Taming My Sugar Mommy
Chapter 41: Are we cool?

Chapter 41: Are we cool?

Isabella’s Bentley rolled to a smooth stop in front of Liam’s townhouse, its sleek form gleaming under the afternoon sun. Her hand rested briefly on his forearm as he reached for the door handle, the weight of it deceptively light for someone who carried worlds on her shoulders.

"You’re distracted," she observed, her tone casual but her eyes sharp. "Something on your mind?"

Liam forced a smile, pushing back the clamoring thoughts of USB drives, secret betrayals, and silver letter openers. "Just processing the Chen meeting," he lied, the words bitter on his tongue. "Nothing worth troubling you with."

She studied his face a moment longer, head tilted slightly. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" Her voice softened, a rare break in her carefully maintained composure. "Whatever complications arise, we handle them together."

’The irony of her words struck him like a physical blow. If she knew what was in his pocket, what Seraphina had shown him—would she still look at him with that mixture of trust and fondness?’

"I know," he replied, squeezing her hand once before releasing it. "I’ll call you later."

As he stepped out of the car, he spotted Christina waiting by the gate, her posture military-straight, eyes scanning the street with practiced vigilance. ’Her presence was both a comfort and a new source of anxiety—was she the traitor Seraphina had mentioned? The "ally" feeding information to their enemy?’

Isabella’s window lowered. "Christina," she called, nodding toward the bodyguard. "Make sure he actually rests tonight. He’s been pushing himself too hard."

Christina’s lips curved into a small smile as she approached the car. "Always do, Ms. Ashworth."

"And Liam?" Isabella’s voice dropped, meant only for him as he leaned down. "Whatever’s bothering you... don’t let it fester. You know how I feel about secrets."

With that loaded statement hanging in the air, her window rolled up, and the Bentley pulled away, leaving Liam standing beside Christina in uncomfortable silence.

"Rough day?" Christina asked, her tone carefully neutral as they walked toward the house.

Liam glanced at her, searching for any sign of duplicity, any hint that she might be the one feeding information to Seraphina. ’But her face revealed nothing beyond professional concern.’

"You could say that," he replied, fishing out his keys. "How about you? Been standing out there long?"

"Long enough." She followed him inside, closing the door behind them with a soft click that seemed to echo in the marble foyer. "Ms. Ashworth called, said you might need backup after your meeting."

’The mention of the "meeting" made him tense. How much did Isabella actually know? Had she somehow learned about his rendezvous with Seraphina?’

"Backup for what?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light as they moved deeper into the house. "Did she think the Singaporean investors might kidnap me?"

Christina’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. "She didn’t elaborate. Just said you seemed... off."

They reached the living room, the tension between them palpable. Christina hovered near the doorway, watching him with an intensity that made his skin crawl. ’Was she reporting his every move back to Seraphina? Or was she simply concerned after their last awkward encounter?’

He couldn’t take the uncertainty anymore.

"Look, Christina," he began, setting his briefcase down on the coffee table. "About Valentine’s Day. I owe you an apology."

Surprise flickered across her face, quickly replaced by a careful blankness. "You don’t owe me anything."

"I do," he insisted, finding that despite everything else happening, he genuinely regretted hurting her. "I didn’t notice your gift, and that was thoughtless. You went out of your way to do something nice, and I completely missed it."

Christina’s posture shifted slightly, the professional mask slipping to reveal a glimpse of the wounded pride underneath. "It wasn’t important."

"It was," he countered, taking a step toward her. "It was important to you, which makes it important. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings."

For a long moment, she said nothing, simply studying him with those penetrating eyes. Then, almost imperceptibly, her shoulders relaxed.

"It’s fine," she said finally. "We all have our off days."

He offered a tentative smile. "So we’re cool?"

Something flashed in her eyes—something warm and dangerous all at once. "We’re cool, Liam. But next time, pay attention." The statement carried weight beyond the simple words, an undercurrent he couldn’t quite decipher.

She turned to go, pausing at the doorway. "I’ll be outside if you need me."

"Christina," he called after her. "Thank you. For understanding."

She glanced back, a small, genuine smile touching her lips this time. "That’s what I’m here for. To watch your back."

As her footsteps faded down the hallway, Liam couldn’t help but wonder ’if she was watching his back—or reporting on it.’

With the house now quiet save for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall, Liam retrieved the USB drive from his pocket, turning it over in his palm. ’Such a small thing to contain such potentially devastating information.’

In his bedroom, he locked the door before inserting the drive into his laptop. A single folder appeared, containing one file labeled simply "J.A. Final Night." ’His hand hovered over the trackpad, heart hammering against his ribs. Whatever this contained would change everything—his relationship with Isabella, his understanding of who she was, perhaps even his own future.’

He double-clicked. A password prompt appeared.

’Of course. Seraphina wouldn’t make this easy.’

He tried several combinations—Isabella’s birthday, her father’s name, the date of Jonathan Ashworth’s death. Nothing worked.

After the fifth failed attempt, a warning flashed on screen: "Two attempts remaining before data self-destructs."

"Damn it," he muttered, reaching for his phone.

He dialed the number Seraphina had texted him from earlier, his jaw clenched tight enough to ache.

She answered on the second ring, her voice smooth and amused. "Having trouble, Mr. Campbell?"

"What kind of game are you playing?" he demanded, keeping his voice low despite knowing Christina was outside. "The file is password protected."

"Is it?" Her tone dripped with false surprise. "How inconvenient for you."

"Cut the crap, Seraphina. What’s the password?"

Her laugh was soft, intimate in a way that made his skin crawl. "So impatient. But I suppose that’s part of your charm."

"The password," he repeated, fighting to keep his voice steady.

"It’s going to cost you," she replied, her voice dropping to a purr. "I need to know how committed you are to this arrangement."

’Cold dread pooled in his stomach.’ "What do you want?"

"Something personal," she said. "Something that proves you’re willing to put yourself on the line for this information."

"Speak plainly."

"Fine." The playfulness vanished from her voice. "Send me a compromising photo of yourself. Nothing too explicit, but enough to ensure your... cooperation moving forward."

’Revulsion washed over him.’ "You can’t be serious."

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