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The question was so unexpected, that I barked out a laugh.“That’s your distraction tactic?”

“Hey, it’s working, isn’t it?”She grinned, nudging the croissant closer.“So?Spill.”

I picked up the pastry, the layers crumbling under my touch.Shaking my head, I took a bite.“Champions League semi-final, 2014.Last minute of extra time.”

Her eyes widened.“The bicycle kick?That was you?”

I smirked.“You’ve seen it?”

“Are you kidding?That clip’s legendary!The way you just soared through the air, like the laws of gravity didn’t apply to you.And the look on the goalkeeper’s face?It was priceless.”She leaned forward, her excitement shining in her eyes.“What was going through your head when you did it?”

“Honestly?”I took another bite of the sugary croissant.“I was just pissed we were about to lose.”

She laughed, the sound bright and unguarded.“Of course you were.You’re always so competitive.I can’t imagine you letting a loss slide.”

I raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on my lips.“And what makes you think you know me so well, Hayes?”

She shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips.“I don’t.Not yet, at least.”Her eyes met mine, the grey irises seeming to darken, a hint of challenge flashing in their depths.“But I intend to.That’s what this book is about, isn’t it?Getting to know the real Sterling Nightfang?”

I held her gaze, the tension coiling tighter, like a spring ready to snap.“And what if you don’t like what you find?”I asked.

She didn’t flinch, didn’t look away.Instead, she leaned in, her eyes never leaving mine.“Then I guess I’ll have to write about that too, won’t I?”Her voice was steady, sure, the sound of it like a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down between us.

I couldn’t help but admire her, this woman who sat before me, all warmth and light, unafraid to push me, to challenge me.

My eyes flicked to the bag the croissant came from, and I frowned.“Isn’t that bakery on the other side of the city?”

Ariel glanced at the logo on the paper bag, then nodded.“Yeah, I live upstairs from it.Best almond croissants in Huntington Harbor.”

I stared at her, my mind ticking through the logistics.“You’re commuting two hours across city traffic for this job?”

She shrugged, picking at her own pastry.“It’s not that bad.I’m used to it.”

“Unacceptable,” I said, the word slipping out before I could think better of it.“You’re wasting hours every day just getting here.That’s time you could be working on the book.Time you could be doing something else…” I trailed off, the thought of her spending hours in traffic, exhausted and frustrated, pissed me off.

She blinked, caught off guard.“It’s fine, really.I don’t mind the commute.It gives me time to think, to plan.And besides, I like my apartment.I like the bakery downstairs.I like my life.”She crossed her arms over her chest, her chin tilting up, a clear challenge in her eyes.

“I mind.”My tone brooked no argument.“You’re staying at the Four Seasons.It’s a block from here.I’ll arrange it.”My voice was firm, the words like a command.

Her eyes widened.“Sterling, you can’t just do that!It’s too much.I don’t need—”

“You’re here to work, Hayes,” I interrupted.“Not to sit in traffic.If you’re late because of some gridlock, it’s my time you’re burning.And I don’t waste time.”

She opened her mouth to protest again, but I leveled her with a look that silenced her.The stubborn tilt of her chin told me she wasn’t happy about it, but she sighed, shaking her head.“Fine.But only because I don’t want to argue with you.And only until I finish this book.Then I’m going back to my apartment, and my bakery, and my life.”

“Smart,” I said, though the corner of my mouth twitched.It wasn’t strictly about efficiency, and I suspected she knew that, but I wasn’t about to admit it.

In fact, as I watched her pick up her notebook, her pen hovered over the paper and ready to dive back into the depths of my past, I realized that I didn’t hate it at all.I craved it, craved her.

It was unsettling.

But I couldn’t tell her that.Not yet, at least.Not until I was sure that she could handle the truth, the raw, unfiltered reality of who I was.

So instead, I leaned back in my chair and gestured for her to continue.“Alright, Hayes, let’s get back to work.I’ve got a story to tell, and you’ve got a book to write.”

As a smile curled across her lips, I knew that I was in trouble.

Chapter 4