Smack!

I smack my lips together, looking at the mirror as I finish putting on my lipstick. Rehearsing my smile, I straighten the front of my dress and take a spin, my high-heels clicking against my bedroom floor.

I got my hair done, spent half-an-hour getting the make-up done just right, and I’m wearing a Versace dress that cost more than what was reasonable for me to spend. Why am I putting all this effort? It’s simple: I can’t go half-assed into this. If I’m going to seduce Liam, I have to bring my A-game; afterall, he’s the kind of guy that’s used to the presence of actresses, Victoria Secret models, and what have you.

“Where are you…?” I whisper to myself as I hear my phone vibrate somewhere in the room. I look at the bed and start pushing the pillows to the side. I finally manage to find it wrapped in the sheets, and I feel my heart skipping a beat as I see the text message icon blinking in the screen.

I’m downstairs, the message Liam just sent me reads. He told me he’d pick me up at 8 pm and, lo and behold, it’s 8 pm sharp. Punctuality - I like that.

You know what? I wasn’t supposed to like that many things about Liam, but he’s been surprising me ever since we met. Instead of a raging asshole, I found a guy that could be articulate and charming. And that’s what makes him dangerous. Raging assholes can be heartbreakers too, of course, but the ones that can really mess up a girl are the ones that just seem too perfect to be true.

Grabbing my purse and throwing the phone inside, I take one last look at the mirror and then leave the apartment, anxiety slowly creeping in as I wait for the elevator. I can’t believe that I’m actually looking forward to this date. I usually just see these outings as a job, a necessary evil so to speak, but this time… I don’t know, I’m intrigued by Liam.

Don’t worry, though - I’m experienced enough to avoid any kind of pitfalls. I’ve chewed up and spat out guys just like him before. Sure, he’s in a level of his own, but that doesn’t mean I’ll switch off the rational side of my brain.

Finally stepping inside the elevator, I take deep breathes as it makes its way down to the ground floor; when the doors finally slide open, I have a confident smile plastered on my face.

It’s show time - let’s do this.

“And there she is,” Liam tells me the moment I step one foot outside my apartment building. He’s leaning back against the hood of an black executive limo, a tailored suit making his figure even more irresistible. Right now, he wouldn’t look out of place in the Oscars; in fact, he’d own the whole thing and steal all the attention for himself.

“So, you can pull off a suit,” I tell him, trying to act like I’m not impressed at all. It sounds easier than it is because, really, I’m impressed. Looking that good should be illegal.

“And you can pull off a dress,” he responds, chuckling softly. “Although, I have to say, you looked even better in a bikini.”

“Watch it,” I tell him with a laugh, feeling warm blood rushing to my cheeks. Am I blushing? No, it can’t be. I’m used to guys giving me compliments like that, and Liam’s wasn’t as bold of a compliment as some I’ve received in the past. And still, the way he said it, his deep voice carrying his words so confidently... Oh, Liam’s a very dangerous man.

“Shall we?” He asks me, offering me his arm. I lace my arm through his and let him lead the way toward the back of the limo. Opening the door for me, he then walks around the car and enters from the other side.

“Who knew? Liam Donovan can be chivalrous,” I tease him, looking into his eyes as I hear the limo’s engine start to purr. One second later and the driver pulls the car into the road, merging with New York’s evening traffic.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the tabloids, Cara,” he shoots back fast and, even though he’s merely teasing me, I can tell that he’s also being serious. Apparently, Liam doesn’t really enjoy being seen as the King of the New York Bros. I can’t say I’m surprised - after all, how many people like to be seen as major douchebags? Sure, there’s a special breed of men and women that enjoy the fame that being an asshole carries, but it seems that Liam doesn’t really belong to that special class of human beings.

“I don’t read the tabloids,” I lie. Right now, there’s a giant pile of tabloid newspapers on my desk, and Liam’s gracing the cover of each and every one of them. I got to throw all that in the garbage once I’m back - it’s just mindless bullshit, and there was absolutely nothing in there that could help me solve the walking mystery that Liam is. “But you’re a known name. I’ve heard about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” he smiles, his eyes still locked on me.

“Depends on what you think is a ‘good thing’, Liam.”

“Ah, well, it’s always a matter of perspective, isn’t it?” He laughs, the sound of his voice making a shiver shoot up my spine. I turn my gaze away from him and, remaining silent, I look out the window of the limo, watching the city streets passes us by.

“Where are we going anyway? You’re not going to take me to a back alley and harvest my organs, are you?” I ask him, teasing him again. He told me he’d take me out on a date, but he kept a shroud of secrecy about what kind of date he had in mind. It’s a surprise, he told me over the phone, and now here I am - alone with him in his limo, no idea about where we’re going.

Locking his eyes on mine, he offers me an enigmatic smile.

“We’re going back to my place.”

Uh-oh.