Victoria Venture Pt. 2

Liam grabs a drink from a waiter walking by, not really knowing why. As he grabs hold of the glass, a horrifying realization smacks him across the face. Wait, why did I run away? I didn’t even lock the door!

He freezes, wide-eyed, and then spins on his heel, bolting back through the winding corridors. Each step feels amplified in his head, adrenaline heightening the heavy bass thumping through the walls. Please still be in there, please still be in there, he chants to himself, desperation driving him faster.

But as he rounds the final corner, his worst fears materialize: Victoria is standing outside the door, arms crossed and eyes narrowed to furious slits. Her expression is the very definition of pissed off.

“You,” she hisses, crossing her arms even tighter. “Would you mind explaining what the hell that was about?”

“I—uh, you—see, Victoria, I just, um…” His mouth goes dry as his mind scrambles for any excuse, but nothing solid forms. Think, Liam, think! She’s tapping her foot now, impatience practically radiating from her, and he knows he’s seconds away from losing any chance of keeping her occupied.

He tries a hasty grin, doing his best to look apologetic but casual. “Look, it was all part of this… this big surprise Marcus wanted to set up for you! Just, you know, it’s supposed to be a mystery, and the best ones are confusing, right?”

Victoria doesn’t budge, her stare like a laser beam. “A mystery, huh?” She practically spits the words, her patience wearing thin.

Desperation surges, and in a hopeless attempt to turn this around, he holds his hands up in what he hopes is a disarming gesture. But his coordination is a second behind his thoughts, and before he realizes what he’s done, his arm brushes his half-empty glass straight into her chest, splashing the remains of his drink across her outfit.

“Oh—oh, my god, I—Victoria, I am so, so sorry!” he stammers, horrified.

Her eyes go wide, fury radiating off her. “You idiot!” she shrieks, brushing furiously at the stain spreading across the front of her dress. “I can’t believe—ugh!”

Panicking, Liam instinctively steps closer, mumbling apologies and reaching out as if to help. But as she furiously brushes at her dress, his hand bumps against hers. They both freeze, and for a second, the air shifts. Victoria glares up at him, her eyes meeting his with a smoldering fire. It’s the closest they’ve been all night—close enough that he can feel her breath, the scent of her perfume mingling with the haze of the party.

Neither of them moves, caught in the tension of the moment. And before he realizes it, he finds himself leaning in, the heat and closeness drawing him forward, caught in the hypnotic pull of her gaze. Her lips part, just slightly, and for a split second, the world narrows down to nothing but her.

But then she snaps her head back, blinking as if shaking off a spell. “What are you doing?” she hisses, her eyes wide with a mix of confusion and anger.

Liam stumbles, the moment shattered, his heart hammering in his chest. “I—I was just—um…”

Victoria doesn’t wait for him to finish, shoving past him. She starts down the hallway, heels clicking furiously as she makes her way toward the club.

“No, no, wait, Victoria!” he calls, darting after her, his hand just barely brushing her shoulder. He scrambles for words, anything to keep her from storming back and finding Marcus.

Liam’s steps are quick and clumsy, his mind barely keeping up with the mess of impulse and adrenaline surging through him. He reaches out, his fingers brushing Victoria’s arm, but his foot catches on something in the dim, kaleidoscopic lighting, sending him tumbling forward. In one sweeping motion, he grabs onto her, and they both go down in a tangled heap, him awkwardly sprawled, her indignantly seething.

“Are you serious right now?” she snaps, shoving his shoulder as they both scramble to their feet. She flicks a lock of hair back, glaring at him with an exasperation that could probably burn holes in concrete. “First you drag me into that ridiculous closet, spill your drink on me, and now you’re practically tackling me?”

Liam winces, fumbling for words but coming up empty. She’s standing close enough that he can feel her fury radiating off her, her eyes fierce and locked onto his in a way that sends his thoughts spiraling.

“Hello? Do you have anything to say for yourself?” She folds her arms, one eyebrow arching sharply, her patience a thin thread. But she's stood so close that Liam can't think straight whatsoever.

“Uh—well…” His words are jumbled, his face flushing. Finally, with one last wild surge of reckless energy, he thinks, screw it, and leans in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to her lips.

The slap hits him before he even pulls back, the sting immediate and sharp across his cheek. She pulls away with a look of shock and pure outrage, eyes narrowed into razor slits.

“Are you insane?” she practically yells, her voice sharp enough to cut through the party noise. Without another word, she turns on her heel, her shoulders stiff with indignation, and storms back toward the club.

“Victoria, wait—” He stumbles after her, rubbing his burning cheek, his pulse thrumming in his ears as he chases her back out into the main floor of the party. The music slams back into his senses, a heavy bass that beats in time with his pounding heart, and he has to squint against the **** of lights and colors spinning in every direction. Every step forward feels like a struggle through a sensory swamp.

Victoria doesn’t turn, her strides fast and furious as she pushes through the crowd, a woman on a mission. Liam weaves after her, trying to keep up, his mind torn between guilt, frustration, and the faint, lingering thrill of what just happened. He watches her hair swinging as she makes a beeline for the VIP booth—and his heart sinks.