Yes,I thought savagely, even as images flashed through my mind: my mother’s wheelchair ramp, the unpaid bills on their counter.
I swallowed the word and glared at Axel instead.
“Good.” She pointed a finger at us. “Stay. On. Script.”
Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the restaurant in electric silence.
Per Rebecca’s script, I waited for Axel to open my door. When he extended his hand with practiced gallantry, I stared at his fingers like they might infect me.
“Come on, Sunshine.”
The transformation in his voice stopped my heart. Gone was the cutting edge, replaced by something warm that slid over my skin like expensive wine. His entire demeanor had shifted. Blue eyes softened from glacial to summer skies, posture curving toward me instead of away.
When our hands connected, a shiver started in my palm and rippled inward, setting off tiny earthquakes in my chest. As he helped me from the car, his other hand settled on my lower back, fingers splaying wide, the touch burning through the thin fabric in the worst and best way.
He leaned down, breath warm against my ear. “Wipe that deer-in-headlights look off your face, Sunshine. Remember, you’re seasoned at tricking people into thinking your life is perfect.”
So much for the loving-boyfriend transformation. Seriously. Jekyll and Hyde had nothing on Axel Pierce.
His barb landed precisely, but when he pulled away, his expression was adoring for any watching eyes.
I motioned for him to bend down, letting my smile stay bright and affectionate. “Pretending my life is perfect and pretending I can stand you are entirely different skill sets,” I murmured, letting my lips brush his ear. “One requires a filter. The other requires a frontal lobotomy.”
His responding wink nearly stopped my heart. Not because it was charming—which, maddeningly, it was—but because of how effortlessly he slipped between personas. Axel Pierce, asswad by day, Oscar-worthy actor by night.
Minutes later, we were seated, intimate lighting casting everyone golden. I immediately spotted our targets: three influencers at the nearest tables, phones out, attention seemingly fixed elsewhere but clearly locked on us.
I recognized Paul Hargon instantly. Gossip turned into a multimillion-dollar empire.
“I’m glad we’re doing this,” Axel cooed, right on script.
Suddenly, anxiety crashed over me.What if I screw this up? Forget my lines?
Axel’s fingers brushed my hand, eyes locking on mine with an unspoken message:Breathe. We’ve got this.
The genuine concern caught me off guard. Strange how quickly enemies became conspirators when survival was at stake.
“You look beautiful,” he continued flawlessly. “You’ve always looked stunning in red.”
His gaze tracked down my neckline before returning to my eyes. Hopefully noticed by our audience. But beneath the performance, I caught genuine appreciation that sent unwelcome heat pooling low in my abdomen.
Traitorous body. We were supposed to be a united front against him.
Okay. Time for the main event.
“Axel,” I began, projecting just enough to be overheard. “I’m sorry about what I did.”
His expression softened unexpectedly, and for an eerie moment, we seemed to slip back in time before Knox’s arrest, before everything shattered.
Axel nodded encouragingly, one eyebrow lifting slightly.You’re doing fine. Keep going.
The unexpected tenderness in his gaze made my throat tight, but I pushed through the feeling, desperate to maintain my emotional distance.
“When we broke up that night,” I continued, “I was so hurt, I acted in a way I normally never would. I should never have taken that picture of you with that woman. And I never should’ve posted it online.” I drew a steadying breath, aware of Paul angling his phone toward us. “I didn’t mean to share it publicly. I thought it was my private story. But that doesn’t excuse taking the photo. I’m really sorry.”
At least that part was true. Maybe my express ticket to hell would be downgraded to economy.
“I was flirting with her to make you jealous,” Axel delivered with such sincerity, I almost believed him. “I was upset you broke up with me. Being immature and a complete jackass. I’m sorry.” He paused. “And for the record, I didn’t know who she was or that she was married. I’d have picked a more believable target.”
