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Pax's gaze is like the sun, gently warming my skin and making me feel alive. He's beautiful.

Probably not the right word.

He's more than beautiful.

With a strong jawline that brings out his chiseled features, I feel like I'm gawking.

His eyes twinkle devilishly at my perusal. Mesmerizing yet unattainable.

I can't stop staring.

I've never forgotten how he tasted when we kissed—cherry with a hint of vanilla. Nor what his fingers felt like inside me.

The most delicious sin.

His lips are still full and inviting, like the sweetest of ripe fruits ready to be tasted. I wonder if his voice will still be like honey cascading down a waterfall, smooth and tantalizing.

My cheeks start to warm to uncomfortable levels.

Despite having already met Paxton Ramsey and kissed him, I am not at all prepared to see him again. He was supposed to be a slight reprieve from a shitty night.

Right before I arrived at the party, I had gotten into World War III with my father. All I wanted to do was get drunk and forget . . . enter Paxton.

Of course, the one time I decided to throw caution to the wind and make a reckless decision with a stranger, he'd end up being the agent for the actor opposite my client.

I continue to stare at him, and the moments drag as I wait for him to acknowledge me, but he doesn't. He doesn't say a single word, only furthering my awkwardness.

He continues to peer at me blankly, and my belly drops.

He doesn't remember me.

His jaw clenches, and I realize he does remember . . . but he's not happy I'm here.

“I’m too busy to see you now.”

“Mr. Ramsey—”

“Oh, it’s Mr. Ramsey now?” His voice is hard and taunting.

“If I could just have a moment of your time.”

“As I said before, I understand that my assistant made this appointment, but unfortunately, something has come up.”

“Pax, if we could—”

He holds his hand up. “No. I don’t have time for this—”

“But.”

“You know what? Fuck it. I tried to be nice, but you have a lot of nerve coming here.”

My head jerks back at the animosity directed at me. He's livid, and I'm shell-shocked.

“I can't say that I'm surprised.” He huffs, slamming a folder on the table and leaning toward me. “Your father strung me along, gathered information about my connections . . . but I never did get that job.” He laughs, but it lacks all humor. This is pure, unadulterated hate, and I don't know what to do with that.

So, like a mute idiot, I don't say a word. I simply sit here and play the part of a verbal punching bag.

“Instead, he poached my clients right out from under me. It was a rookie mistake, but I'm not the same man I was then.” He points a finger at me, and I swallow in response. “Got to hand it to you, I didn't see it coming—not over the innocent vibes you were throwing. I guess the project was too good not to try the seduction route.” He claps, nice and slow. A pure indication he's mocking me. “Good job, Mal.”

His words cut through me like shattered glass being sunk into my skin.

Seduction route?

Does he think . . . ? Oh, my God.

He thinks I approached him at the party to—what? Get Teagan the role? My stomach churns, bile rising up my throat at the implications.

Speak, Mallory. Say something. Defend yourself.

“Let's get on with this.” His deep voice cuts through the silence of the room, and although it is exactly as I remember it, the undertones are not. They reverberate through my chest, making my heart lurch.

This man hates me, and I search for something to say to explain that he has it all wrong. His narrowed eyes and hard-set jaw indicate my words would go unheard. My attempts would be futile.

I sit up taller in its wake, needing to fortify my walls. My mouth suddenly feels as dry as parchment paper. I swallow, desperately trying to wet my tongue to get my words out. His chin drops down, and his brow lifts.

“I'm ready when you are.”

I feel like a complete fool in front of him, but I don't let that stop me as I stand. I take one step forward, and he strides to meet me.

Good.

Give me the ammunition I need to be strong and go head-to-head with him.

The ground itself shifts beneath his feet, and I know I can't fuck this up.

This is it. My defining moment.

It's my chance to prove myself, to show what I'm capable of.

It's now or never, Mal.

Fear builds in my chest, but I push it down. With one last deep breath, I take that final step forward, standing taller and readying myself for what I need to say.

“Thank you for meeting with me.” I extend my hand, prepared to be professional despite all that's been said.

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