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“Let me cut to the chase, Ms. Sun.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not sure why you wrote that article, but here’s the bottom line. I don’t care what you say about me or what fresh hell it brings into my life. Just leave my family and my company out of it.” His ocean-blue eyes lock onto mine, a flicker of something deeper behind them. “Please.”
“I can do that,” I manage to whisper.
He takes a sip of his drink, a tired half smile tugging at his lips. “The thing is, I have a wife. She’s been screwed over, and she deserves to be happy. And I won’t be the one to fuck that up. So, I’ll do whatever you want. An exclusive, a photo shoot. You name it. Just give me three months before you tear me apart.”
I’m stunned silent as he tears into his sandwich, devouring it in just a few bites. And everything he’s just said hits me. He’s willing to sacrifice his own privacy for me?
My chest tightens, and before I know it, tears are welling up. I sniffle to hold it in. Which he notices, pausing mid-bite to hand me a napkin. “Are you all right?”
“Allergies,” I lie, choking back the emotion. This is too much. I need to tell him the truth—at least that the article wasn’t mine.
Just as I’m about to speak, his phone pings. “Shit. I have to go.” He stands, holding out his hand. “Truce?”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Truce.”
The moment my hand touches his, something ignites between us—static, electric, like a rush of champagne bubbling through my veins.
His grip is firm, commanding, and when his thumb brushes over my skin, goose bumps scatter up my arm. “I’d love to speak with you again, Sydney Sun,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost intimate.
Without thinking, I say, “I’d like that, too.”
He walks out, and all I can mutter is, “I’d like that too?” My head falls to my hands. Why the fuck did I say that?
I tear down the hallway,each step a thunderclap of fury.
“Everything okay?” Anabelle’s voice floats my way, all concern and wide eyes.
“Peachy,” I bite out, knuckles white from the death grip on my own rage.
Scoop hustles beside me, his steps quickening to match mine. “Hey, kid. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but barging in on Mr. Richards right now? Not the best idea.”
“Oh, I’m definitely barging in.”
“You’ll get fired.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Felix darts in front of me next, throwing up a hand. “Trust me, girl. Some things can’t be unseen.”
Huh?
I shoulder past him without so much as a second thought, and I don’t knock. I just burst through the door, full force, ready to lay down the law.
And then, like a car slamming into a brick wall, I come to a dead stop.
Roxana Voss is sprawled on the desk, wrapped in a trench coat that barely conceals what I’m certain is nothing but skin underneath.
And Wyld Richards? He’s buried in her chest like a dog sniffing for a treat.
Ugh. Thank God I skipped that croissant at the coffee shop, or I’d be decorating the floor withit.
Hastily, he straightens his tie, and helps her to sit. “Ms. Voss and I were just, uh, discussing your article.”
Horrified, I shake my head. The idea that any article of mine is their kink is just wrong. “Actually, that article is what I came in here to discuss.”
