Second First Love

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The private jet shrieked above, tearing a cruel line through the flawless blue sky, and my stomach churned itself into a hard, unpleasant knot.

I waited at the private landing strip's far edge, arms crossed, sunglasses protecting my eyes from the late afternoon sun-and more to the point, from him.

I hadn't laid eyes on Liam Hart in six years.

Six years since he'd torn through my life like a hurricane, leaving only devastation and silence in his path.

Six years since I'd reconstructed myself from the ground up, brick by painful brick, right here on Moonfire Island-*my* island.

And now he thought he could just fly back into my life as if nothing had happened?

I lifted my chin higher, spine straight.

No. Not today. Not ever.

The plane taxied to a stop, the metal glinting like a blade. A few minutes ticked by, then the door opened and a staircase dropped down. My heart thudded dully against my ribs as I watched him step out.

Liam Hart.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Hair a little longer than I remembered, messier. His jaw was stubbled, his golden tan a little faded, as if the sun had tried and failed to scorch the darkness out of him.

He wore faded jeans, a plain black T-shirt that clung tightly to muscles leaner, more finely honed than the ones I remembered. A duffel bag was slung over one shoulder.

He looked ruined. Wrecked.

Good.

I wanted him to stay that way.

Liam stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes-those dangerous, storm-grey eyes-finding mine across the stretch of asphalt.

There was silence. A long, slow inhalation where the world seemed to hold its breath, waiting.

I didn't move. Didn't blink.

Didn't let him see even a flicker of emotion.

"You have five minutes," I said curtly, my voice echoing into the stillness. "Then you're getting back on that plane."

He dropped his bag to the floor with a thud. His mouth twisted into an almost-smile. Bitter. Amused. Tired.

"Still the same Aria Vale," he said. His voice was rougher than I remembered, a little rougher around the edges. "Cold as hell."

"And you're still the same Liam Hart," I shot back, stepping in close enough to notice the fine lines etched at the corners of his mouth. "Ruining everything you touch."

His gaze flickered, just for a second. A slight crack in that arrogant exterior.

Good.

I turned on my heel, my white sundress flying around my legs in the sea air. My heels clicked neatly on the pavement as I walked away.

If he had something to say, he could follow me.

If he was intelligent, he'd get back on that idiot plane and disappear.

I heard his footsteps behind me a moment later.

Of course.

Because Liam Hart never knew when to give up.

***

The island's main house loomed in front of us, sleek and modern amidst the jungle. A huge glass-and-stone monstrosity that had taken everything I had to build-and had been worth every single penny.

Moonfire wasn't just my home.

It was my empire.

My salvation.

And I would be damned if I let *him* defile it.

Inside, the air conditioning chilled my skin. I led him into the lounge without looking back, falling into one of the white leather armchairs.

Liam stayed standing, hands shoved in his jeans pockets. He looked absurdly out of place-too rough, too worn, too real among the gleaming marble floors and shining steel fittings.

I hated how good he looked.

Hated how my body reacted instinctively, traitorously, to being in close proximity to him again.

Focus, Aria.

"I'll make this easy," I said, crossing one leg over the other and tapping my nails lazily against the armrest. "State your business. Briefly."

He rubbed a hand through his hair, exhaling a sharp breath.

"I need work."

I blinked once, slowly.

Of all the possibilities of what he might say, that one hadn't even been on the list.