I haven't properly introduced you to Ben.
Ben was more than just a personal assistant; he was a vision of refined, striking beauty. From a profile view, especially when he traded his sharp suits for casual wear, his long, silken hair and delicate features—a gift from his half-Asian, half-American heritage—could almost make you mistake him for a woman. But beneath that ethereal grace was a man of steel: a loyal, fearless protector who saw through everyone's mask.
Even Arthur's.
Arthur, fuming and looking for a reason to exert control, returned to Liam's estate to unleash another storm of pointless rage. But when he stormed into the foyer, Liam was nowhere to be found. He was met only by Ben and a few impassive bodyguards.
"You again," Arthur spat.
"Good day, sir," Ben replied, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.
"Whatever. Where the hell is Liam?"
"He went to Tasha's residence, sir."
"I'll wait then." Arthur threw himself onto a leather armchair, but he felt an prickle of unease. He could feel Ben's piercing gaze on the back of his neck, steady and unblinking. Suddenly, a light tap on the shoulder made him jump.
"Mr. Arthur?"
He spun around. Ben was holding a porcelain cup. "Here is some coffee while you wait."
Arthur was momentarily speechless. "What... well, uh, okay." He took the cup, but his hand stayed still. He felt a strange, creeping discomfort—not out of fear, but because for the first time, he felt like someone was learning how to manage him. "I'm leaving. Tell Liam I came by."
"Of course, sir. Be careful on your way out."
Arthur practically fled, scratching his head and looking like a man lost in a fog. Ben watched him go, noting how much Arthur's back view mirrored Liam's. Like father, like son—both haunted by the same shadow.
The Stalker and the Sunflowers
Jeff had finally found his opening. He had stationed a scout near the estate, and the moment the call came that Liam had left for Tasha's, Jeff abandoned his movie set. He didn't care about the shooting schedule or the disgruntled director; he threw himself into his car and trailed Liam with the precision of a hunter.
He watched from a distance as Liam's car pulled up to Tasha's gate. When Liam stepped out holding a massive bouquet of vibrant sunflowers, Jeff's grip tightened on his steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
"She'd better reject those," Jeff hissed to himself. "Or I'll burn them."
Inside the gates, the scene played out like a rehearsed play.
"Hi, baby," Liam said, his voice forced.
"Liam? What are you doing here?" Tasha asked, her arms crossed.
"I bought these for you. Tasha... I'm sorry. Please."
Tasha looked at the flowers, then at him. "Liam, we both know you aren't one bit sorry."
"I am. I promise."
She softened, a small smile breaking through her defenses as she accepted the bouquet. As they headed inside, Jeff watched from his car, muttering a string of insults. To him, Tasha was a distraction, a woman who chased fame and didn't deserve the complexity of a man like Liam. He made a silent vow: when he finally had Liam, he wouldn't hide him. He would show him off to the world.
The Secret Exchange
The "couple" moved to a private restaurant for lunch. Jeff, disguised in a mask and cap, followed them inside, sliding into a secluded booth where he could watch without being seen.
Midway through the meal, Liam excused himself to take a call. He had barely made it to the quiet corridor at the back of the restaurant when a hand shot out, dragging him into the shadows.
"What?! Who—hey!" Liam started to struggle until he saw the eyes behind the mask. "You?"
"Me," Jeff whispered.
"I told you I didn't want to see you again," Liam hissed, though he didn't pull away as sharply as he should have.
"I know what you said. But Liam... I couldn't help it. I needed to see you. I wanted to hold you—"
"Shut up. You've lost your mind."
"Fine. I'm crazy. Just give me your number. At least let me have that."
"No. Let me go."
"I won't," Jeff said, his voice dropping to a low, desperate plea. "Not until I get it. Please, Liam."
Liam looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the raw obsession in Jeff's gaze. He let out a frustrated growl. "I'm going to kill you for this."
"You can kill me after I get the number."
"Fine!" Liam spat out the digits.
Before Liam could react, Jeff leaned in, pressed a quick, firm kiss to Liam's cheek, and bolted toward the exit.
"Son of a bitch!" Liam cursed, his face flushing deep red. He marched back into the restaurant, told Tasha some lie about an urgent business meeting, and left her with the bill and the sunflowers.
The Wait
Jeff drove home like a man who had just won the lottery, giggling and humming to himself. He felt like the universe was finally on his side. Once home, he wrote the number down and placed it inside a decorative box, daring himself to wait a full week before calling. He wanted to savor the victory.
Back at the estate, Liam was a restless mess.
"Sir," Ben said, appearing in the doorway. "Your father was here earlier. He waited a bit and then left."
"Did you two fight again?"
"No, sir. Surprisingly, he was quite calm."
Calm. The word felt heavy, like a threat. Liam retreated to his room, stripping down to his underwear and collapsing onto the bed. He stared at the ceiling, trying to count the lines in the plaster, but his mind kept drifting back to the hallway behind the restaurant. He felt the phantom touch of Jeff's lips on his cheek.
"Gosh!" Liam groaned, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow. "What is wrong with me? I'm going crazy."
He had gone to see Tasha to find clarity, but it had backfired. Seeing her hadn't eased his mind; it had only made the hunger for Jeff's chaotic, relentless attention even louder. Tasha hadn't taken Jeff off his mind—she had led him straight back into the actor's arms.