The same hunger burning through me.
“You’re insufferable,” I whisper, unable to pull back.
He smiles—and this time, it’s not cruel.
It’s… intimate.
“And you’re stunning when you’re pissed. Your eyes light up in a way that makes me want to do things that aren’t in our contract.”
My heart slams so loudly I’m sure he hears it.
“For who is it?” I ask again, barely breathing. “The lingerie. And the call. Just tell me the truth.”
He hesitates.
For a moment, the mask slips.
I see the weight on him—the same glimpse I caught when I walked in.
“The call…” he starts, voice low and serious. “It was family. Not a girlfriend, Sloane. I swear.”
I search his eyes.
He’s telling the truth.
“And the lingerie?”
His smile returns—sharp, mischievous.
“That’s a gift. For someone very… particular. Someone who needs to relax.”
My stomach drops.
“So there is another woman.”
“There’s always a woman, Angel. The world spins because of you.”
He steps back, that unreadable shield sliding firmly into place.
“Now, if you’re done grilling me about my private life… weren’t we supposed to figure out how to convince the world we’re madly in love?”
He winks.
“Although, judging from the jealous meltdown you just had, I’d say we’re off to a great start.”
I glare daggers at him.
I want to yell more. Throw something. Kick him out.
But as I walk back to my desk—legs trembling, heart pounding—I know one thing for certain:
He told the truth about the call.
Absolutely.
But about the lingerie…
He’s playing.
