She fastens it around my neck, and the brush of her fingers against my skin sends electricity straight down my spine. The pearls settle tightly against my throat like a collar.
“I think it looks perfect,” she breathes, and the heat in her eyes makes me forget my own name, forget everything except the way she’s looking at me. “Very Sinclair Hastings.”
“Wouldn’t want to be anything else.” Then she’s kissing me, and the world narrows to just this: her mouth on mine, the soft press of her body, the way my hands find her waist like muscle memory. She fits against me with a certainty that feels inevitable.
Our phones chime in unison. The Viggle notification on our screens. Seventy-two hours, blocked off in both our calendars.
No calls, no meetings, no fencing, no scripts.
No world beyond this.
She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “You know what that means?”
“Our time begins now,” I say, and the smile she gives me is everything I never knew I needed.
“Exactly.” The word hangs between us like a benediction. “Lead the way, my lady.”
Epilogue
Reese
May 31st
Dante Hastings Back in Action! After Controversial Suspension, Hastings Is Ready to Dominate the International Fencing Stage Next Season
June 28th
LOVE IN THE AIR: Reese Sinclair Stuns as She Joins Dante Hastings’ Big Comeback at the Summer Nationals
July 15th
Robyn HoodPremiere Turns Heads! Reese Sinclair to Grace the Red Carpet, as Early Reviews Hail the Film as “Revolutionary”
Dante extendshis arms as I slide the tailored jacket over his shoulders, my hands lingering. We move in tandem, helpingeach other dress in the hotel suite we booked near theRobyn Hoodpremiere.
Our matching suits are going to look so hot when we walk the red carpet together.
It’s been three months since Dante moved his things into my place—boxes of fencing gear and trophies stacked beside designer shoes and scripts. The decision came naturally after his suspension was lifted in May, our schedules suddenly were parallel lines instead of intersecting ones. No more late-night FaceTimes from hotel rooms or weekends spent half-asleep on planes.
We get more time together now. More opportunities to be just us.
Living together means witnessing the small moments—him waking up at 5:00 a.m. for training, the unconscious way he stretches his shoulder when it rains, how he listens to me read through new scripts that have been submitted to Fighter Films for production. I leave notes on the kitchen island for him to read; he leaves apples in my purse. Domesticity that once seemed impossible now feels inevitable.
“Turn,” I command playfully, reaching for his cufflinks. “Let me make you presentable.”
“So demanding,” he murmurs, a smirk playing at his lips as he offers his wrists. My fingers brush against his pulse point as I work with the onyx cufflinks, and his breath catches. “Careful now, or we’ll be late.”
“Now you,” he commands. I spin obediently, and his fingers find the delicate buttons trailing down my corset.
“These buttons are impossible,” he grumbles affectionately, though his touch remains sure and steady.
“Says the man who picked this outfit,” I tease, glancing over my shoulder.
“Because you're exquisite in it.” He slides the matching blazer over my shoulders. “Though you're exquisite in anything.”
“Even in your fencing jacket?”
“God, especially that.” His lips brush my neck. “But tonight, you have a premiere to grace.”
