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I turn and look up to find Mason standing behind me. He’s wearing a grey crewneck jumper that hugs his body beautifully, paired with dark-wash jeans and trainers. There’s a black beaded necklace with silver accents around his tanned, muscular neck. He puts his left hand on the back of the chair next to me, pulls it out, and sits down. I immediately detect his cologne, faint but present. I know it by heart—a woodsy, smoky fragrance that is so sensual when combined with the natural scent of his skin.

He turns to me, a smile lighting up his face, his brown eyes locked on mine. I feel my breath catch in my throat, and damn it, my resolution is going up in flames. Did I see him yesterday and experience some butterflies? Yes. Did I make it a point to only say “hello” and dash off, proclaiming to be busy, and try to hide from him for most of the day?

Also yes.

But as he stares at me, so close that our chairs are almost touching, there’s no avoiding him.

“Ask me why you don’t want Caleb to do your fashion feature,” he says, his eyes dancing at me.

I think I’m drowning in espresso right now. His eyes are a rich, dark brown, fringed by long black eyelashes. And I can’t tear my gaze away from them.

“Come on, Catherine, ask me,” Mason prompts again.

“Why don’t I want Caleb to do the feature?” I manage to ask.

“Because I’m going to do it instead.”

Chapter Two

I stare at Mason, stunned. A mischievous smile begins to form at the corners of his sensual mouth, and a disturbing thought immediately hits me.

I SHOULD NOT THINK HIS MOUTH IS SENSUAL.

Is that stalker territory? That I think he has a sensual mouth?

I wrestle between normal, because I see him all the time—I mean, more than I see my mum and dad. And a pretty mouth stands out. Right?

Or is it from watching too many TikTok and Connectivity videos compiled about the man?

And maybe saving them.

OH MY GOD I AM A STALKER.

“Come tour my wardrobe,” Mason says, interrupting my tortured thoughts.

Suddenly I have images of seeing his wardrobe, looking at his clothing. Being close to him.

Maybe even asking him to try on something.

This is like the best and worst idea EVER.

“I thought I could help you out. More interesting than shooting your brother.”

I swallow nervously. Oh yes, definitely more interesting.

Which is the problem. I’m supposed to be hiding from Mason. Avoiding him. Not hanging out in his flat with him.

“I think Mason is the perfect person for this,” Isla says.

“Come on, you know you’d rather work with me than Caleb,” Mason says, leaning into me and nudging me with his arm.

The second he brushes against me, I can smell his woodsy, smoky, cologne again. Oh, he smells SO good.

Too good.

UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Mason sits back upright. “Come on, what do you say, Catherine?”