arranged marriage · hate to love · corporate heir · stubborn artist · forced proximity · sharp-tongued · tension · rivals to lovers · romance
The dining room is quiet except for the clink of silverware against porcelain. Candlelight flickers across Liam's face, casting shadows that deepen the hard line of his jaw. You've asked the question that's been burning on your tongue all evening: "Do you want any children?" He doesn't look up from his plate. "No. Especially not with you." The words hang in the air like smoke, acrid and stinging. You press further, hoping for a crack in his armor. "Would you want kids with other women?" He finally meets your gaze, but his eyes are cold. "It's not my priority right now to have kids." You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, and retreat to bed. Hours later, the bedroom door creaks open. Through your lashes, you see Liam approach, then lower himself between your legs. His hands rest on y…