. Please."
"Sir, you haven't eaten. You're wasting away."
"BEN!"
Ignoring the potential for a violent outburst, Ben forced the door open. He found Liam huddled in the center of the oversized bed, looking fragile and pale. Ben knelt beside him, his heart aching for the young man.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I have to know you're okay."
"Ben... Ben..." Liam's voice broke. Suddenly, the "ruthless" heir began to sob—harsh, racking sounds that shook his entire frame. Ben had never seen him like this.
"Sir! Don't cry. I'm here."
"Ben... I'm heartbroken," Liam gasped.
"Is it Tasha?"
"No! Not her. Who even is she?" Liam let out a hysterical, watery laugh.
"Then who? Tell me, I'll take care of it."
"Jeff," Liam whispered, the name sounding like a prayer and a curse.
Ben froze, surprised by the revelation, but he didn't judge. To Ben, Liam wasn't a cold-blooded Mafia prince; he was just a boy playing a role to survive his father. He was a kid who had been denied love for so long that he didn't know how to handle it when it finally bit him. Ben gathered Liam into his arms, letting him cry until the boy eventually drifted into an exhausted, tear-stained sleep.
Ben stayed there for five hours, acting as a human shield against the world while Liam slept. During the vigil, a message lit up Ben's phone.
From: Arthur
Tell Liam to turn on his fucking phone and get ready for the general meeting tonight.
Ben's jaw tightened.
Ben:Sir, Liam is sleeping. I will not disturb him.
The Don:Are you stupid or drunk?
Ben:Neither. I work for Liam, not you. Goodbye.
Ben ended the call, his blood boiling. He hated the elder Liam with a passion that rivaled his loyalty to the son.
The following morning, the peace was shattered by a thundering voice downstairs. Liam bolted upright, terror instantly clearing the fog of sleep. He recognized that voice. Trouble.
He threw on a shirt and fumbled with his trousers, racing downstairs to find his father standing in the foyer, looking like a god of war.
"So, you're finally up," his father sneered.
"Dad—"
"Liam, did you really send this low-life to harass and insult me?"
"Dad, I don't know what you're talking about... Ben?"
"Mr. Liam," Ben said calmly, standing his ground. "Your father called last night while you were resting. I informed him you were unavailable."
"I'm sorry, sir," Liam stammered, looking at his father. "It won't happen again."
"Of course it won't," the Don snapped, "because your assistant is fired. Effective immediately."
"No! Dad, no. Ben is the only person I trust."
The argument was fierce, a clash of wills that only ended when the elder man realized he couldn't break Liam's resolve—not yet. He left the house fuming, his mind already plotting. At thirty-nine, the elder Don was a man of terrifying vanity and sharp features, looking nearly as young as his son and twice as dangerous. He wasn't finished with Ben.
Once the house was quiet again, Liam retreated to the sanctuary of his room. But silence only made the thoughts of Jeff louder. Jeff was taking up every inch of his mind.
"I need to do something," Liam whispered to the empty air. "Anything to forget this feeling."
He thought of Tasha. He hadn't spoken to her since the night of the "proposal." He didn't want to see her—the very idea made him feel cold—but he was desperate. He thought that perhaps, if he saw her, the "normalcy" of their arrangement would anchor him back to the man he was supposed to be.
He needed to see if Tasha could erase the memory of the man who had kissed him back.