His Name Was Liam Sinclair

Chapter One

I still remember the first time I heard his name.

“Liam Sinclair?” I echoed, leaning against the kitchen counter as my father spoke over the phone. “Who’s that?”

My dad raised an eyebrow at me and turned away, speaking into his phone. “Yeah, Liam, I’ll be there in twenty. Don’t sign anything until I arrive.”

I narrowed my eyes. The name sounded powerful. Dangerous, even. And it rolled off my tongue like forbidden candy.

“Is he your friend?” I asked the moment he hung up.

He paused mid-step, clearly in a rush. “He’s not just my friend, Isla. He’s family—closer than blood.”

That was the beginning. The spark. The ignition of an obsession I never saw coming.

“Is he hot?” I teased, trying to play it off as a joke, but my pulse betrayed me. I was seventeen, and anything that carried danger had me hooked.

Dad shot me a look. “He’s thirty-eight, Isla.”

“That didn’t answer the question,” I muttered under my breath, turning toward the sink to hide my smile.

He sighed. “He’s powerful. Focus on your schoolwork, not grown men.”

Too late, I thought.

That night, I Googled him.

Liam Sinclair. Billionaire. CEO of Sinclair International.

My fingers trembled as I clicked through photo after photo. A commanding figure in sharp suits, steel-gray eyes that looked like they’d seen a hundred wars, and a jawline cut from marble. He had the kind of presence that made silence feel loud.

“I swear to God,” I whispered into my dark room, “this man can ruin me.”

My phone buzzed. A text from my best friend, Harper.

> You coming to the lake house this weekend?

> Can’t. Dad’s dragging me to some business meeting. Boring stuff.

> Ew. Who with?

> His hot friend. Liam Sinclair.

> OHMYGOD. THAT name? Girl, record everything. We need evidence.

I smirked. “Oh, I’ll do more than that,” I whispered.

The meeting was at a private golf club two towns over. It smelled like money and smoked whiskey. I walked beside my dad in a white sundress that hugged me a little too well. My way of rebelling in silence.

“Don’t say a word when we get there,” he warned. “This is serious business.”

“I’m just observing,” I said sweetly, fluttering my lashes. “Promise.”

The door to the VIP suite swung open.

And then I saw him.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair slicked back with a few stubborn strands that fell across his forehead. He wasn’t smiling—he didn’t need to. His aura spoke louder than words.

“Liam,” Dad greeted, pulling him in for a firm hug.

I stood there, trying not to visibly melt.

“This is my daughter, Isla.”

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, the world tilted.

I wasn’t sure if it was real—or just my teen fantasies exploding in high definition—but the way his gaze held mine felt like fire and ice colliding.

“Isla,” he said, my name like velvet on his lips. “You’ve grown up.”

“You know me?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“I held you when you were born.”

Great, I thought. I’m a baby in his eyes.

But then… his eyes dipped. Briefly. A flicker of something unspoken.

“Sit,” he said to Dad, before looking at me. “Would you like something to drink, Isla?”

“Water’s fine,” I said, barely managing to keep my voice steady.

He handed me a glass himself instead of signaling a waiter.

Dad and Liam spoke business—shares, mergers, legal traps—but I barely heard a word. I was too busy watching the way Liam spoke without wasted movements, how he rarely blinked, how he made my father—a man I thought was powerful—look like a side character in his presence.

“I’m bored,” I whispered when I got the chance, leaning closer to him than necessary.

He glanced down at me. “Then you shouldn’t be here.”

“Then make it interesting.”

A beat of silence.

“I’m not your game, Isla.”

I blinked. “Who says you’re not mine?”

His jaw clenched. Dad returned to the table before he could reply.

On the way home, Dad spoke like he was giving me a sermon.

“You were quiet. Good.”

I nodded.

“But don’t think for a second Liam is someone you should be curious about. He’s dangerous in ways you can’t imagine.”

I wanted to ask what he meant. But I was already crafting scenarios in my mind—each one more forbidden than the last.

“Dad,” I said after a long pause. “If you weren’t friends with him, would you still warn me?”

He looked over at me, puzzled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” I muttered, watching the world blur past the car window. “Just curious.”

Inside, my heart was beating to a dangerous rhythm.

Because I’d seen it—just a flicker—in Liam’s gaze

Curiosity.

And if curiosity killed the cat…

…I was ready to be devoured.

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