Page 93 of His Reckoning

I swing my legs off the couch and stand, then march down the hallway.

I stop outside his door and stare at it.

My hand lifts slightly, and then I catch myself.

“Oh, no,” I say aloud. “You do not get the satisfaction.”

I turn around and storm back toward the living room.

Sawyer Maccini is the most arrogant man I’ve ever met, and there’s no way I’m letting him know that he’s right.

Even if— I stop mid-step and groan. Unfortunately, another thought has snuck into my brain.

What if he is right?

I point at the hallway like he can somehow hear me.

“Don’t get used to that idea.”

I grab my laptop and sit back down. I refuse—absolutely refuse—to let a smug billionaire think he’s the reason I can write again.

Even if the evidence is starting to get a little suspicious.

* * *

I wake up the next morning with a plan.

A very simple plan.

A very reasonable plan.

I am going to write an entire chapter today without thinking about Sawyer Maccini.

Not once.

Not even a little.

Which should be easy, considering I am an adult woman with a functioning brain and not someone whose creative process depends on the smug billionaire currently sleeping somewhere down the hallway.

I open my laptop and stare at the blinking cursor. The cursor stares back judgmentally.

“That’s fine,” I tell it. “We’re warming up.”

I type a sentence.

I walk into the room and—delete.

Nope.

I try again.

The tension between us has been building for weeks—delete.

Absolutely not.

I lean back against the couch and glare at the screen.

This is ridiculous.