Chapter 8 BLACKMAIL AND BACKFIRE

The morning after didn't feel like morning.

It felt like waking up in a dream she wasn't sure she deserved.

Liana stirred, blinking against the soft light filtering through the penthouse windows. The sheets were cool silk against her bare skin, her muscles deliciously sore in ways she hadn't felt in years. She rolled onto her side - and there he was.

Dominic Maddox.

Asleep on his back, one arm slung over his head, the other loosely wrapped around her waist, like even in sleep he refused to let go.

Her heart squeezed.

For a moment, she allowed herself the luxury of looking at him - really looking. The hard lines of his body, the tattoos that told a hundred stories, the faint shadow of a smile on his lips. He looked peaceful. Younger.

So different from the man who'd kidnapped her world a few weeks ago.

Last night had changed everything.

And yet, nothing.

She eased herself out of bed and went to stand by the window. The city stretched endlessly below, alive with movement. She placed a hand on the glass.

It was crazy. The two of them, after everything, ending up here.

Behind her, sheets rustled.

"Running again?"

His voice was low and scratchy with sleep.

She turned, lips curving despite herself. "Just thinking."

Dominic sat up slowly, stretching. God, he moved like sin.

"About?"

"About how insane this is," she admitted. "One minute you hate me. The next minute..." Her voice trailed, the heat of last night flashing back so vividly it made her cheeks burn.

"The next minute I finally get you where I've wanted you for three years," he finished, standing to cross the room toward her.

She laughed softly. "You're impossible."

"And you're still here," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair off her face.

They stood in that quiet for a while. Until his phone, left on the nightstand, chimed.

He ignored it.

It chimed again.

"Dominic," she said gently. "It might be important."

With a sigh, he walked back, picked it up - and froze.

Liana frowned. "What is it?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned the screen to her.

An email.

Subject: If you don't want this going public... meet me. Alone.

From: Unknown

And attached, a still image. Grainy but unmistakable:

Dominic and Liana, last night, tangled in each other's arms.

Her blood ran cold.

The air between them shifted.

"They were watching," Dominic said, his voice dangerously calm.

Liana pressed a hand to her mouth. "There are cameras in here?"

"There weren't supposed to be." He swore under his breath, his expression darkening as he scanned the email again. "This isn't paparazzi. This is someone close. Someone who knew exactly what they were doing."

Fear clawed at her chest. "Dominic... what if this is about the files?"

"It's about both," he said, already moving. He grabbed a black T-shirt from the chair, pulling it over his head as he stalked toward his office.

"Where are you going?"

"To track where this came from," he said sharply.

Liana followed him, barefoot, her shirt clinging to her skin. "You think this blackmailer is inside your company?"

"I don't know yet. But whoever it is-they know enough to know that one photo could ruin both of us."

"And what happens when you meet them?" she asked.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, his gaze fierce. "Then they find out why people don't threaten the things I love."

Her stomach flipped. The things he loves.

Was that what she was now?

The rest of the morning was chaos.

Dominic's office turned into a war room. His tech team patched in over video, running traces on the email. Every few minutes, he barked instructions, paced, cursed. Liana sat curled on the couch, knees drawn up, silent but watching.

She had never seen him like this - sharp and ruthless. Not a lover, not the man from last night. This was Maddox, the business shark. The man everyone feared.

But when his eyes met hers, even for a second, she saw the thread of something softer there.

It was almost noon when he finally let himself collapse into the chair beside her.

"Anything?" she asked.

"Nothing conclusive," he muttered. "They used a relay. Covered their tracks well."

She hesitated, then placed her hand over his. "Dom... we'll figure this out. You've faced worse."

His hand turned, fingers interlacing with hers. He exhaled, long and slow. "I'm not worried about me."

Her heart stuttered.

Before she could respond, the penthouse elevator chimed.

Liana stiffened. "Are you expecting someone?"

Dominic's expression hardened instantly. "No."

The elevator doors slid open - and in walked a tall, sleek woman in a red power suit, every inch of her screaming money and control.

"Dom," she said smoothly. "You weren't answering my calls."

"Clara," Dominic bit out.

Liana stood, awkward, not missing the way the woman's eyes flicked to her - taking in the shirt she wore, the fact that it was obviously his, the faint marks along her neck.

Clara smirked. "I see you've been... busy."

---

Liana crossed her arms. "And you are?"

"His business partner," Clara said, stepping closer. "And, once upon a time, a lot more."

Dominic stood between them. "Clara. Whatever you came here for, make it quick."

"I heard whispers," she said, sliding a tablet onto his desk. "About someone inside trying to take you down. And now I come here and... well, let's just say whoever's watching has leverage."

Liana's stomach twisted.

Dominic's hand found her lower back. "You don't need to worry about that," he said coldly.

"Oh, but I do," Clara replied, eyes narrowing. "Because when you burn, Dom, I burn too. And if this little distraction is the reason-"

"That's enough," he snapped.

---

Liana had had enough, too. "I'm not his distraction."

Clara arched a brow. "Sweetheart, that's all you've ever been."

Before she could say more, Dominic's voice cut through, low and lethal. "Get out."

Clara's painted smile faltered. She stared at him for a beat, then turned on her heel and left without another word.

The elevator doors shut.

Liana let out a shaky breath. "So... that was fun."

Dominic cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Ignore her. She's noise."

"She seemed like more than noise," Liana muttered.

"She isn't," he said firmly. "Not anymore."

---

Tension hung between them, sharp and dangerous.

But when he kissed her, everything snapped.

There was nothing slow about this kiss. It was hard, hot, desperate. His hands pulled at her shirt, sliding it over her head, while she clawed at his.

"Here?" she whispered as he lifted her onto the desk.

"Here," he growled, mouth at her neck.

The chaos, the threat, Clara - it all faded into a haze of touch and hunger. Papers scattered, a glass toppled, but neither of them cared.

"Mine," he whispered against her skin.

"Yes," she breathed, wrapping her legs around him.

This wasn't last night's tenderness. This was need. Urgent, hungry, reckless.

And when he finally pushed inside her, she cried out, gripping the edge of the desk.

The pace was brutal, their moans echoing through the office, the city spinning outside the glass walls. Every thrust was a promise - that no blackmailer, no ghost from their past, could take this from them.

When she came, it was with a broken sob of his name. And he followed, burying his face in her neck as they collapsed together onto the desk

Minutes later, still catching her breath, Liana whispered, "You realize we just gave whoever's watching another show?"

Dominic laughed, low and dark. "Good. Let them watch. Then they'll understand exactly what they're up against."

---

But neither of them saw the second email arrive.

"Round two. Tonight. Or the world sees everything."