Only we weren’t.
Not really.
Not anymore.
Not since she started flinching when I looked at her too long. Not since she stopped texting back. Not since she buried what happened between us like it was just another tabloid headline to outlast.
But it hadn’t faded for me.
Not even close.
So when she slipped away to speak with a reporter near the dessert table, I followed. She turned and caught me watching, expression unreadable, body poised like she was ready to bolt.
No.
Not tonight.
Not again.
I stepped in, wrapped my fingers around her wrist, and without thinking—without asking—I pulled her with me.
Down the side hallway.
Past the wait staff.
Into the first door that wasn’t locked.
The closet was barely big enough for two people, but I didn’t care.
The second the door clicked shut, I pressed her back against it.
Her chest rose and fell fast. She didn’t say anything.
So I did.
“You’ve been avoiding me, Daph.” My voice came out low, rougher than I meant. “You gonna keep doing that all night?”
She narrowed her eyes, but I saw the flash of something beneath it—uncertainty, maybe even guilt. “You’re the one who caught feelings in a contract,” she shot back.
Her tone was all defense. All armor.
But I’d played too many games tonight to let her get away with hiding again.
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. Just the ache of everything I hadn’t said.
“What I feel for you,” I said, stepping closer, “has nothing to do with paperwork.”
She blinked, and for a second, she looked like she might believe me.
Then she scoffed. “This isn’t real, Kieren. You think just because we had a few good moments, you get to rewrite the rules?”
“No,” I said. “But I’m not the one pretending they didn’t mean anything.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Then what are you doing?” I demanded. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like you’re scared. So you’re running.”
Her jaw tightened. “I’m not scared of you.”
