“Crap,” I mutter to myself, taking off my reading glasses and rubbing my eyes. I’m sitting in my living room, trying to profile Liam, but it hasn’t been easy. I’ve been at this for God knows how many hours, and my eyes are killing me from staring at the laptop screen without taking a break.

Sighing heavily, I close the laptop lid and throw it to the side. I throw my feet up on the coffee table and I lean back against the couch, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

Doing recon on Liam is proving to be harder than what I had anticipated. The internet hasn’t been much of an help - all I seem to be able to find is the same recycled bullshit that the tabloids thrive on. There’s nothing substantial in there, absolutely nothing that I can use.

Usually the women that hire my services give me something I can use as an in with the target, but Misty didn’t help with that. She just dumped her problem onto my lap, outsourcing her heartbreak to me. Not that I mind - I’m paid handsomely enough for my efforts. But, still, it’s frustrating as hell.

As notorious as Liam is, he’s a complete mystery. He’s living the high life and breaking hearts all over the city, but I don’t even know exactly what he does for a living. There are a lot of articles talking about how savvy he is with his financial investments, but what the hell does that even mean?

“Ah, screw this,” I sigh, getting up from the couch and picking up my phone from the coffee table. Unlocking the screen, I run my thumb over my contact list and then dial Renee’s number. If there’s someone that can help me with Liam, it’s got to be Renee.

“What’s up, Cara?” She says excitedly, picking up my call after just one tone.

“All good, girl,” I laugh, Renee’s good mood infecting me immediately. She’s the kind of girl that has one these contagious good vibes around her, and that’s probably one of the reasons we became such good friends back in college.

Daughter of a famous hedge fund manager, Renee was part of one of these ridiculous cliques of rich snobbish kids. They drove around campus as if they owned the whole thing, polo shirts draped over their shoulders as they showed off the sports car they bought with their parent’s money.

I’m not saying that all kids that come from wealthy families are assholes, but some of them are. And that was the kind of crowd that Renee was part of; despite that, she never really felt at home with them.

I think that I was actually the first person Renee met that wasn’t from a wealthy family, and I think that was also part of the reason we hit it off so quickly. Renee was hungry to know more about life, and she relished the opportunity of being friends with someone that only had one thing going for her: hard work.

“Listen, Renee, I need some help,” I tell her right away, getting down to business.

“Shoot! Who do you need dirt on, girl?” She laughs, her California accent coming through her words.

“Liam Donovan.”

“Liam Donovan? Is he your next target? Woah, that’s impressive,” she tells me, and I just wait for her to give me whatever information she has on him. You see, despite being friends with me, Renee is still part of the socialite - which means she, more often than not, has information on some of my wealthier targets. And when she doesn’t have that information, she digs it up for me. How she does it, I don’t even want to know. But the fact remains - Renee has been central to the way Lust Muscle has been able to operate successfully ever since I set up shop.

“Yeah, he’s going to be trouble, isn’t he?” I ask her, already anticipating her obvious answer.

“Oh, you betcha. He’s a handful, that’s for sure. Pretty good looking too, and rumours has it that he has a pretty big --”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” I laugh again, biting on my lip to stop my mind from diving straight into the gutter. “I’m going to need an in with him.”

“Yeah…” She replies, sighing into the phone, and I can tell that she’s thinking hard. “I don’t have a lot to give you on him right now, Cara. He’s a well known face, sure, but no one really knows much about Liam. He keeps to himself, you know?”

“That’s not what the tabloids say.”

“Yeah, he’s a bit of a wild card when it comes to women. But, really, what does anyone know about him besides the fact that he has a pretty active sex life?” She exhales sharply and I smile to myself, the tone in her voice telling me that she’s imagining how it’d feel to be a part of Liam Donovan’s ‘pretty active sex life’. “Who hired you, though? Or is this some class action lawsuit type of thing?”

“No,” I chuckle, “just one client. Misty Lane.”

“Misty Lane? Jesus, she’s batshit crazy, Cara.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. She seemed pretty heartbroken over Liam, though.”

“Figures. I mean, from what I’ve heard, Liam is a born heartbreaker. Once a woman has a taste of his delicious -- ahem, of his delicious charm, she can’t get enough. He’s not the kind of guy to go for a relationship, though, and most girls just can’t deal with that.”

“So he’s the kind of guy that runs from love, huh?” I ask her, already feeling the fire of a challenge welling up inside me. I love to take these jaded assholes and make them see how much it sucks to have someone trampling over your heart.

“That’s right. He won’t make it easy for you. Alright, look… I’ll see what I can find, okay?”

“Thanks, Renee, I owe you.”

“Of course you do,” she laughs brightly. “Next dinner is on you.”

“You got yourself a deal,” I tell her, ending the call. Throwing my cell phone onto the couch, I walk over to the floor-to-ceiling window of my living room, looking at New York’s skyline as the sun sets, now hiding between two skyscrapers as it spills its orange glow all over the city.

Somewhere out there, Liam Donovan is enjoying himself, completely oblivious to the fact that there’s a target on his back. I know that this is going to be a hard job to pull off, but the more (or should I say less?) I know about him, the more intrigued I become.

Oh, this is going to be fun.