ALESSANDRA

I’m not sure “celeb” is the right term

VIVIAN

You know what I mean

ISABELLA

He might need an extra push Sloane: I’ll take care of it

My office phone rang, interrupting me from the chat. “Sloane, your next appointment is here,” Jillian said.

“Bring her in, please.”

Two minutes later, Ayana entered my office, a striking vision draped in marigold silk and shoulder-grazing earrings.

“Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.” She folded herself gracefully into the chair opposite mine. Her skin glowed beneath the lights, and she had cheekbones that could slice through diamonds. No wonder she’d taken the modeling world by storm over the past year.

“You’re my client. I’m happy to help in any way I can,” I said. Ayana was my last new client for a while. My roster was technically closed, but Alessandra’s mother was Ayana’s modeling mentor. I’d met with her earlier this year as a favor, and I liked her so much I’d signed her that day.

“Good.” She hesitated, her lovely face shadowed with nerves. “Because I might be in trouble.”

For the next forty-five minutes, I listened as Ayana laid out her situation. I kept my expression neutral, but every cell in my body blanched when she reached the marriage part.

“I don’t know what to do,” she concluded. She stared at her lap, her anxiety palpable. “I owe him so much, but…”

“But nothing. It’s your life,” I said firmly. “Listen, as your publicist, I’ll tell you this would be great publicity. There’s nothing the public loves more than a celebrity wedding. But as a woman, as a human, I’ll tell you to follow your gut. Is gratitude worth five years of your life?”

When Ayana left, the question lingered.

I couldn’t answer it for her, and my job was to spin her decision into media gold, no matter what it was. I just hoped she made a choice she wouldn’t regret later.

I opened my inbox, but I didn’t get a chance to read anything before Xavier appeared at the door.

“Was that Ayana I saw coming out?” He strolled in, his hair tousled by the wind and his sweater molding to his form in a way that was positively sinful. “I didn’t realize she was still in town.”

A sizzle of awareness ran beneath my skin, chased by something darker that I ignored. It must be my lunch. Tuna salad was hit-or-miss on a good day. “Do you know her?”

“Not personally, but she’s a friend of a friend, and I’ve seen her around a few times,” Xavier said with a shrug. “Luca mentioned she was supposed to be shooting a Delamonte campaign in Europe this week, but I guess not.”

“Ah.”

His eyebrows arched. “What happened? Did the meeting not go well?”

“It went fine.” I stared at my screen, willing myself to get over whatever was roiling in my stomach. “She’s great. Obviously. Since she’s the first thing you mentioned when you walked in.”

Silence greeted my curt response.

When I looked up again, Xavier wasn’t staring at me in shock like I’d expected. The bastard was laughing.

Great, rolling waves of silent laughter shook his body and sent a rush of heat to my cheeks.

“Luna.” Mirth gleamed in his eyes. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” I snapped. “It was merely an observation.”

I returned to my screen and glared at the lines of text until they blurred. Prickles bloomed behind my nose and eyes.

It was stupid and irrational because I didn’t really think Xavier was interested in Ayana, but I couldn’t fix the valve leaking inside me. The one that held back a flood of insecurity, which I thought I’d turned off until little moments like this dripped self-doubt into my stomach.

Too cold. Too dispassionate. Too unlovable.

Xavier was the opposite of me—full of warmth, easy to like, and a charmer at his core. He’d been honest and committed since we’d started dating, but a part of me was waiting for him to run.

One day, he’d wake up and realize I wasn’t the person he wanted me to be, and he’d leave.

“Sloane.” He didn’t sound amused anymore. Soft footsteps preceded the clean scent of his cologne; firm hands turned me around. “Look at me.”

I fixated stubbornly on his neck. One of his tattoos peeked from beneath his sweater, and it was the only thing that kept me from falling apart.

What the hell happened? One second, I was working and smiling so much I scared Jillian. The next, I was on the verge of a breakdown over a man.

Past me was disgusted with myself, but past me didn’t know what current me knew: this trial period I’d proposed had backfired spectacularly.

I’d thought we could have fun for two months and say we tried. I’d thought I could walk away at the end of this and be okay.

But I couldn’t. Not when jealousy gnawed through my insides at the mere thought of Xavier with someone else.

“Look at me.” Fingers grasped my chin and notched it up. Xavier’s eyes bored into mine, stripping me bare. “You have nothing to be jealous of. I mentioned Ayana because I was just talking to Luca and that was at the top of my mind. It doesn’t have anything to do with how I feel toward her because I don’t feel anything.”

“She’s a supermodel. Everyone feels something toward her.”

“I don’t,” he said. “I don’t care how beautiful or famous someone is, Luna. None of them hold a candle to you.”

If he were anyone else, I would’ve dismissed his reassurance as empty words. But this was Xavier, and because it was Xavier, his reply had the effect of a thousand fluttering wings. Their velvety tips brushed my heart, sealing the leak and soaking up the insecurities.

I managed a smile over the steel drum of my heart. “You always know what to say.”

“It’s easy when it’s the truth. Now…” He leaned down and gave me a soft, lingering kiss. He tasted like coffee and warmth. “That’s a proper hello.”

I laughed, my skin tingling from either our kiss, the end of our previous conversation, or both. I was a bit embarrassed by my uncharacteristic outburst of jealousy, but I was too pleased to see him to care.

“Do we have a meeting today?” I asked, trying to shift back into work mode. “I thought we were going to talk on the phone.”

Xavier had said he had a plan for getting Vuk to sign on as his business partner without a location first, and he wanted to run it by me.

“We don’t, and we were. But I’m not here for business. I’m here to see you.” Xavier nodded at the coffee cup he’d set on my desk. “Black, no sugar.”