The island morning was calm, deceptively so. The sun gleamed off the gentle waves, but beneath the serene beauty, a storm brewed—one only Liam could carry with him.
He arrived with his father, the atmosphere around them tense and commanding. Liam's eyes swept over the small compound, sharp and alert, every muscle coiled as if ready to strike.
"Liam," his father said, voice polite but carrying authority, "I want you to meet someone."
Fiona, standing near the children's craft area, froze. Something about the way his father spoke sent a warning ripple through her mind.
Out stepped a young woman, poised and elegant, her dark hair gleaming in the sunlight. She smiled politely, hands folded in front of her. "Hello, Mr. Smith," she said softly, her voice carrying a quiet confidence.
Liam's gaze flicked from the girl to his father, irritation simmering beneath his skin. "And she is…?" he asked flatly, already sensing the tension in the air.
"My childhood friend's daughter," Liam's father said smoothly. "I thought it would be… appropriate for you to meet her while you're here."
Fiona's chest tightened. She instinctively took a small step back, her mind flashing briefly to memories of awkward introductions, manipulations, and social games she had endured in the past.
Liam noticed her hesitation immediately. His lips curved, dark and dangerous. He glanced at Fiona, seeing her stiff posture, her quiet retreat. "Ah," he said, low and almost teasing, "I see you have opinions about this already."
Fiona stayed silent, refusing to be drawn into any confrontation, yet her eyes betrayed her unease.
"Don't worry," Liam said after a beat, his tone casual, but the underlying warning was clear. "It's fine. You may stay quiet this time."
He turned his attention back to the young woman. "I'm Liam. So… nice to meet you." His voice was clipped, polite enough to not offend, but sharp, a dagger hidden under a smile.
The woman nodded, maintaining her composure. "Likewise, Mr. Smith."
Fiona exhaled quietly, relief mixing with a strange twist of jealousy she didn't care to admit. Liam's attention was not on her—at least not directly. Her heart beat faster anyway, aware that his presence always seemed to loom over her like a shadow she couldn't escape.
Liam's eyes swept back to her briefly, reading her expression. "Ok," he said finally, the single word weighted, dismissive, yet protective all at once. He knew she would stay quiet, and that was enough for now.
Fiona stayed silent, feeling the tension of Liam's gaze, yet she refused to rise to any provocation. She had learned long ago that silence could speak louder than words—and Liam understood that better than anyone.
As the introductions ended and the young woman left with Liam's father, Fiona allowed herself a small sigh, though her heart still raced. She glanced at Liam, noting the subtle dark curl of his lips, the tension in his jaw. He was calm now, but she knew the storm was only simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to erupt.
She looked down at the children who were still working on crafts, smiling softly. Despite Liam's looming presence, despite the complexity of the island and its visitors, this small bubble of peace—the children, Robin, her work—remained hers.
Liam moved past her, silent and imposing, each step measured and deliberate. Fiona's pulse quickened, yet she stayed composed, keeping her distance without looking away.
"Ok," Liam repeated, almost to himself, the word carrying a promise. A warning. A reassurance all at once.
Fiona didn't speak. She didn't need to. She had learned long ago that some words were better left unspoken, and some storms were better weathered in silence.
And today, she would weather this one, too.