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Boobs too big, hips too wide, hair and makeup too audacious? Whore. Pig. Thick girl.

Too much in every direction.

Then I see Kane at the bottom, and all of that changes.

He’s standing with two men in dark, neat suits. They’re talking, but as soon as he turns to lock eyes with me, the conversation dies on the spot.

He doesn’t blink.

Neither do I.

My mouth parts.

So does his.

Just slightly. Barely enough to count.

Except this is Kane Makov. That tiny little gap between his lips says everything.

One of the men beside him whispers to him, but Kane shows no signs of having heard a word the man said.

His green eyes climb up my body.

Shoes.

Dress.

Waist.

Bare shoulders.

Face.

The room swirls around us, but we’re both perfectly still.

I start to go down one more step—but then, with my foot dangling in midair, I see his fist tighten at his side.

White knuckles, gleaming through the ink.

Tension.

Turmoil.

Oh.

I resume walking, still slow, but never looking away from him. When I finally reach the final step, the heels and the stair put us at eye level for once.

It’s a nice change of pace.

Kane lifts his hand toward me, then stops and retracts it. “Lilah…”

Only my name. Roughened beyond recognition.

“I guess this will work?” I tease self-consciously.

His gaze combs over me once more, from face to toes and back again. “You were always in there, weren’t you?” He offers his arm. “Now, everyone else gets to see what I do.”

Well, if that isn’t the most outrageous thing I’ve ever heard…