“This shirt and I have been through a lot together,” he says solemnly. “Also, it didn’t psychologically torture me during the auction last night.”
I snort. “You were half naked, prancing in front of a sea of other women. Who tortured who again?”
Something shifts in his expression, the humor easing into curiosity. “Why did you leave?”
“Leave?”
“Last night.” His gaze stays on mine. “You vanished during the auction.”
“I didn’t intend to leave. But, it was probably better that I bid anonymously.”
He frowns. “What do you mean?” Then, it dawns on him. “And why do you have my clothes?”
He slips the shirt on, and I sit up and pull my knees to my chin. Where do I even start?
“I was going back to your dressing room,” I begin, trying to explain. “To make the bid anonymously. That’s when I caught my douchebag ex rummaging through your things. And I am so sorry?—”
He stops buttoning. “Did you just say your ex?”
“Yes.”
He grabs his jeans next, yanking them up one leg, then the other, suddenly in a rush. “So now he’s your ex. I thought you didn’t know him.”
“I never said I didn’t know him,” I insist. “I said I wasn’t with him.”
“You’re splitting hairs.”
I may like his ass in jeans, but I certainly don’t like his tone. “Nobody’s splitting hairs. I’m not with him. Not now.”
“Right. That’s why the guy chased you down like a dog chasing prime rib.” He pins my gaze. “And you’re not attached to him at all?” He points. “And don’t lie to me,” he adds. “I’ll know.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “It’s… complicated.”
“It’s a yes or no question, Viviana.”
I guess I’m not Pix anymore. Now, I’m Viviana. Fantastic. He sounds like my grandmother.
Maybe if he checked my socials, or recognized me at all, he’d know I go by Ava.
Instead, I’ve managed to sleep with the one man who has no idea who I am. Not the headlines. Not the name. Just me.
And instead of simplifying things, that somehow makes everything infinitely more complicated.
Because he likes me for me.
And God help me, I like him that much more because of it.
His voice lowers. “Answer the question.”
“I broke it off,” I say, already done with this conversation. “Okay?”
Both hands settle on his hips. “Since when, exactly?”
What is he? A cop? I exhale hard. “Enough with the inquisition. Why does that even matter? We’re not together.”
He shakes his head once, like he’s already filing that answer under bullshit. “I’m sure the two of you had a great time rifling through my things.”
“You’re not hearing me. I did not rifle through your things,” I snap. “He did.”
