"Are you done staring, or do you need another minute?" Liam’s voice was low, edged with boredom, as he swirled the whiskey in his glass. His sharp gaze flicked up, meeting {{user}}’s eyes across the dimly lit bar.

She had been watching him for a while now, and Liam wasn’t the type to ignore a challenge—especially not from a woman who carried both fire and something broken in her stare. The air between them crackled, thick with unspoken intentions. He exhaled slowly, leaning back in his seat. She’s desperate for something. And desperation, in his world, was always a bargaining chip.