The CEO’s Masked Secret Wife novel Chapter 54

54 Dancing with the Devil

54 Dancing with the Devil

## Liam’s POV

Consciousness slammed into me like a freight train. My head pounded mercilessly, and my mouth felt like sandpaper. I struggled to open my eyes, disoriented and confused. This wasn’t my bed. This wasn’t even my bedroom.

My office. I was in my office, sprawled on the leather couch. But why? And why was I… I looked down. My shirt was unbuttoned, tie missing, and my belt undone. Panic flared through me.

A soft giggle broke the silence. My head snapped up, sending fresh waves of pain crashing through my skull.

Isabella Clairemont lounged in my desk chair, wearing nothing but a black lace bra and panties. My stomach lurched violently.

“Good morning, lover,” she purred, stretching languorously. “Sleep well?”

I shot to my feet, nearly falling as the room tilted dangerously. “What the hell is this? Why are you here? Why am I here?”

“Don’t you remember?” Isabella stood, sauntering toward me. “You were quite passionate last night. Called me beautiful. Said you’d never seen a woman more desirable.”

“That’s a goddamn lie,” I snarled, stumbling backward to avoid her touch. “What did you do to me?”

She reached for me again. I grabbed her wrists roughly, holding her at bay.

“Don’t touch me,” I growled, shoving her away. “What happened last night? What did you put in my drink?”

Isabella’s seductive smile faltered. “Nothing happened that you didn’t want to happen, Liam. You couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

My stomach heaved at the thought. “I would never touch you willingly.”

The memories were fragmented. Evelyn’s party. A drink on the balcony. Then nothing but darkness and disconnected flashes. Had I really…? No. Impossible.

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54 Dancing with

“Tell me exactly what happened,” I demanded, buttoning my shirt with shaking hands.

“Now.”

“We made love,” Isabella insisted, crossing her arms defiantly. “Right there on your desk. You were insatiable.”

The room spun again. I gripped the edge of the couch to steady myself. “That’s not possible.”

“It happened, Liam.” Isabella’s voice took on a harder edge. “You can’t deny it now. What would your precious Hazel think if she knew?”

Hazel’s name on her lips ignited something primal in me. “You drugged me,” I realized aloud. “That’s why I can’t remember.”

Isabella laughed, the sound grating on my raw nerves. “Prove it. Besides, my father will be thrilled. Once he knows we’ve slept together, he’ll expect you to make an honest woman of me.”

“Make an honest woman of you?” I repeated incredulously. “Are you insane? This changes nothing. Get dressed and get out.”

Her face contorted with rage. “You can’t dismiss me like one of your whores! My father will destroy you if you don’t show me proper respect!”

“Your father?” I laughed bitterly, rage clearing my head slightly. “Julian can’t even save his own company, let alone destroy mine.”

Isabella grabbed her dress from the floor, her movements jerky with anger. “I’ll tell everyone what happened between us. That you seduced me, then cast me aside.”

“And I’ll remind everyone about the video of you and three members of the Princeton lacrosse team that went viral your senior year,” I shot back coldly. “The one your father paid a small fortune to suppress.”

Her face drained of color. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” I challenged, my voice deadly quiet. “Now put your clothes on.”

Her hands trembled as she pulled on her dress. “This isn’t over, Liam.”

I grabbed her purse and jacket, then her arm, marching her toward the private elevator. “It is over. It never even began.”

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“Let go of me!” she shrieked, struggling against my grip. “You can’t treat me like this!”

I punched the lobby button and practically shoved her into the elevator. “Watch me.”

The doors closed on her screaming face. I leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted and nauseated. What the hell had happened last night? Had she actually drugged me?

Had we…?

No. I refused to believe it. But the gaps in my memory were terrifying.

I staggered back to my desk and collapsed into my chair, head in my hands. Then I grabbed my phone and dialed.

“Damian.” My voice sounded foreign to my own ears. “I need you.”

“Liam? Where are you? We’ve been looking everywhere since you disappeared from the party.”

“My office,” I replied tersely. “Man, I danced with the devil in hell’s cauldron tonight.”

“What? What happened?” Alarm colored Damian’s voice.

“I can’t explain over the phone. Get here now. And call Adrian Cole. I need his security team. I think Isabella drugged me last night.”

“Christ,” Damian swore. “I’m on my way. Don’t touch anything, and don’t talk to anyone

else.”

I ended the call and leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes against the harsh office lights. Images of Hazel and Leo flashed through my mind. Would I lose them forever if Isabella spread her poisonous lies?

The thought of Hazel believing I’d slept with Isabella made me physically ill. I rushed to the private bathroom and vomited violently, my body shaking with the force of it.

After rinsing my mouth, I stared at my reflection. Bloodshot eyes. Pallid skin. A haunted expression. I barely recognized myself.

My phone buzzed with an incoming text from Damian: “ETA 5 minutes. Bringing

Adrian.”

I splashed cold water on my face, trying to piece together what had happened. The party. The drink. Isabella watching me collapse. Then waking up here, half-undressed.

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54 Dancing with the Devil

The thought of her touching me while I was unconscious made my skin crawl. I needed a shower, desperately, but Damian had said not to touch anything. Evidence, I realized. We might need evidence.

A knock at my office door made me jump. “Liam, it’s us.”

Relief flooded through me as Damian entered, followed by Adrian Cole, our head of corporate security. Adrian’s face was grim as he took in my disheveled appearance.

“Tell me everything,” Damian demanded, his normally jovial face deadly serious.

I recounted what I could remember and what Isabella had claimed. With each word, Damian’s expression darkened further.

“We need to check the security cameras,” Adrian said immediately. “If you were both brought here while incapacitated, it’ll show up.” He paused. “And we should get you a hospital for a toxicology screen.”

“No hospitals,” I refused flatly. “No paper trail for the press to follow. Can you get a private doctor here?”

Adrian nodded. “Dr. Patterson is discreet. I’ll call him.”

“What about your office?” Damian asked, glancing around. “If… anything happened here, there might be evidence.”

The implication made me nauseous again. “Check everything,” I instructed Adrian. “I want to know exactly what happened last night.”

“I’ll need samples from you too,” Adrian said delicately. “Hair, blood, fingernail

scrapings.”

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