THE BIRDCAGE

The silk of my emerald gown was a ruined twist around my waist, the expensive fabric bunching roughly against my stomach as Liam’s fingers dug directly into my hip bones. He had me pinned forward over the high back of the velvet hotel chair, his grip so tight it bruised, anchoring me in place as he pulled me back against him and dove into me.

I forced myself up onto my toes to match his rhythm, arching my back just the way he liked it. To Liam, this was exactly what we always did during a big gala—passionate, rough, and entirely on his terms. He thought I wanted this. I made sure he did. Every heavy, breathless gasp I let out against my teeth was perfectly timed, a practiced cue to keep him satisfied and completely blind to what I was planning.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows right in front of me, the blurred neon grid of the city skyline stretched out like a vast, glittering cage.

Liam didn’t say a word. His breathing was a harsh, possessive rasp against the crook of my neck, his chest slamming hard against my bare back with a force that made the heavy chair creak against the plush carpet.

I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead against my white knuckles. I didn’t fight the friction or the ache. This was the final price I had to pay. In the dark behind my eyelids, I counted the steady, mechanical thud of his heart against my spine, treating the raw pressure of his body like a clock ticking down to the exact second I would finally be free.

Mid-stride, he didn’t slow down, but his hand moved from my hip, his fingers tangling tightly into my ginger hair to pull my head back.

“Tell me whose you are,” he commanded, his voice low and heavy against my ear. “Say it, Maya.”

“Yours,” I choked out, as I forced a gasp that sounded like pleasure.

That was all his ego needed. He let go of my hair, his hands slamming back down onto my waist as he drove into me for another grueling two minutes. His pace turned frantic, his chest slamming hard against my spine until his entire body went rigid, letting out a heavy, possessive groan against my neck as he finally finished. He didn’t slow down immediately, his breath rattling in his throat as he rode the final, sharp peak of his release, anchoring me tightly against the velvet chair until the last of the tremors left his muscles.

“That was exactly what I needed,” he rasped, his voice thick and breathless against my skin.

He stayed heavy against me for a few shallow, ragged breaths before he finally pulled out of me. The sudden absence of his heat left a cold chill against my bare skin, making me shiver. Before he stepped away entirely, he leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the crook of my neck—a jarring flash of tenderness that felt more dangerous than his grip.

“Go wash up, beautiful,” he murmured, his voice dropping back into that smooth, affectionate purr that always made my spine freeze. “We need to get back before the speeches start.”

“Okay,” I whispered

My legs shook as I stood up straight. I pulled the emerald silk down over my thighs, my skin stinging where his fingers had clamped into my bones, already knowing the faint purple marks would begin to bloom by morning. Walking with deliberate, even steps so he wouldn’t see the tremor in my knees, I made my way into the massive marble bathroom and shut the heavy door behind me.

The lock clicked into place, and the mask finally broke.

I leaned my hands against the cold edge of the sink, my reflection staring back at me with wide, hollow eyes. My makeup was mostly intact, but my lipstick was completely gone. Downstairs, hundreds of the city’s elite were sipping champagne, completely unaware of what happened up here every time Liam wanted a private moment alone with me. To them, we were the perfect couple.

Just play the part, I told myself, staring hard at my reflection.

Moving quickly but silently, I reached for my purse sitting on the marble counter and slid the zipper open. I reached past the heavy gold compact until my nails brushed against the sharp plastic edge of my blister pack.

I slipped the contraceptive pill out, popped it through the foil, and swallowed it dry before he could even think to knock on the door.

Ten minutes later, after re-lining my lips and pinning my hair back into its flawless, elegant updo, I stepped back out into the suite.

Liam was standing by the glass, his tuxedo jacket already back on, his scotch glass resting loosely in his hand. He looked up as I entered, and for a split second, it hit me all over again just how terrifyingly perfect he was. He had thick, dark hair swept back flawlessly, a clean-shaven jawline that looked like it had been chiseled from marble, and striking, icy blue eyes that could make a room freeze or melt depending on his mood.

He was the textbook definition of a billionaire prince—the man every single woman downstairs envied me for having. They looked at him and saw security, power, and a man hopelessly in love with his fiancée.

He set his drink down on the side table, the crystal clinking softly, and walked toward me with a slow, appreciative smile. The warmth in his eyes looked entirely real. He extended his arm to me, his silver cuff-link catching the light of the chandelier.

“There she is,” he said softly, his gaze scanning my face to ensure every strand of hair was in place. “Shall we go back down? My mother has been looking for you, and the mayor wants to toast to our engagement.”

I forced my lips to curve upward, slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow. “Of course,” I replied, my voice smooth and perfectly steady. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

The elevator ride down was silent, the smooth, mirrored walls reflecting a couple that looked like they belonged on the cover of a luxury magazine. Liam stood tall, his posture relaxed, casually checking his cufflinks. I kept my chin up, my posture perfectly poised, breathing through the subtle ache in my body.

When the doors slid open to the grand ballroom, the wall of sound hit us immediately—the swell of a live orchestra, the clink of crystal, and the low hum of hundreds of wealthy voices.

Liam immediately slipped his hand down to the small of my back, his palm warm and heavy against the emerald silk, guiding me back into the crowd. To anyone looking, we were just a young couple who had snuck away for a brief, romantic moment alone.

“Ah, there they are!” a voice called out. It was one of Liam’s father’s board members, holding a whiskey glass and grinning broadly. “We thought you two had deserted your own celebration.”

“Never,” Liam replied, his voice smooth and ringing with easy charm. He tightened his grip on my waist just enough to anchor me to his side. “The penthouse has a spectacular view of the city lights. I wanted to show Maya before the crowd got too dense.”

The board member nodded appreciatively, completely buying the lie. “Can’t blame you, son. She looks stunning.”

“She always does,” Liam murmured, looking down at me with an expression so tender it could have fooled an angel.

I forced a soft, radiant smile to my lips, nodding in agreement as the man moved away. But as we stepped deeper into the ballroom, navigating the sea of silk dresses and tailored tuxedos, a sudden wave of anxiety washed over me.

Standing near the edge of the dance floor, holding a half-empty glass of champagne, was Ollie.

Unlike Liam’s flawless, tailored perfection, Ollie wore his tuxedo with a slight, casual carelessness—the top button of his shirt already undone, his dark hair a little less behaved. He had been watching the elevator bank, and the moment we emerged, his gaze locked onto us. More specifically, his eyes scanned my face, taking in the freshly painted lips, the immaculate updo, and the slight stiffness in my posture that I was working so hard to conceal.

As we crossed the floor, Ollie stepped directly into our path, cutting us off from the main bar.

“Well, look who finally decided to grace us with their presence,” Ollie said, his voice carrying a dry, mocking edge. He didn’t look at Liam; his icy blue eyes—identical to his brother’s, yet entirely different in warmth—were fixed entirely on me. “I was beginning to think Liam had locked you away in the tower, Maya.”

I felt the muscle in Liam’s jaw twitch, a micro-expression that passed so quickly no one else in the room would have caught it. The hand at my waist didn’t loosen; instead, his fingers pressed firmly against my hip, a silent command for me to stay still and keep my mouth shut.

“Just giving her a moment of quiet before the speeches, Ollie,” Liam said, his tone dripping with a dangerous, polite calm. “I know how overwhelming crowds can be for her. Not everyone thrives on chaos the way you do.”

Ollie took a slow sip of his champagne, his eyes dropping to the hand Liam had clamped around my waist, then back up to my face.

“Is that right, Maya? You needed a moment of quiet?” Ollie asked softly, deliberately bypassing Liam to speak to me directly. “Because the orchestra is playing your favorite piece right now, and I was hoping to steal you for a dance before the mayor takes the microphone.”

The tension between the two brothers instantly turned the air between us brittle. Liam’s grip became so tight it bruised, but his face remained a mask of flawless, upper-class courtesy. He smiled warmly at his brother, though his eyes were completely dead.

“I think Maya’s a bit tired for dancing right now,” Liam answered for me, his voice smooth. “Aren’t you, gorgeous?”

Before I could force the compliant lie out of my throat, Ollie stepped forward, breaking the unspoken rules of Liam’s boundaries. He reached out, his hand gently but firmly wrapping around my fingers, pulling my arm away from Liam’s side.

“One dance wouldn’t hurt,” Ollie looked past me, locking eyes with his brother, his expression completely fearless. “You go mingle, brother. She’s safe with me.”

Liam didn’t make a scene. He couldn’t—not with the mayor ten feet away and a dozen high-profile investors watching. But the air around him turned sub-zero. He slowly let his hand drop from my waist, sliding it casually into his trouser pocket.

“Don’t tire her out,” Liam murmured, a tight, artificial smile on his lips. “We have a long night ahead of us.”

Ollie didn’t answer. He guided me backward, pulling me gently into the swirling crowd on the marble dance floor. The moment we were swept into the sea of couples, his right hand settled firmly against the small of my back, drawing me close enough that our whispers would be drowned out by the violin strings.

As the music swelled, the composure I had maintained since leaving the bathroom finally began to fracture. The weight of our secret plan pressed down on me, suffocating and immediate.

“What happened?” Ollie muttered, his voice low and urgent as he guided me through a seamless turn.

“I couldn’t do it,” I breathed, my eyes darting frantically over Ollie’s shoulder.

My part of the plan had been simple on paper: slip the fast-acting liquid sedative into Liam’s scotch while his back was turned. Once the drug kicked in and he passed out upstairs, I was supposed to grab my things, slip out through the penthouse service door, and meet Ollie. He was supposed to be the one driving me away, waiting in a running car right around the side of the venue near the kitchen exit. Ollie was risking everything to hand me my freedom, intending to return to the gala afterward to play the part of the oblivious brother while I disappeared.

But when I never showed up at the car, Ollie had obviously panicked. Seeing me and Liam stepping out of the elevator together told him everything he needed to know.

Over the edge of Ollie’s jacket, I could see Liam. He hadn’t moved from where we left him. He was standing by the edge of the floor, a fresh glass of champagne in his hand, casually nodding along to whatever a city councilman was saying to him. But he wasn’t looking at him. His icy blue eyes were locked entirely on us, tracking our every rotation through the crowd like a wolf watching prey behind glass.

“He wouldn’t leave my side,” I whispered, my heart racing as Liam’s gaze burned right through me. “I couldn’t risk him catching me. If he found out what we were doing…”

Ollie’s hand tightened against my back, guiding me into another sharp turn to shield my face from his brother’s line of sight. “Damn it,” he cursed softly under his breath, his jaw clenching as he glanced over at Liam. “Okay. Don’t panic. Just keep smiling at me like we’re laughing at a joke. He’s watching your expression.”

He smoothed out his steps, pulling me closer so our whispers wouldn’t carry over the swelling violins. “Look, we gotta get him away from you. The original plan is completely shot, so we’re pivoting. During the toasts after all the boring speeches, make sure you stay right by the edge of the main bar.’’

“What are you going to do?” I breathed, my eyes locked on the dark silhouette of Liam standing like a statue across the ballroom.

“I’m gonna dump a full glass of red wine right down his chest,” Ollie murmured, keeping his face bright and laughing like he’d just told me a hilarious joke. “You know how he is. Perfect Liam isn’t gonna stand around looking like a mess in front of the mayor and all these high-fliers. He’ll have to run upstairs to swap his shirt. The second he turns his back, that’s your cue. Don’t look for me, don’t look back. Just bolt for the kitchen doors. I’ll be waiting.”

The final, dramatic chord of the waltz rang out through the speakers, vibrating against the marble under our shoes.

Ollie didn’t drop his hands immediately, keeping up the illusion for a beat longer as the music faded into polite applause. With an easy, careless grin, he offered me his arm, guiding me smoothly off the floor and straight back toward the perimeter where Liam stood waiting.

As we drew closer, Liam stepped forward to meet us. His movements were fluid and completely under control, a picture of upper-class elegance. He didn’t even look at his brother. His icy blue eyes went straight to my face, scanning my eyes, my mouth, the stiff line of my shoulders, searching for any little crack in my story.

“Hope my brother didn’t bore you to death, darling,” Liam said, his voice smooth as silk as his hand found the small of my back again.

“Not at all,” I murmured, looking up at him with every ounce of love I could possibly fake. “He was just telling me about his latest trip.”

Ollie let out a low, dry chuckle. “Just keeping the bride to be entertained, Liam. She’s all yours now. Looks like the mayor is heading for the microphone anyway.”

With a careless shrug, Ollie stepped past us, disappearing into the crowd toward the bar. Liam’s eyes followed him for a fraction of a second before turning right back to me, his grip tightening just a bit more against my hip.