Not arrogant—
More like admitting an uncomfortable truth.
My throat tightens without permission.
“We can’t rely on your assumptions. You need to meet them before—”
“Sloane,” he interrupts. “I don’t want to go out with anyone.”
Silence.
If I look at him, he wins.
If I look at him, I crack.
If I look at him, I remember his mouth between my—
So I don’t look at him.
“This isn’t optional, Becker. It’s part of the program.”
He drags a hand through his hair, frustrated.
“And if I don’t want to?”
“Then you withdraw from the Valentine reality show, lose the sponsor, and also lose your chance at a stable return to the team. Is that what you want?”
This time I’m the one hitting where it hurts.
I hate it.
But I know how to do my job.
Cohen goes quiet.
He stares at me.
And there’s something burning in his eyes—not anger, not desire.
Something rawer.
Disappointment.
But he nods.
Just once.
Like he’s accepting a defeat.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “I’ll meet them.”
He doesn’t smile.
The light in his face is gone.
And for some reason…
I don’t like that at all.
