Taming My Sugar Mommy
Chapter 36: Rumors ?

Chapter 36: Rumors ?

Liam stood in the dimly lit kitchen, hands braced against the counter, Christina’s words still ringing in his head.

"You didn’t even notice, did you?"

His jaw tensed as he exhaled slowly. He wasn’t a man who let emotions get the better of him—never had been. But something about the way she’d looked at him, the way her voice had dipped just slightly at the end, made it impossible to shake off.

Outside, through the window, Christina moved with her usual precision, scanning the perimeter. Business as usual. As if she hadn’t just laid everything bare.

He should let it go.

Instead, he found himself pushing away from the counter and stepping outside.

She barely glanced at him. "If you’re coming out here to do the whole ’let’s talk about this’ thing, don’t bother."

"Not what I do," he said easily, leaning against the railing. "But you caught me off guard."

Her laugh was short, humorless. "That much was obvious."

Silence stretched between them, the cool night air thick with everything unsaid. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him, and he wasn’t sure he deserved it easy.

"Didn’t see the gift," he admitted, keeping his tone even. "But if I had—"

"You didn’t." Christina cut him off, shaking her head. "And that’s the point, Liam." She turned to him then, eyes sharp but tired. "You’ve been so wrapped up in whatever this thing is with her, you forgot to check your blind spots."

He hated that it landed.

Hated that she wasn’t wrong.

"It’s not like that," he said, though the words felt weak even to him.

Her expression was unreadable. "If you say so."

She adjusted her comms earpiece, her movements clipped. "I’ve got an early shift tomorrow. Don’t wait up." And just like that, she was walking away, leaving him standing there with an unfamiliar weight pressing against his chest.

Liam ran a hand down his face, muttering a curse under his breath.

’Brilliant. Just fucking brilliant.’

Sleep didn’t come easy that night. He tossed and turned, Christina’s words playing on repeat in his mind. When his alarm finally went off at seven, he’d managed maybe three hours of actual rest.

His phone buzzed with Isabella’s message: "Be ready after the meeting. We need to talk."

’Perfect timing,’ he thought sourly, dragging himself through his morning routine.

He was halfway through his coffee in the kitchen when he heard a car horn outside. Through the window, he spotted Isabella’s sleek black Mercedes, Marcus at the wheel. Earlier than expected – she usually didn’t send for him until closer to noon.

Christina appeared in the kitchen doorway, her posture alert despite the early hour. "Ms. Ashworth is here."

The tension from last night lingered in the air between them, but they both maintained their roles. As his bodyguard, she had a job to do, personal feelings aside.

’At least some things haven’t changed,’ Liam thought, gathering his things.

The walk to the car was silent, Christina maintaining a careful distance behind him. As he approached, he could see Isabella through the tinted windows, already absorbed in something on her tablet.

"Good morning," Isabella said as he slid into the backseat, not looking up from her screen. "Sarah’s come down with something. Food poisoning, apparently." She paused, tapping her finger against the tablet. "I need you to take her place in the Blackwood meeting."

’Ah.’ Now the early pickup made sense. Richard Blackwood was notorious in London’s business circles – old money, newer influence, and a reputation for being as brilliant as he was difficult.

"When’s the meeting?"

"Eleven." Isabella’s tone was carefully neutral, but Liam had worked as her assistant long enough to catch the undertone of concern. "I want to brief you properly before we go in. Blackwood’s... particular about who he deals with."

’She’s worried,’ he realized, and that alone was enough to put him on edge. Isabella Ashworth didn’t worry about meetings.

"Tell me everything," he said, settling back into the leather seat as Marcus pulled away from the curb.

"Tell me everything," he said, settling back into the leather seat as Marcus pulled away from the curb. But before Isabella could start, he leaned forward slightly.

"Oi, Marcus, caught the Arsenal match last night?"

Marcus grinned, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror. "That goal in the eighty-seventh? Absolutely mental."

"Proper devastating, that was. Liverpool never saw it coming."

Isabella cleared her throat, though Liam caught the slight twitch of amusement at her lips. "If you two are quite finished..."

"Right," Liam settled back, turning his attention to her. "Blackwood."

"Richard Blackwood," Isabella began, her tone shifting to business. "Inherited Blackwood Industries at thirty-two when his father passed. Turned what was already a successful company into something extraordinary." She handed him her tablet. "He’s known for being brilliant, ruthless, and impossible to please. The last three event planning companies he’s worked with haven’t lasted more than one event."

Liam scrolled through the document on screen, raising an eyebrow. "And we want him because...?"

"Because landing Blackwood means landing his entire social circle. Old money, Liam. The kind of connections that took me years to build." She paused, watching him absorb the information. "The kind of connections that could make or break Ashworth Luxury Events."

’No pressure then,’ Liam thought, continuing to read. The dossier was thorough – guest lists from previous events, noted preferences, even detailed accounts of his interactions with other companies.

"He’s going to try to rattle us," Isabella continued. "He enjoys it. Treats every meeting like a game of chess." She turned slightly in her seat to face him fully. "That’s why I need you there. Sarah’s excellent, but she plays by the rules. Sometimes we need someone who knows when to break them."

The weight of her words hung in the air. This wasn’t just another meeting – this was Isabella Ashworth showing her hand, admitting she needed him specifically. And after last night’s confrontation with Christina...

’Careful,’ he warned himself. ’This is exactly what Christina was talking about.’

"I read people," Liam said after a beat. "Or at least, I try to. You want to know what he’s really after, don’t you?"

Isabella’s smile was sharp. "Among other things."

The rest of the drive was spent with Liam absorbing the details of Blackwood’s file. Every preference, every complaint, every subtle indication of what made the man tick. By the time they pulled up to the Ashworth building, he had formed a picture in his mind.

’Control freak with a superiority complex,’ he thought, following Isabella into the elevator. ’Loves to remind everyone of his position while pretending he’s above caring about it.’

The office was already buzzing despite the early hour. Isabella’s assistant, Sarah, had earned her reputation for efficiency – even laid up with food poisoning, she’d managed to send over all the relevant files for the meeting.

Isabella led them straight to her office, closing the door behind them. "We have an hour. Let’s make it count."

They worked through the proposal methodically. Isabella had prepared for every contingency, but Blackwood was known for finding weak points nobody else saw.

’Like a shark smelling blood in the water,’ Liam thought as he reviewed the numbers.

At precisely 11 AM, Richard Blackwood swept into the conference room like he owned it. Liam understood immediately why Isabella had been concerned. The man exuded a particular brand of aristocratic disdain, his steel-gray eyes taking in everything while suggesting nothing quite met his standards.

"Lady Ashworth," Blackwood drawled, his accent speaking of Eton and inherited privilege. "Still trying to break into the upper echelons, I see."

Isabella’s smile didn’t waver. "Mr. Blackwood. Thank you for considering us."

"Yes, well, one must occasionally look beyond the usual circles." His gaze slid to Liam, assessment sharp behind the affected languor. "Though I see you’ve brought... interesting company."

The negotiation began like a fencing match. Blackwood picked apart their proposal with surgical precision, his critiques delivered with smiling condescension. Isabella countered each point expertly, but Liam could see her growing frustration. Blackwood wasn’t here to be convinced – he was here to demonstrate his superiority.

"Your services, while... adequate for certain circles," Blackwood was saying, "hardly meet the standards my guests expect. The Rothschild event last month, for instance—"

"Was handled by Claudia Bennett’s team," Liam cut in smoothly. "Who, if I recall correctly, failed to account for Lady Rothschild’s shellfish allergy. Rather basic oversight for such an... experienced firm."

The room went silent. Blackwood’s eyes narrowed, focusing fully on Liam for the first time.

"You seem well-informed, Mr...?"

"Campbell. And I make it my business to be informed." Liam leaned forward slightly. "Just as I’m informed about the upcoming celebration at your estate. The one you haven’t announced yet. The one that needs to be perfect because it’s not just about impressing society – it’s about proving to your board that you’re still the right man to lead the family enterprise."

Blackwood’s facade cracked, just slightly. "You’re very presumptuous."

"I’m very thorough," Liam corrected. "And so is Ashworth Luxury Events. We know that Claudia Bennett’s team is already stretched thin with the Hampshire wedding. We know that your usual second choice is dealing with a staff exodus. And we know that you need this event to be flawless."

"Isabella watched the exchange with carefully concealed surprise. This was a side of Liam she hadn’t seen before—the street-smart strategist who could hold his own among the elite."

"What Mr. Campbell means," she interjected smoothly, "is that we’re uniquely positioned to deliver exactly what you need."

Blackwood studied them both for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled. "Well played, Lady Ashworth. Your... assistant has teeth."

The contract was signed within the hour, but Blackwood’s parting words left an unsettling weight in the air.

"I’ve heard interesting rumors about your working relationship," he said, pausing at the door. "One does wonder about the... nature of certain arrangements." His smile was razor-sharp. "But then, in our circles, discretion is everything, isn’t it?"

"As the door closed behind him, Isabella and Liam exchanged a look. The dynamic had shifted—this wasn’t just business anymore. Someone was watching, and in London’s high society, scrutiny could be just as dangerous as a loaded gun."

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