Page 164 of The Encore’s Crown

The heat comes back instantly. My fingers tighten around the phone. A silence stretches between us, minds full of with everything neither of us should start when Mama is downstairs and fully capable of appearing without warning.

His voice drops. “Are you alone?”

I look toward the door. “Technically. Mama is downstairs waiting to assign me some chore the second she remembers I exist.”

“What kind of chore?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does if I’m deciding how much time I have.”

I bite my lip. Neither of us says anything. The possibility hangs there anyway, obvious and heated. I adjust my position on the vanity.

“You need another hobby.”

“I need another penthouse. For a month. No one knocking. No label emergencies or lawyers.”

I smile despite myself. “A whole month?”

“I’d still only get through half of the ideas I have for us.”

A laugh slips out of me.

“Half?”

“Maybe a third. You survived the first trial.” The teasing fades a little when he asks, “How did the lawyer go?”

I look down at my sock and start picking at a piece of fuzz near my ankle.

“I signed.”

He breathes out, enough that I hear the stress leave him.

Relief twists with something else in my chest. “You’re glad.”

“I’m relieved it’s over.”

“But?”

A pause.

“But I feel like I ruined the chance for you to do something about him.”

“You didn’t.”

“If I hadn’t hit him—”

“I still would’ve dropped it.”

He goes quiet. I pull one leg up onto the vanity and stare at the loose thread in my sock.

“Even if we weren’t…” I stop.

“What we are?”

My stomach flips at the way he says it.

“Even if we weren’t us, I still would’ve signed. Social media isn’t kind to hot girls who dare imply they don’t want sex from every guy in every possible scenario. It ruins the fantasy,” I take a deep breath, then I continue. “The numbers drop if men can’t masturbate to you without forgetting you’re an actual person who might say no.”