Begin Again

Eden McBride spent her whole life colouring within the lines. But when her fiancé dumps her one month before their wedding, Eden is done following the rules. A hot rebound is just what the doctor recommends for her broken heart. No, not really. But it's what Eden needs. Liam Anderson, the heir to the biggest logistics company in Rock Union, is the perfect rebound guy. Dubbed the Three Months Prince by the tabloids because he's never with the same girl longer than three months, Liam's had his fair share of one night stands and doesn't expect Eden to be anything more than a hookup. When he wakes up and finds her gone along with his favourite denim shirt, Liam is irritated, but oddly intrigued. No woman has ever left his bed willingly or stole from him. Eden has done both. He needs to find her and make her account. But in a city with more than five million people, finding one person is as impossible as winning the lottery, until fate brings them together again two years later. Eden is no longer the naive girl she was when she jumped into Liam's bed; she now has a secret to protect at all costs. Liam is determined to get everything Eden stole from him, and it's not just his shirt.

© 2020-2021 Val Sims. All rights reserved. No part of this novel may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author and publishers.

1|Crush

"Can someone please tell me why I left our perfectly comfortable couch to freeze my ass off here?" Eden McBride glared at her three friends waiting patiently in the queue with her.

It's been over an hour, but the long line snaking its way around the block had barely moved.

Out of all the hangouts in Rock Castle, they had to choose Crush, one of the most challenging clubs to get into, especially on the one weekend when the hottest DJ in town makes an appearance.

"To help you get over the man whose name we won't mention!" Sienna, her best friend since primary school, said in a hushed tone. The clear plastic beads dangling on the ends of her long ombre braids chinked as she turned her head to match her death glare.

On her 'bad' days, Sienna was cute. But on a good day, like tonight, she was smoking hot. The guys milling about, desperate to get inside like they were, clearly thought so too. They could barely peel their eyes from her.

"Yeah, Eden, we've given you enough time to mope," Lydia chimed in as she snapped a quick selfie and posted it on her I*******m. Within seconds her phone pinged incessantly with notifications from millions of adoring fans. Lydia is a mega-successful YouTuber whose makeup videos have catapulted her to a goddess-like status on the internet.

"The sooner you get back on the bike, the better," Cassandra added, flicking her long blond hair over her shoulder as she pulled up the collar of her signature leather jacket. In the five or six years Eden's known her, she's never seen her in a dress. Not even once. For a self-proclaimed tomboy, Cassandra was effortlessly chic, and with her tall slim physique and delicate features, she could pull off any look.

In their crew, Eden was the plainest, and she was okay with that. Her skin was so pale she could never get a tan no matter how long she stayed in the sun. She tried colouring her long mousey brown hair a few times, but the constant retouching got old real quick. Her most striking feature was her slanted, brown eyes. Pity, she had to hide them behind thick-lensed glasses because she was almost as blind as a bat without them.

"He's moved on. You should do the same!" Lydia chimed in brutally. Subtlety was not her strong suit.

Eden sighed and rolled her eyes. Her friends meant well. But, she was okay with spending her days and nights in front of the TV binging on carbs and terrible reality shows. She was cool with not brushing her hair or changing her clothes for days on end. She was happy to cry herself to sleep and wake up with a puffy face and swollen eyes. But she didn't want to be rushed through her grief.

How could six weeks be enough to get over a lifetime of memories, of four years of happy moments and hopeful dreams, dashed in an instant?

"If this stupid line doesn't move in the next two minutes, I'm leaving," she said and pulled her trench tighter, glad she had the foresight to wear it even when her friends wanted her to ditch it because it was 'ruining her whole aesthetic'.

A Lamborghini screeched in front of the entrance, followed by a Ferrari and a Porsche. A group of men, as tall as the surrounding office towers and good looking enough to have walked straight out of a fashion magazine, jumped out of the three cars, threw their car keys at the valets, and made their way to the door.

Perhaps it was the long line that seemed to be going nowhere fast or the stress of the past few weeks, but when Eden saw the six towers trying to bypass the queue, she lost all her patience. Without thinking, she left her place and stormed to the entrance, her friends trailing behind her.

She tapped the very tall ginger, trying to smooth talk his way into the club, on the shoulder. He turned to look at her, his thick eyebrows fusing in a questioning frown.

Eden paused, her lungs struggling to keep up with her thoughts and take in simple breaths. With hair so bright like flames, she expected his eyes to be green. Not this denim blue. She could feel herself struggle against their pull.

"Eden, don't cause a scene," Sienna gritted her teeth and tugged at her arm.

But, Eden saw no reason to be polite. Not when she was almost frozen solid she could barely feel her ass.

She stretched to her full height as she tried to match the man's towering size. But even in her Jimmy Choo stilettos, she still had to look up at him.

"Can I help you?" He asked in a voice meant to melt the panties off of any woman within a kilometre radius.

As if he wasn't already deadly enough, he had a cleft too. The fact that it wasn't so prominent and only seemed to show itself when he spoke or smiled, which was all he did in the last fifty seconds, made it all the more devastating.

"I don't need your help," Eden said icily, hating him a little. He had no right to be so attractive.

"Okay, then!" He shrugged, showing off two rows of perfectly straight teeth as he smiled. They were so white she thought they might be veneers. They had to be. There was no way anyone would have such great teeth unless they had an excellent dentist.

"If you are done gawking at me–"

Eden held up her hand, irritated with herself for noticing all these things about him and hating him a little more for his presumptuous arrogance.

"Do you see all these people?" She glared at him and pointed at the endless line. "They've been waiting for over an hour. You can't just come here and skip the queue."

"Are you going to stop me, Princess?" His rust-coloured eyebrows shot up, his eyes sparkling with amusement and his Calvin Klein underwear model friends sniggered. Eden wanted so much to wipe the smirk off his face with her puny little fists. But she was an educated person. She didn't have to use her hands to prove her point. Words were just as powerful.

"If you have any decency, you'll do the right thing and wait in line like everyone else." She said, blinking furiously behind her black-framed glasses.

A hush fell over the small crowd gathered around them. Eden's friends kept tugging and pulling at her. But she was so over everything, including this night, and she refused to be intimidated by Red as he leaned down to stare at her at eye level condescendingly.

"I guess I'm not a decent person now, am I?" He blew a cold minty breath on her face and shrugged, returning his attention to the bouncer.

He flashed a few notes at the burly man, gathered up his crew, and waved at her group. "They are with us!"

Before Eden could even process his announcement, they were already inside the club, wading through a swarm of sweaty heaving bodies swaying to the music.

It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dim lighting. Up ahead, she saw the man she just tussled with head to a VIP booth.

Was she supposed to thank him for getting them in? No way, she shook her head. Now that she was inside, she was glad her toes and ass were not so numb anymore, but she had no issue waiting her turn like everyone else.

"Oh, St. Eden, we are forever in your debt. Drinks are on us tonight!" Cassandra bowed and brought her hands up in a prayer-like gesture.

Lydia giggled and gushed. "Yeah, you took one for the team! I mean, I would never have dared to approach Liam."

"That's his name?" Eden asked, barely paying attention to her friends' chatter. 'Red' suited him better in her opinion.

She craned her neck, scanning the room for free seats. But other than a few empty stools at the bar, there was no sitting room anywhere, and she desperately wanted to sit down. As cute as her shoes were, especially when paired with her black midi dress, her feet were seriously killing her.

"Liam's like royalty around here. You must have heard about him," Sienna rattled away. "He's a motorsport driver, throws the craziest parties, and he has a three-month rule. He never dates anyone longer than three months."

"What a charming guy!" Eden nodded absently, but she's never heard of him. Not surprising since she never paid attention to Rock Union's social scene.

Her eyes lit up when she saw some empty stools at the bar. It wasn't prime real estate, especially since all the already inebriated idiots seemed to gravitate there, but she had to rest her feet.

"Let's go," she grabbed Sienna's hand, and they pushed their way through the crowd, Cassandra and Lydia close behind them.

"First round's on me!" Lydia yelled over the music as she tried to catch the bartender's attention.

They kicked off their evening with a round of shooters and some gossip and followed it up with cocktails and more scandalous stories. Lydia was sleeping with one of the lighting guys from her filming crew, and she had no issue describing all his throbbing, turgid parts for anyone who would listen.

Halfway through her first cocktail, Eden's mood improved some, and she started to think maybe coming out here wasn't such a bad idea.

The DJ switched to a fast-paced tune. Lydia and Cassandra screamed something about it being their favourite jam. Shrieking their heads off, they ran to the dance floor. Eden watched them jump and bob to the music, a tipsy smile on her face.

"OMG!" Sienna said, her eyes filled with horror. "This is not happening!"

Eden's heart shattered all over again when her gaze clashed with Simon's across the room. Olive, their former friend, dressed in a skintight metallic dress, hung on his arm like a man purse.

"I didn't know they'll be here," Sienna said.

Eden nodded. "I'm okay."

But she wasn't.

Her heart was still so bloody and raw over her broken engagement. It wasn't so much the breakup she was struggling with, though. It was the cowardly way Simon chose to end their year-long engagement over a text message. He didn't just leave her with a broken heart, but also the admin of cancelling the wedding and fighting for refunds.

She watched them now make their way through the room, carefree and in love like they never left her broken and bruised.

In the first two weeks post their breakup, she was in numb disbelief and too busy trying to explain to her parents and everyone around her why her intuition was so off the mark about Simon. The worst, though, was calling all hundred guests to let them know it was okay to use their wedding invitations as toilet paper because there wasn't going to be a wedding.

She spent the four weeks after, floating between disbelief, crushing sadness, and rage. She went through all the stages of grief in those weeks.

Now, as she watched the two people she'd trusted with her life, laugh and have fun, Eden realised she was still somewhere between anger and acceptance.

"Should we go somewhere else?" Sienna asked.

Eden shook her head. She did nothing wrong except trust the two of them with her heart. If anyone should leave, it was Simon and his cheating heart.

"Come on, let's show him you don't need him!" Sienna consoled her as they downed the shots lined up on the smooth, marble top. "You've moped long enough for him!"

She was right. Six weeks was way too long to sit and cry for a man who had no intention of coming back, Eden thought as she guzzled kamikaze shots, one after the other, in quick succession.

Her heart, hellishly numb now, was thankful. But, her liver screamed at her to stop as the vodka hit her hard.

Sienna tried to warn her to pace herself, but Eden was way past the point of being reasonable. She wanted to get shitfaced.

"I'm going to dance," she hiccuped her way from the bar to the dance floor, determined to pick a random stranger to dance with. She wasn't fussy. Anyone would do.

2|Make Me Forget

Liam was the lucky random stranger.

Eden didn't care that another woman, a Barbie look-alike, dressed in the tightest, shortest, blackest latex dress she had ever seen, was trying to call dibs on him.

"He's with me," she slurred as she propped herself between the two.

Barbie looked ready to murder her with her glacial stare, as she sized her up, her collagen-pumped lips curling with distaste.

"Yeah," Liam chuckled, his cheeks and ears matched his flame hair. "I'm with her!"

"Your loss," Barbie flicked her long blond extensions over her shoulder and pranced off, vanishing in the herd of vacant-eyed zombies swaying to the music.

"Thanks," Liam said with a smile. "You saved my life."

"I guess we're even now," Eden said softly. "Thanks for getting us in."

She wasn't planning to thank him. But, he did save her from the cold earlier.

"I guess being indecent helps sometimes?" He chuckled, and she liked him a little then.

A slow jam came on and out of the corner of her eye she saw Simon and Olive slink their way to the dance floor. She panicked and threw herself in Liam's arms.

"Just pretend you're my boyfriend, okay?" She smiled up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears she was struggling to contain. "Pretend you're madly in love with me."

"Whatever you want, Princess!" Liam pulled her close, his arms wrapped around her waist possessively. Eden, acutely aware of his every movement as they moved to the music, tried to ignore the tingling awareness rushing through her body at his touch. 'Tried' being the operative word.

She read somewhere you can tell a lot about a person from the way they dance. It was true. What she may have assumed to be arrogance earlier, was simply confidence on Liam's part.

"Am I a good boyfriend?" He lowered his head, their foreheads touching lightly. Her brain screamed at her not to get excited as his five o'clock shadow grazed her cheek, sending her quivering despite the warmth in the room.

"If your day job doesn't work out, you can always sign up with Rent-A-Boyfriend," Eden assured him as she hung her arms around his neck, taking him in.

With his thick wavy red hair, Liam reminded her of Will Halstead from Chicago Med, one of her favourite TV shows. He was too damn fine for his own good. And if she carried on clinging to him, it was only a matter of time before she jumped straight from the pan and into the fire.

"Is there such a thing?" His eyebrows shot up, and his face lit up with curiosity.

"I don't know," she laughed, throwing her head back. "I've never needed their services before."

Until now, she thought sadly. Until today.

They swayed in silence for a minute, maybe three. Eden was happy to be in his arms, even when the song ended, and another tune came on, she carried on moving, and Liam didn't seem to be in any hurry to let her go.

"Other than dancing with random strangers, why are you here tonight?" She asked, suddenly curious about him.

Crush was an okay nightclub for mere mortals like her. But she imagined filthy-rich gods like him have private clubs, where only black cards and eight-figure bank balances allowed you access.

Liam looked like an eight-figure bank balance type of guy. From his woodsy cologne tinged with the faint whiff of expensive bourbon, to the dark slim-fit jeans he paired with a denim button-down shirt and custom made sneakers. They had to be because she's never seen them on anyone before.

"Celebrating my last night of freedom," he murmured.

Of course, Eden thought. It explained his entourage of Calvin Klein models. It was his bachelor party. She instantly felt terrible for being rude to him earlier. If she was celebrating her last night as a single woman, she wouldn't want to waste half of it waiting in the queue.

"Are you happy?" She asked on his chest. "Should I congratulate you?"

Liam laughed in her hair. "Not really. But it is what it is. How about you?"

"I'm here to forget," she looked up, her heart jumping to her throat when she caught the intense look in his eyes. If he carried on staring at her like that, like she's the only woman in the room, she might forget her heartbreak and sadness.

"Forget what?" He asked, searching her face as if the meaning behind her words was written there.

"Everything," Eden smiled tearfully. "Make me forget, please?"

She didn't know what she was asking for until Liam gently lifted her chin and his mouth descended on hers in a fiery kiss. For a breathless few minutes, all she was aware of was this moment, his arms around her waist, pressing her close to him as he drove her to the brink of insanity with his tongue and lips.

She leaned in, craving more of him, wanting all the warmth from his body. He had a swimmer's body. Firm and taut in all the right places. And she liked it.

She could see herself with him.

He'd make a good rebound guy.

"Did you forget?" Liam asked, his voice hoarse, his ocean eyes stormy with yearning when they came up for air.

"Almost," Eden replied breathlessly. He excited and scared her all at once because she knew she was about to make what was undoubtedly her biggest mistake yet. But having spent the first twenty-four years of her life colouring within the lines with nothing to show for it except a broken engagement, for once she wanted to be a little reckless.

Liam grabbed her hand and led her out of Crush. She quickly texted her friend's while they waited for the valet to bring his Lamborghini around.

He held the passenger door for her and helped her with the seatbelt. Scared and oddly exhilarated, her body buzzed with anticipation for what lay ahead. She vaguely made out the familiar streets as they zoomed through Rock Castle and headed to a private estate, safely tucked away from commoners like her, behind boom gates and an army of guards stationed at the security booth.

They drove through a long winding road, stopping in front of a massive, steel black gate which yawned open when Liam hit a button on a small remote attached to a set of keys.

Eden gawked at the contemporary house perched on the hill, illuminated by the ground lights lining the driveway. The all-white structure, with its smooth classic lines and minimalist accents, looked like it was straight out of an architectural magazine.

A butler and a line of servants dressed in their crisp black and white uniforms, came out to greet them.

"Mr Anderson, should we prepare dinner, Sir?"

Liam waved him off. "You can take the rest of the night off, Dave. Thank you."

The front door had barely shut when Liam reached for her.

His kisses were unrestrained, unreserved and more urgent this time. He picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her up the glass staircase, through a long hallway and finally placing her on the gigantic platform bed with sheets as white as snow, and as smooth as silk to the touch.

"Do you still want to forget?" Liam asked as he dropped light kisses on her neck and slowly undressed her.

"Yes," Eden whimpered feverishly as she clumsily removed his clothes. She wanted to forget the last six weeks and thaw the ice around her heart so bad.

For hours, Liam did just that. He made her forget with his hands, cry out with his tongue, and tremble and shudder in his embrace with his body.

If he wasn't a stranger, she met at a club, if he wasn't her rebound and she wasn't his last night of freedom, their fiery encounter would have been so perfect for her first time.

"Did you forget?" Liam asked much later as they lay panting in each other's arms, their bodies sleek with sweat.

"Yes," she murmured, her tears falling on his chest. She wished there was such a thing as Rent-A-Boyfriend. She would ask for Liam all the time.

He leaned over her and kissed her so gently as he took her, more languidly this time. His bold thrusts and searing caresses sent her world crashing all around her.

"God, you are beautiful, Princess," Liam growled, and shuddered into her.

Eden desperately clung to him as another tremendous wave of pleasure hit her like a hurricane, leaving nothing but total devastation behind.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he kissed her forehead and tucked her in his arms again.

It took her a while to stop shaking. Liam held her close and let her cry, and when she was sure she had no more tears left in her, she looked at him at last.

"I am now," she lied.

She'd never be okay after this.

Not when Liam was getting married soon. Not when he'd wielded so much power over her body.

And now on her fragile heart.

3|Walk Of Shame

Eden woke up with a start, groggy and disoriented.

She sat up and immediately wished she hadn't when a throbbing pain pierced her temples.

A spark of desire surged through her when she turned and saw a naked Liam sprawled beside her. Even in his flaccid state, he was still impressive and even when she knew she shouldn't, she wanted him still, needed him, craved him.

Just thinking about last night, all the things they'd done, left her breathless.

She stretched and yawned silently, amazed at how every inch of her body ached with the slightest of movements, even the parts that she didn't think should be, were oddly alive. But as deliciously ravished as she felt, she had to get out of there quick before Liam woke up. The last thing she wanted was an awkward chat about her temporary lapse in judgement with the man who seemingly knew her body better than she knew herself, a man who was getting married soon.

She said a small prayer of thanks when she saw her cellphone and glasses on the end table. She snapped them on and sprung out of bed, wrestling with the swaying room when her feet touched the matte wooden floors.

She closed her eyes and counted backwards from ten. When she opened them again, the ground had stopped shaking, and she didn't feel so dizzy anymore.

Eden scanned the massive room, sighing in frustration as she frantically tried to locate her clothes. But her dress had mysteriously vanished. The disappearance of her underwear was another puzzle she didn't have time to solve.

She picked up Liam's denim shirt from the floor and threw it on. Surely he wouldn't miss it, she thought as she grabbed her cellphone and ran from the room with her stilettos in her hands.

Her trench lay in a miserable heap at the foot of the stairs. Funny, she didn't remember Liam taking it off.

He must have, though. The same way he took off the rest of her clothes. She trembled at the memory of every little thing he did to her, every kiss, every touch, every thrust.

"Focus!" She shook her head as she threw it on and hopped into her shoes. As deliriously thrilling as last night was, it was over. She had to put Liam behind her.

At the front door, Eden ran straight into the butler and the bevvy of housekeepers as they were reporting for duty. For a frightening minute, she was confronted with the business of making small talk with total strangers. Something she struggled with on any given day but seemed incredibly impossible today. The drama and admin of trying to make a dignified exit was the only reason she'd held on to her panties for twenty-four years and stayed away from hookups.

"Steven will drive you home, Miss–?" Dave said pleasantly.

"That's okay, I'll call a taxi," Eden ignored his polite attempt at an introduction, declining his offer with a quick shake of her head.

"It can't come in here," one of the housekeepers explained patiently.

"Of course," Eden murmured. It was a private estate. Unless the residents cleared it with security, no one could drive in willy nilly. The rules in the Hills were very different.

"Please don't worry, we do this all the time, drive Mr Anderson's guests home."

If Dave meant to reassure her, his words had the opposite effect.

Confronted by the very harsh reality of what she's done, Eden was furious with herself for letting alcohol get to her head. Her only comfort was the little bit of common sense they still had last night. They used protection. She remembered seeing the shiny foil wrappers on the floor when she ran out of Liam's fancy bedroom with the ridiculously comfortable memory foam bed and the thousand thread count sheets. The last thing she needed was to catch funny diseases.

"Miss–"

Eden snapped out of her shame-fuelled daze and grimaced at the butler; she'd missed half of what he said.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" She asked, wondering how she was so polite and calm after what was undoubtedly the worst mistake of her life.

"Would you like some breakfast before you go?"

Dumbfounded by his question, Eden could only gawk at him. Was this also part of the 'Liam Experience', being offered breakfast before her walk-of-shame, to lessen the sting of being a one night stand?

She wondered just how many guests like her Liam had. It was becoming increasingly apparent he did this all the time, brought random women home and made them his butler's problem as soon as he got bored with them.

"No, thank you," she said, her face taut with anger. She wanted to leave and run to the safety of her cramped apartment and cry herself sick.

"Very well then," Dave held the front door and showed her to the stately Lexus waiting in the endless driveway.

She jumped in the back of the car and slid low, wishing she could melt into the plush leather seats and evaporate on the car's floor.

"Where to Miss?" Steven, the driver, asked, catching her gaze in the rearview mirror.

She wanted to scream anywhere but here.

But it wasn't the driver's fault. And it wasn't Liam's either. She willingly jumped into his bed, even when her friends warned her, even when he told her he's getting married soon, even when she knew she'd regret it in the morning.

"Miss?" Steven's thick eyebrows fused in a tight frown.

"The nearest bus stop is fine," she said softly. She'd take an Uber from there. The less she had to do with Liam, the better. She couldn't allow his driver to know where she lived in case he wanted to make their one-time thing a repeat occurrence.

4|Plan B

Eden had a suspiciously long nap during the thirty-minute drive from Willow Hills to her apartment in Forrest Creek, an artsy neighbourhood in the east of Rock Castle, jerking awake when the car skidded as they hit a pothole on the road.

She yawned and stretched as she looked outside her window, feeling oddly embarrassed for passing out on her Uber driver. The last thing she remembered was him asking her if the air conditioning in the car was okay.

She couldn't decide if she was brave or just plain stupid for falling asleep in the back of a stranger's car, especially when she was dressed in nothing but a man's shirt and her coat.

She shifted in her seat and crossed her legs demurely, praying she hadn't inadvertently opened them while she slept. Going commando wasn't as liberating as she thought it would be. She felt vulnerable and well, naked.

Now that she had time to put some distance between her and last night's terrible decisions, she had to figure out the mystery surrounding her missing underwear. It wasn't in her trench as she'd expected, and it was most definitely not in Liam's room when she left.

Did he hide it from her on purpose, was he a weirdo who stole women's underwear and kept them as memorabilia to eternalise all his conquests?

The longer she thought about it, the more convinced Eden was that the massive walk-in closet she'd noticed to the left of Liam's room, next to the frosted glass door she'd assumed led to his ensuite, was filled with thousands of women's panties in all shapes, colours and sizes.

Just how many had he collected over the years? And of all the perverts at Crush what had possessed her to choose him?

"Gosh!" She moaned in her hands, her brown hair cascading in waves around her face.

"Are you okay?" Jude asked, his eyes boring holes into her through the rearview mirror.

Eden shook her head. She wasn't okay. She would never be after last night.

"We're almost there," Jude checked the ETA on his phone and threw her a reassuring smile, completely misunderstanding the reason for her misery.

She wasn't eager to get home, not with the Spanish Inquisition awaiting her. It was unavoidable, judging from the way the group chat was blowing up, but she would delay it as long as she could.

"Drop me off at the corner over there, please," she told the driver, pointing at a busy intersection up ahead.

He turned in his seat, his face laced with concern. "Are you sure?"

Yes, she was. She needed carbs. Lots of them. And maybe Plan B. She could never go wrong with Plan B.

"Don't forget to rate me five stars!" Jude called after her as she slipped out of the Toyota Quest.

Did he deserve five stars though, Eden wondered as she crossed the road and made her way to the bakery on the corner of 5th Street and Main Avenue.

It was just after 8:00 AM, but the neighbourhood was already a flurry of activity with people going about their Saturday morning errands and market vendors pushing their carts, getting ready to make a killing at the flea market at the rooftop of the Civic Theatre.

As the Arts District, this side of Rock Castle was not in short supply of galleries, trendy coffee shops and rooftop gardens. Anything your artsy, indie heart desired, from poetry recitals to exhibitions and private culinary experiences, you'd find it all here.

Eden shuffled forward in the queue, already anticipating the way the chocolate croissants would melt in her mouth.

She couldn't remember who'd suggested it, but since they all had a passion for the arts and various Honours Degrees to back it up, moving to Forrest Creek made sense at the time. They all had dreams of making it big in their respective careers. But three years on, they were still waiting to catch their big breaks.

She still hadn't struck gold as a children's book illustrator.

Lydia's acting dreams hadn't soared yet, but her vlogs had thrust her in the limelight. So that was something.

The only columns Sienna ever wrote were for Forrest Creek Times, a glorified newsletter, disguised as a free community newspaper.

As a pastry chef, Cassandra was still trying to come up with a dessert recipe that will turn the culinary world on its head.

But despite the slight delay in all their dreams, they were all happy here. Leaving her parents' overpriced penthouse at the heart of Rock Castle and moving in with her friends was the best decision Eden had ever made. If she still lived under their roof, she'd have to face more than a Spanish Inquisition. Her parents were still getting over their bitter disappointment over her failed engagement; a one night stand would send them to their early graves.

At last, she made it to the counter but sighed with disappointment when she saw everything, except bran muffins, was sold out. She didn't want bran muffins, but she was depressed. And it's a rule to gorge yourself till you pass out when you're depressed.

She bought twelve and ate two as she walked three blocks in the opposite direction, away from her flat, to the obscure pharmacy on Diagonal alley.

The girl behind the counter was nice. She didn't ask too many questions and didn't give her a judgy look as she discreetly handed her an inconspicuous looking box. Even though they were alone, Drew-that's what the name tag on her coat said-gave her instructions on how to take the pill, in hushed tones, as if the aging, peeling walls had ears.

"You have to take it as a single dose, within twenty-four hours for best results," she said earnestly, her moss green eyes wide with panic for her.

"Thanks," Eden mumbled as she flashed her cheque card and Drew rung her up.

5|Supernatural

Eden circled back to her apartment and unlocked the fourth-floor unit she shared with her friends. She took off her shoes and snuck inside quietly, careful not to bang the door in case she woke everyone up.

But when she turned around and found three pairs of eyes, shining with anticipation, her plan of making a quiet entrance went up in smoke.

"Hi guys," Eden grimaced, her face as red as the angry birds T-shirt Sienna wore over her grey pyjama pants.

"It smells like a walk of shame in here," Lydia sniffed the air dramatically, and the other two broke into peals of laughter.

"Tsk tsk," Sienna clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "So much for saving yourself for marriage!"

"We've revoked your sainthood," Cassandra chimed in as she took the muffin box from her, scowling when she peeked inside. She hated any store-bought goodies because she knew she could do a way better job. But today her disappointment, as she loudly made it known, was not with the muffins.

"Really, with all the bazillions in his bank accounts, he sent you off with only ten muffins? What happened to diamonds being a girl's best friend? Who is this guy?" She threw her hands up dramatically, shoved the box in Sienna's hands and vanished beyond the entryway.

"You, Missy, have some explaining to do!" Lydia grabbed Eden's hand and dragged her to the living room where Cassandra sat on the grey L-shaped couch poring over a newly published cookbook by a has-been reality TV star, her knees tucked to her chin.

Sienna remained in the kitchen and made everyone coffee to have with the muffins. She was the Mom of the group and indulged everyone. Cassandra took on the Dad role and kept everyone in line. Lydia, the rebellious child, kept them all on their toes with all her mischief. And Eden's sainthood, which she had now lost overnight, had made her the wise sage. Everyone came to her with all their problems, never mind that she was the least experienced and the most naive of the four.

"You are not allowed to start without me!" Sienna yelled from the kitchen, her voice competing with the kettle whistling on the gas cooker.

"Tell us already," Lydia was practically jumping from her position on the paint-splash patterned rug.

"There's nothing to tell," Eden shrugged as she crashed in the teal wingback chair they affectionately called the throne. They picked it up for a steal at the flea market when they first moved in, and they've fought over it since. Not because it was so comfortable, but because of the sun sneaking through the lace-curtained windows behind it. Their flat was morbidly cold, so any bit of warmth was a luxury around here. After the night she had, Eden thought she deserved to sit on the throne the whole day.

"I'm here, the tale of the virgin saint ravished by a roguish prince can begin!" Sienna squealed as she rushed in with a tray of steaming yellow mugs and a matching plate, overflowing with muffins and two-days old hot cross buns.

"There was no ravishing!" Eden said crossly and took her mug.

"Sure, says the stench of sex clinging all over you," Lydia nodded innocently.

Eden quickly sniffed herself, sending her friends into another round of giggles.

"Stop it, you guys!" She pouted and drank her coffee. Even with all the gallons of milk, it was still bitter. Sienna didn't make good coffee, and they all knew this, but they continually trusted her with this very sacred job.

"Just one question," Cassandra gasped for air, struggling to breathe and laugh all at once. "Are his pubes just as red?"

"Oh my god, you went there!" Sienna rolled on the couch, tears streaming down her face.

"No comment!" Eden clenched her teeth, her arms crossed over her chest, she glared straight ahead. She would never tell her friends this, and she figured they knew the answer anyway, but yes, his hairs were fiery down there too, but a much darker shade and oh how she had loved touching him.

A familiar ache tingled between her thighs as she remembered how full she'd felt when Liam was buried deep inside her. She bit her lower lip, stifling a whimper.

"Eden! Snap out of it, OMG, you are practically drooling." Lydia screamed, "what were you thinking about?"

"Nothing." She lied quickly, her cheeks as hot as the moistness at her centre. She didn't understand how she could be so wet just thinking about Liam.

"So? How was your first time?" Sienna asked, all the amusement gone from her eyes. "Was he as good as his past lays claim he is?"

Eden thought for a moment; she had no previous experience to compare with. But for her first time, other than the soreness and tenderness she felt every time she moved, she had no complaints. She wouldn't mind seconds and thirds and maybe tenths and hundreds. Liam knew how to please her, how to touch her and how to make her scream. Just her rotten luck he's taken.

"So, how was it?" Cassandra asked, and Eden blinked, stunned by the expectation in the six eyes glued to her.

"Well," she pushed up her glasses and bit her lower lip shyly. "It was supernatural."

"Oh my god!" Her friends screamed in unison, jumping and wiggling all over the place.

"Are you seeing him again?" Sienna asked, her eyes hopeful.

Eden shook her head and burst into tears.

"Oh dear, was is that good you have to cry?" Cassandra asked as they all reached for her and held her.

"He's getting married, you guys!" She bawled, snot and tears dripping down her face. "He's getting married, and I want him so bad! I want him to make me feel good again!"

"What do you mean he's getting married?" Lydia's eyes were wide with shock. "He has a three-month rule."

"He found someone who made him want to break his three-month rule," Eden wailed some more as she took a Kleenex box from Sienna and blew her nose. For someone so tiny, she always stunned everyone with the loud, unnatural sounds she makes when she blows her nose.

"That can't be," Cassandra said. "There's no way Rock Castle's numero uno billionaire playboy will ever get married."

"He is," Eden insisted and went on to explain how she found out about his impending wedding.

"So that's why they were there? To celebrate his bachelor party?"

Eden nodded.

"And he still took you home with him?" Sienna fumed. "Unbelievable! What a dick!"

"Well, I asked him," Eden admitted. It would be so easy to let him take all the blame, but she couldn't bring herself to do that. She had to own her part.

"Why would you do that when you knew he's getting married?" Cassandra asked in a patient tone, stepping into her Dad role with ease.

"I wanted to be a little reckless!" Eden yelled, shocking everyone with her misplaced rage. "I was a good girl for twenty-four years, followed all the rules, saved myself for the right guy and what the hell do I have to show for it? A broken engagement one month before what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life."

"Eden, I'm so sorry," Cassandra said softly.

"If everyone played fair and stuck to the rules, I'll still be in Greece right now, enjoying my honeymoon with my new husband," Eden said. "I know it was wrong, and I shouldn't have, and now I'm as nasty as Olive for sleeping with someone else's man. But I got tired of playing fair, and I was hurting. And you know what, for at least seven hours I was happy in Liam's arms. God, I was so happy, and now all I feel is the same hollowness I've felt for the past six weeks."

"Oh, dear!" Sienna said. "You sound like you have it bad for this guy."

Her words blew Eden's mind, and she couldn't understand how Sienna had even come to that conclusion.

"No. Liam was my rebound guy. I'm still in love with Simon."

"Is that why you're still wearing that?" Lydia glared at the Princess cut diamond ring dazzling on her finger.

"You have to take it off," Cassandra repeated what she's been saying these past few weeks.

And like she's done of late, Eden refused to listen to their well-meaning advice. She knew keeping the ring was tacky as fuck, and she should have returned it. But it was the only tangible thing she had to remind her the past four years were real, that their love was real, and she meant something to Simon once upon a time.

If he'd let her keep Snow, the Maltese poodle they jointly adopted from the animal shelter they volunteered at, she would have given him his ring back.

"I'm going to bed," she said as she finished her coffee and placed the mug on the bamboo coffee table, a hand me down from Sienna's folks.

"Are you seeing your parents today, should we wake you up later?" Lydia called after her, and Eden shrugged them off. Her parents, in not so many words, had made it very clear the end of her engagement was solely her fault. She wasn't in the mood for another self-esteem bashing, accusatory session disguised as a good-intentioned lunch.

In her room, she drew the curtains and buried herself under the heavy, brightly coloured duvet and the millions of scatter cushions on her queen-sized poster bed, and cried herself to sleep.

The last sane thought she had before dreams about Liam filled her troubled mind was if she'd ever get to feel thousand-thread count sheets again.

6|Used & Oddly Betrayed

It was past midday when Liam finally came out of his postcoital coma. He expected to find Eden beside him; it wouldn't be the first time his hookups overstayed their welcome.

But when he turned onto his side and found her spot empty, he was strangely confused.

He sat up and groaned. His pounding head made worse by the glaring light bursting through the floor to ceiling windows as his butler flicked the switch on the wall to draw the blinds.

"Christ, Dave, do you mind?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, you have been summoned to the house. Your father wants to see you immediately."

"Tell him I can't see him today," Liam groaned as he gladly accepted the hangover cure and two Aspirins. He had a feeling he'd need something stronger than an Aspirin if his father has his way.

"He needs you home in an hour," Dave said and turned to leave.

Liam stopped him, "Handle Eden for me."

"She's gone already, Sir."

"What do you mean gone?" Liam asked, stunned by his butler's announcement.

"Exactly that, Sir."

"Did she cause a scene?" They always did. He wouldn't be surprised if Eden had too.

"No, Sir. She seemed eager to leave. She practically ran out of the house. If it were up to her, she would have left in an Uber–"

"That makes no sense," Liam shook his head. He didn't usually bring women home; his life on the track kept him busy enough. But the ones he did, and especially after they find out what he does, he always had to make them leave. Sometimes security had to step in too.

"Are you sure it was Eden? Brown hair, petite, cute, this short?" He asked, describing Eden and demonstrating her height with his hand.

Dave nodded.

Liam was sure there's some miscommunication between him and the butler. He held out his hand for his robe, baffled by this turn of events. He threw it on and slipped out of bed.

He padded downstairs, checking the living room and dining area. When he didn't find Eden, he stepped onto the patio, convinced she's lazing in the heated pool.

But there was no sign of the mousey librarian anywhere, and it blew his mind. He didn't see it coming, Eden sneaking off while he slept. He should have been happy that she'd saved him the trouble of making awkward small talk after a hookup, but he wasn't. Maybe because she didn't strike him as someone who'd up and leave, not with that temper and the bold way she came on to him.

He'd expected her to start thinking their one time, never to be repeated experience could lead to a more permanent solution. And to let her down gently, he'd already resolved to take her shopping, let her choose the shiniest diamond necklace she can find and drop her off at her duplex somewhere. She had one-bedroom duplex vibes all over her.

Who the hell does she think she is? Liam fumed as he retraced his steps back to the master bedroom. The idea that a woman who was way below his league, in looks and wealth, saw it fit to use him for sex and walk out on him filled him with anger he's never known before.

He sat on the edge of the bed and thought back to last night.

Admittedly it wasn't the best sex he ever had. But he loved the way she'd responded to him. It was crazy to think they'd just met, but her body knew him. She came alive at his touch, and he liked the way she had moaned out his name like no woman ever had. She seemed happy to be in his arms. So, for her to run off without so much as a thank you, or a goodbye was soul-crushing to say the least.

He felt used and oddly betrayed. Two emotions he never thought he'd feel after a hookup.

Dave came back with more stunning revelations as he placed Eden's clothes on the bed. "She left these."

"Woah! Was she in such a hurry to get away from me she left naked?" Liam was almost shouting now.

Who was this woman, but more importantly was his lovemaking so terrible she couldn't even wait to at least throw on some clothes before she left? At that moment, Liam felt vulnerable and a little insecure. No woman had ever snuck off like this after spending a night with him.

"No, Sir, she was in your shirt and her coat," Dave explained. "Mrs Stone washed her clothes after she left."

Liam breathed a sigh of relief at Dave's words. At least he wasn't so terrible; she didn't run off naked. But-

He glared at the older man, "she left in my shirt, you say?"

Dave nodded and excused himself, and Liam shook his head. She was bold, this Eden. He had to find her and make her explain herself.

He glared at her dress and the pink lacy panties. What the hell was he supposed to do with them now?

Still hungover and certainly in no mood to entertain his father, Liam returned to the warmth of his bed and passed out again, oddly comforted by the smell of his lovemaking with Eden lingering on his sheets.

Dave jolted him awake again sometime after 3:00 PM, with a final notice from his father. If he didn't make an appearance within an hour, Clarke Liam Anderson Senior would have no choice but to come over and hash things out with him.

Liam knew he wasn't kidding. He reluctantly dragged himself out of bed and took a shower, spending a ridiculously amount of time under the soothing sprays to delay the dreaded meeting for a little while longer.

To say he and his father have a love-hate relationship was an understatement. When things were good between them, they were the best of friends. But when they were bad, as they have been over the past several weeks, one would swear they were enemies.

The source of their conflict was the company's succession plan. His father had decided to step down as CEO, and Liam would have to fill his enormous shoes as soon as Monday.

Still irritated at being summoned, Liam stepped out of the shower and dried himself, noticing for the first time a hickey on his neck as he toweled off in front of the mirror. He was angered anew by Eden's boldness. As if leaving him wasn't bad enough, she had to brand him too.

7|Summoned

As Liam cruised through the quiet, jacaranda tree-lined streets of Glen Eagles, an affluent suburb north of Rock Castle, it wasn't the meeting with his father that occupied his thoughts. He was still fuming over Eden, bewildered that she had the nerve to leave him.

It would have been comical if it wasn't so mortifying.

He stopped outside the massive, black iron-wrought gate in front of a sprawling mansion on the cul de sac, rolled down his window and jabbed at the intercom irritably.

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently to the beat of the fast-paced dance tune shaking the metal walls of his Ferrari as he waited for one of several housekeepers and butlers to buzz him in. The Lamborghini he drove last night was at the garage. He vaguely remembered Steven, his driver, mention something about it needing maintenance before he left.

Within seconds the gate squeaked inward, and Liam eased into a circular driveway surrounded by manicured lawns and immaculate gardens. His childhood home was as vibrant now in the winter months as it was at the height of summer. The army of landscapers that came in twice a week made sure of it. With her love of plants, it was the one thing his mom, insisted on. Too bad she didn't have a green thumb; otherwise she'd do everything herself.

Richard stood tall and proud in his butler's uniform as he waited at the front door to welcome him home.

"Master Anderson," the head butler beamed as he gave Liam a bear hug and grasped his hand in a firm handshake. Richard was always an affectionate man but had become more sentimental as the grey hairs on his head multiplied.

"Good to see you again, Rich!" He went along with the effusive greeting even though they just saw each other last week when he reported for the mandatory family dinner he and his two younger sisters had to attend weekly without exception.

"You kept your old man waiting, he's not happy with you," the butler chuckled as he dragged him inside the house.

Liam's stomach grumbled when he caught a whiff of something delicious–probably roast chicken, that's what they had on Saturdays– as he made his way through the house, past the gourmet kitchen leading into the formal dining room and lounge. Other than Dave's hangover cure, he hadn't eaten anything since last night.

He poked his head inside his mother's studio, directly opposite the guest bathroom.

Lois Anderson sat in front of the easel, staring at the colossal spouting fountain beyond her window. Her greying black hair floated on her back in a long French braid, contrasting with the pale pink satin blouse she wore over white cotton pants. Dainty-looking ballet pumps matching her shirt adorned her feet. From her slumped shoulders and the blank canvass, Liam figured inspiration was not in abundance today.

"There she is!" He said with a hint of a smile in his voice. "The most beautiful woman in the world!"

His mom turned, a bright grin split her face when she saw him lingering in the doorway. But her pale green eyes remained moist with tears. She brushed them away quickly and danced into his outstretched arms.

"There he is, the most handsome son in the world!"

Liam kissed her cheek; her luxurious yet familiar fragrance tickled his nose. It's one of the earliest smells he remembered from his childhood, warm and comforting. If he had to describe love in one word, it would be his mother's scent.

"Still struggling to paint?" He asked when they eased apart.

Lois nodded but didn't say anything, a sad look in her eyes as she linked their arms, and they made their way to the study at the end of the hallway.

"Maybe you just need a break," Liam suggested. But she was on a break, and it was going on six months now.

"Maybe I should quit, take up another hobby."

"Hey, creativity can't be rushed," he consoled her as he squeezed her shoulder.

Clarke Liam Anderson Senior sat behind a large, mahogany executive desk in the centre of the room, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in a tight frown as he peered at the document in his hand. The bright sunlight streaming through the enormous French windows behind him, bathing him in its soft glow, gave him an almost ethereal quality. But in all fairness, the man had earned himself a god-like status amongst his peers with his achievements.

Watching his father was like seeing himself in another forty years or so. With their red hair, pale colouring and blue eyes, they were mirror images. Their towering, athletic frames was another thing they shared.

But that's where all the likeness ended.

Clarke was well known and adored for his generosity, compassion and visionary leadership.

Liam, on the other hand, gave truth to all the cliches about redheads and their fiery tempers. It didn't take much to set him off, which would explain why Eden's stunt had pissed him off so much.

At twenty-eight he's had lots of success in his career. Still, his constant scandals playing out in the tabloids overshadowed all his achievements, and he suspected this was the real reason for Senior speeding up his succession plan.

"Where are your glasses, why aren't you using them?" Liam asked as his mother gently pushed him forward.

Clarke glared at him for a second before he dutifully pulled up the glasses dangling on a black string around his neck.

Liam sat on the brown Chesterfield armchair to the left of the grand fireplace. His mother propped herself on the three-seater facing the fire. She picked up a Business Insider magazine and leafed through it absently.

She seemed listless, almost as if she had a lot on her mind, and Liam wondered if it was more than just her inability to paint.

He reached for her hand and squeezed it, his eyes roaming over the array of family photographs lined up on the mantel, showing off decades of memories, mostly of the three Anderson children during various milestones and proudest moments in their lives. First and last days of school, matric dances, graduations. Important defining moments. But there were several missing from the neatly arranged timeline, and they all had to do with him—the most recent being his seventh tournament win.

Liam rested his arms over his taut stomach as he eased back in his chair and enjoyed the fire; he didn't realise he was cold until he felt the warmth in here.

8|Destiny

With several bookshelves and thousands of books lining the wood-panelled walls and the dark furnishings reminiscent of a centuries-old gentleman's club, his father's study was probably the most intense room in the house. But, it was also one of Liam's favourite places.

He remembered all the rare times he, Willow and Holly had spent in here, crowded on the floor while they read or played with their toys, happy to have their father home and wanting to be as close to him as possible because they never knew when they'll see him again. Clarke was always out of town, out of the country, chasing one big fish of a client after another. He missed so many important days. Probably why most had ended up as snapshots lined up on the fireplace.

Liam and his sisters never resented him, though. When Clarke was present, he was the best father in the world, and when he wasn't, he spoiled them rotten with insane gifts flown from all over the world to make up for his absence.

"Thank you for gracing me with your presence, Son," Clarke's wry drawl pulled Liam out of his thoughts.

His father turned off his MacBook and left his place behind the desk.

"Hi sweetheart," he murmured as he sat beside Lois and kissed her cheek. "Are you okay?"

Lois smiled, blushing prettily like a schoolgirl on her first date as they held hands.

Liam watched them wistfully and sighed. They always made him feel like a third wheel. Most of his friends' parents were divorced, he knew how lucky he was to have parents who were still in love today, as they were when they tied the knot over thirty years ago. Their commitment to each other was inspiring, and he prayed he finds something just as enduring and meaningful.

Mrs Horowitz, the housekeeper, knocked once on the ajar door and came in with a smile and a tray loaded with their afternoon refreshments.

Liam happily poured himself a cup of coffee and grabbed a handful of macarons.

His mother excused herself when she remembered she had to check on the catering for Monday night's dinner with the board members. If Clarke had his way, it would be Liam's first official engagement as CEO.

"The board meeting on Monday," Clarke began when they were alone again, and for over an hour Liam listened to him drone on about the importance of having good relationships with the board. Strong, healthy relationships would strengthen his position within the company.

"I don't need to remind you about your cousins," Clarke carried on. "They will do anything to undermine your position, and the minute they sense any weakness they'll attack. You cannot keep your guard down!"

Liam disagreed. Sure, Julian and Matthew were both highly ambitious and wouldn't shy away from senior positions in the company. But they had accomplished a lot in their own right.

He'd never admit this to his father, but he thought the brothers deserved a shot as CEO. They've poured their blood, sweat and tears into Anderson Logistics, Matthew in his capacity as a junior Creative Director and Julian as an Accountant. If he has to take over, Liam planned to make his cousins his allies. He could never understand how Clarke had sidelined his younger brother to a point where Sullivan, Julian and Matthew's father, had to give up all involvement with the company.

"Are you even paying attention?" Clarke demanded. "That Julian is a lying snake–"

"Dad, please," Liam shook his head. He didn't want to get into it with him. That 'lying snake' and his brother were not only his cousins but his best friends too. They took him to Crush last night to cheer him up. They were always there for all his tournament wins and losses. They pushed him into getting his competition license and even paid for his all racing courses when Clarke froze all his bank accounts in hopes he'd give up and join the family business. Without their support, Liam knew he would never have even earned himself a spot on Rock Union's motorsport team.

"I get it," Liam added as he downed his now cold coffee. He couldn't even finish half a macaron because it was too damn sweet.

"I don't think you do," Clark breathed in hard, a sign he was losing his patience with him fast.

To appease him, Liam nodded and leaned back in his chair, crossing his feet. His old man's speech wasn't anything he hadn't heard before; after all, this was all Clarke has ever talked about since Liam was old enough to read and understand the Business Insider. This time was different, though. He wasn't nine years old anymore. When he stepped into Anderson Logistics headquarters on Monday, he'll be the youngest CEO and board member in the history of the company.

As much as Liam hated it, and wished he could do something about it, as the eldest child and the only son, taking over the family's mega-billions operation became his destiny the moment he was born.

All three Clarke Liam Andersons before him spearheaded the family's logistics business through some of the most challenging economic meltdowns. They ushered in thousands of innovations to make Anderson Logistics the formidable giant that it is today and solidify their place in the industry. The time for Liam to step up and lead the group had finally come.

But it wasn't so much the leading he had an issue with. It was the cost that came with it, the price he'd have to pay. Surrendering his freedom and giving up on his dream. It's a loss he was struggling to come to grips with, a loss that sent him to Crush last night in a hopeless attempt to hold on to life as he knew it.

"But we agreed you'll give me time," Liam reminded him when it became clear they had exhausted all points of discussion. "I love what I do, and I'm not ready to give it up."

From the time his uncle, Sullivan, bought him his first life-size toy car, he must have been about five or six, Liam knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life behind the wheel, racing for the best team in the world. It was something he'd pursued relentlessly over the years, despite his father opposing him at every turn. It was a long hard road, especially without Clarke's support, but he'd made a name for himself in the world of motorsports and had recently won the Iconic 9 Hour Race at Rock Union's Grand Prix circuit.

"Do you think I was ready when I took over from my father?" His father whipped up his head fast, his eyes blazing with fury. "Do you think I wanted to? Trust me, I wanted nothing more than to live out my happy days with your Mom and you kids, but there were eight hundred people who needed me, who depended on me for their livelihood. Like it or not, Liam, you have a responsibility!”

"I didn't ask for it!" Liam refused to back down, and their Saturday afternoon meeting that should have been a quick amicable twenty-minute chat, spun out of control as they ranted and raged at each other.

Clarke did most of the shouting. And Liam reached for the whisky on the mantelpiece and did a lot of the drinking.

Clarke was tired of Liam's philandering ways and life of debauchery; he was continually disappointed with all the scandals he had to read about him weekly.

"For once, can you make me proud and earn yourself a cover of Business Insider? Is it so difficult?"

"For once, can you be proud of my achievements, I just had my seventh tournament win. I was on the cover of Motor Mag, doesn't that count for something?"

Of course, it didn't. Clarke thought it's time he gave up his 'hobby' and earned a living like everyone else.

"A 9 to 5 job will kill me! I'm not meant for it!"

A corner office, with its amazing 360 views, wasn't for him. He would die, maybe not physically, but it would break his spirit if he has to spend the rest of his life behind a desk.

Nothing came close to the raw adrenaline rush he felt every time he put on his suit, snapped on his helmet and took his place behind the wheel. Or the exhilarating feeling he got when he pushed his Porsche 911 GT to its limit and still come out of it in one piece. Not even sex, not the tons of money in his bank accounts, not even holding up a tournament cup while thousands of people cheered him on. It was an unparalleled feeling he couldn't bear to lose.

"Well that 9 to 5 job you hate so much has paid for your elite education! It's time you put that MBA to good use!"

Liam dug in his heels, refusing to be backed into something he wasn't ready to take on.

If his father had a more compelling reason for his sudden retirement, he would have no issue stepping in.

But Clarke wanted to focus more on the family he'd neglected for over twenty years, and maybe travel the world like he always wanted.

Liam was happy for him; he only wished it wasn't at the expense of his dreams.

"This is happening. All the paperwork has been processed, the board has agreed. Your first appointment is at 6:00 AM. Mrs Gibson will call you with the details!" Clarke's words were final, nothing Liam said would change his mind.

Defeated, Liam stood up, grabbed his car keys and wallet on the coffee table and stalked to the door.

"I will never forgive you for this!" He vowed over his shoulder as he rapidly made his way out of the study.

Liam was so enraged he knew if he's around other people he'd end up hurting someone. He jumped in his car and sped to the race circuit south of Rock Union's business district where he spent a good few hours on the track, lap after lap, burning fuel faster than his rage.

The call that changed Liam's life forever came much later when all the anger had eased from his body, and he was ready to try and see things from his father's perspective.

9|Quick Sand

The call came just as Liam left the race track.

When he saw the name flashing on the screen, he ignored it, and his sister went to his voicemail. He wasn't in the mood to listen to Willow go off at him about his irresponsible, selfish actions. They'd had a lot of such calls in the past several weeks, starting when Senior first brought up his succession plan.

His phone pinged again. This time it was a text from Holly, the youngest Anderson child. As the baby of the family, Holly was the most spoilt and self-entitled.

Their parents could never refuse her anything. Liam figured being a renowned ballerina helped, because no matter how ridiculous her demands were, Clarke and Lois would bend over backwards to cater to her every want and need.

When Holly wanted her very own private ballet studio, Clarke had bought a warehouse and refurbished it specifically for her needs.

When she demanded a six-bedroom penthouse in Rock Castles' prime location, an army of realtors had to run around like headless chickens to secure it for her, never mind that the place would stay empty because she was hardly in the country.

The most ridiculous of her whims though was that one time when all the boutiques on 9th Street had to be closed because she wanted to choose her fifty thousand pair of shoes and matching handbags without all the commoners gawking at her.

Her text was yet another demand. She wanted Liam to get his ass to the Medi-Clinic in Glen Eagles ASAP.

Willow called again. He put her on speaker. His heart crashed to his feet when her desperate sobs filled the car.

It took him a few minutes to calm her down and get her to tell him what's wrong.

"It's Dad," she bawled on her end, "You have to come to the hospital!"

Liam hung up and made a U-turn, ignoring the huge warning sign forbidding him from making a turn there. He skipped every red traffic light and ignored the millions of car horns blaring at him. His eyes were firmly on the road ahead, but his mind was back in his father's study, replaying their heated exchange and the last words he said to him.

In the ten minutes it took him to get to the hospital, he prayed harder and more times than he's ever done in his life. He made silent promises and bargained with everything he had. He'd give it all up, his dreams, racing, the tournaments if it meant having just one more hour with his father.

Liam didn't know how he got to the hospital; he snapped out of his daze when he pulled up in the visitor's parking lot and heard screeching ambulances race off to save lives somewhere.

Both his sisters came to meet him at the entrance.

On most days, Holly and Willow–both named after trees because of their Mom's love for plants–were immaculate visions of class and poise. With their ink-black hair, large green eyes, porcelain skin and slim frames, they could easily pass for twins despite the four-year difference between them.

Tonight, though, they were both dishevelled, their faces splotchy with tears and snot, their eyes red and hollow with fear.

They threw themselves in his arms when they saw him. He hugged them tight and tried to assure them as best as he could even though he didn't know what the situation was.

"What happened? Where's Mom and Dad?" He asked as he released them from his embrace, and they headed to elevators to take them to the VIP wing.

"Dad's very sick, Liam," Willow said in a tearful voice.

"That can't be," Liam shook his head, refusing to accept something's wrong with Clarke. The man has never missed a day at the office because of an illness. "There has to be a mistake. I saw him today. He was fine!"

"That's what he wanted you to think," Holly murmured. "He's been sick for a while now."

Liam paused and stared at the two of them, a suspicious scowl on his face. "How long is a while and what's wrong with him?"

"About six months," Holly replied.

"Colon cancer," Willow added.

The air swooshed out of Liam's lungs. For a stunning moment, he felt like he was sinking in quicksand as he gasped, convinced his sister's announcement would suffocate him. The worst though was the silence, the terrible, never-ending silence. He couldn't hear anything except Willow's words, echoing in his mind over and over.

Colon cancer.

Wasn't that for really older people?

Clarke wasn't old. At 58 he still had a lot of life in him, and he was the healthiest person Liam knew.

His father took care of himself, exercised at least an hour every day. He played golf on Saturdays, went bowling on Sundays. And the most sinful thing he ever ate was a thin slice of cake for dessert, and only on special occasions.

What Willow said didn't make sense to him.

"No!" Liam shook his head in denial as he forced air into his lungs. "You are wrong! Dad is not sick. Dad would never get cancer!"

"Liam," Holly reached for him and held him close, trying to keep him from unravelling right there in the middle of the corridor. "Dad is not okay."

"He would have told me if he was sick," Liam brushed off her hand, and they began walking again.

"He didn't want you to worry," Willow explained. "After you take over, he and mom planned to go overseas to get treatment."

"He should have told me sooner!" Liam raged as they stepped inside the elevator. "I wouldn't have fought him so hard. How bad is it?"

"Enough to require immediate surgery to remove part of his colon," Holly said.

Liam stared at his sisters, an incredulous look in his eyes. They both seemed to know so much about their father's condition.

"Am I the only one who didn't know?" He asked softly.

"We wanted to tell you, but Dad made us promise not to. He knew you were training hard for the tournament and he didn't want to take your focus away from the competition." Willow murmured as she rubbed her swollen eyes.

"You think I care about any of that now–" He was about to lose his shit, but the elevator dinged open, pausing what would have undoubtedly been their biggest fight yet.

10|With Little Preparation

There were several guards stationed throughout the floor and two outside Clarke's private ward. Their only job was to keep the media out. The last thing they wanted was stories of his father, true or otherwise, making the rounds. A CEO on his deathbed wasn't good for business and share prices.

Lois flew to him when they walked in. He hugged her, and she wept harder as he gently patted her head. It all made sense now, Liam thought, her lack of inspiration, the listlessness, the faraway look in her eyes. It wasn't that she couldn't paint. His Mom didn't want to. How could she when her best friend and soulmate was staring death in the face?

"Oh Mom," Liam whispered in her hair as he squeezed her. "You should have told me."

"You are here now," Lois gave him a shaky smile as she sat down again and took his father's hand.

Liam reluctantly approached the bed, a visceral feeling of terror bubbling at the pit of his stomach. He couldn't understand how Clarke had shrunk and aged so much in a space of a few hours. But, his father looked so serene as he slept. Liam knew, though, there was nothing peaceful about what he was going through, not with all the constant beeping and wheezing of the machines working overtime to keep him comfortable and the tons of tubes attached to him.

He leaned over and kissed his forehead.

Clarke opened his eyes. "There he is–" He said in a weak voice and tried to point a frail finger at him.

At that moment Liam would have given anything to hear his strong, roaring voice, the same one he'd used earlier to back him into a corner.

"You are such an old fool," Liam whispered.

"I guess you take after me then," Clarke shot back, and they both laughed tearfully.

"We are going to fix you," Liam said with conviction. "We'll beat this, and you'll come back stronger. I need you to come back and kick my butt and question all the decisions I make for Anderson Logistics."

"Don't complain when I do." His father's chuckle turned into a long fit of convulsive coughs that didn't seem to stop, even after making him take small sips of water.

Willow and Holly called in his doctors, and for fifteen minutes, the room was in chaos as they worked frantically to get him comfortable. Clarke passed out soon after they gave him a shot of morphine. Liam suggested they give his Mom something to help her sleep too, but Lois refused. She wanted to keep vigil over her husband.

Liam met with the doctors in a bland conference room on the administration floor, and they discussed his father's treatment plan.

"What's the prognosis?" He asked Dr Smith, the lead oncologist.

She's happy they caught the disease early enough, but she was worried it could have spread in the six months Clarke had delayed in getting treatment. As things stood, she and her team were running numerous tests to figure out the extent of the damage.

"I get that, but what are his chances?"

Dr Smith gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "We'll do everything we can to fight this. The five-year survival rate is about ninety percent."

Liam wished they didn't have to discuss the odds, but ninety percent sounded promising to him.

Almost an hour later, he left the conference room more optimistic than he was when he entered.

He checked on his father again. Clarke was still out cold, and so was his Mom. Both his sisters were wide awake, though, working furiously on their laptops.

Holly had to cancel her midday recital at the Civic Theatre and all other future performances until further notice.

Willow also had a nightmare on her hands with a new art installation at Fugue Art Gallery in Forrest Creek where she worked as a curator. She'd have to miss the first few showings, but her assistant would handle things in her absence.

He'd barely sat down in the only other empty seat in the room next to the bed when Mrs Gibson and her impressive troop of assistants showed up, and life as Liam knew it was over.

From that moment on, with little preparation and no guidance, he stepped into the CEO role he'd fought so hard to reject.