18. Silent Treatment.

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I placed my toothbrush down, struck by Liam's thoroughness. He had considered every detail, providing not just my own toothbrush but also a ton of girly essentials, from tampons to makeup remover—items I hadn't even known existed or used.

Glancing down at my attire, I was simply wearing one of his t-shirts, braless, paired with a very lacy underwear.

Liam had even stocked up on skimpy lingerie to last me for an entire year, adding to my mounting sexual frustration rather than eliciting amusement or gratitude.

Yes, I was sexually frustrated, but he didn't have to make it so obvious!

I knew he hadn't bothered with bras or clothes to cover my body, leaving my nipples fully exposed in deliberate provocation. It was all part of his calculated plan.

Glaring at my reflection in the mirror, I became aware of how out of touch I was with reality. The unexpected snow outside was a clearly a dead giveaway to my oversight.

Why didn't I watch the news?

Stepping out of the bathroom I glared at him as he leisurely laid in the bed. His eyes casted down towards his phone. I couldn't help but feel aroused just looking at him even though I was very angry at him and giving him the silent treatment.

Liam's behavior was making it incredibly difficult for me to hold onto my anger. He had forcefully forced me to eat dinner, despite my silent glares, and his casual flaunting of his tongue worthy six-pack as he pranced around shirtless even though the place was slightly chilly only added to my irritation.

Liam's behavior was testing the limits of my patience.

I couldn't believe Liam had the audacity to tell me he owned me and could ruin my career if he wanted to. It was true, but that didn't give him the right to control me.

Despite his arrogance, I couldn't deny he was a handsome bastard. His chiseled features and confident demeanor were infuriatingly attractive, even as I struggled to maintain my anger towards him.

As I glanced towards the sofa, considering sleeping there for the night to distance myself from him.

Liam's voice interrupted my thoughts. Without even bothering to look at me, he warned, "Don't even think about it." His words were like a cold slap in the face, a stark reminder of his power over me, both physically and mentally.

The way he wielded his authority so effortlessly left me feeling trapped and conflicted.

I couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and begrudging admiration for him even though his behavior was maddening, and I resented his attempts to control me.

Glaring at Liam, I made my way to the bed, determined to create some semblance of space between us. I grabbed some pillows and began arranging them in the middle of the bed, creating a makeshift partition to separate our sides.

But before I could finish, Liam intervened, taking the pillows one by one and tossing them to the ground with a nonchalant flick of his hand.

My frustration grew as I watched him dismantle my attempt at creating a boundary between us. Each pillow that hit the ground felt like a physical representation of his disregard for my feelings and his determination to assert his dominance.

"You bast-" As I nearly let out a piece of my mind to Liam, frustration boiling inside me, I clenched my teeth in anger. Determined to distance myself from him, I grabbed a pillow.

As I stormed towards the sofa with a pillow in hand, I let out my frustration, "I can't believe you," I muttered under my breath, the words nearly slipping out in a torrent of anger.

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