I should believe him.
But I’m not stupid.
I pour water into a glass. My hands are steady now; my mind isn’t. Blake sits on the edge of the couch, watching me like he’s already cutting this into an episode.
I take a sip and say, too casually, “If Harper ever turns on me…”
Blake’s eyes sharpen. “She won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
His smile is thin. “I know people.”
“So do I,” I say.
He crosses the room slowly, stopping close enough that I can smell his soap.
“You’ll win,” he says quietly. “You always do.”
I swallow.
Because I’m not sure that’s true anymore.
And I hate that the first time I feel truly out of control…
…it’s because Iris might be like me on purpose. Not a victim. Not a pawn. A reflection.
I set the glass down.
“I’ll call her,” I say, mostly to myself. “Set another meeting.”
Blake nods. “Good.”
“And I won’t tell anyone,” I add. “Not Harper. Not Lila. Not my PR team.”
His mouth tilts. “Good.”
I look up at him. “You’re too agreeable.”
He smiles. “I’m adaptable.”
I don’t like the way my body reacts to how calm he is.
Outside, life keeps moving like nothing matters.
Inside, I hold my perfect face and feel something unfamiliar in my chest.
Not guilt.
Not love.
Not remorse.
Just the ugly realization that my games have finally attracted someone who plays without rules.
And I don’t know which of us will blink first.
Chapter Twenty-One
