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I wasn’t sure I liked him.

And yet, his presence was so imposing that reacting to him was an inevitability, not a choice.

I shifted in my seat and glanced at the bathroom again.

“Ayana?” Sloane prompted. “Did you hear me?”

I blinked, my attention returning to the call at hand. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“Your interview withLuxury Brides. Can you confirm Jordan is okay with the schedule change?”

“Yes, we’ll make it work.”

Luxury Bridesmagazine was doing a huge profile on our wedding. They were sending their top correspondent to Ireland for on-the-ground coverage, but they wanted to do some preliminary interviews first.

I was already dreading it.

There was a short pause before Sloane surprised the hell out of me. “Are you sure you want to go through with the wedding?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” I laughed, the sound pitched a decibel too high.

“You don’t sound too excited whenever the topic comes up.”

Nerves danced over my skin. I thought I’d done a good job playing pretend, but Sloane had always been too observant.

I’d also gone to her for advice when Jordan first came to me with his proposition. I hadn’t revealed the business aspect of our arrangement, but I had expressed my hesitation about marrying him. I’d framed it as being torn between my gratitude—he’d given me my big break as a model—and my heart. I cared about him, but was that enough?

Sloane had advised me to listen to my gut; I’d listened to logic instead.

Not everyone had the privilege of following their heart.

“I’m just overwhelmed,” I said. “I didn’t realize how much went into wedding planning. It’s stressful.”

I wasn’t sure she believed me, but she didn’t press the issue. “As long as it’s what you want.” Sloane paused again. “If you need to talk to someone, I’m always here. I’m saying that as your friend, not your publicist.”

That was as sentimental as Sloane Kensington ever got.

Emotion tangled in my throat. I forced a smile even though she couldn’t see me. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

The moment soon passed, and we went over a few more publicity-related items before hanging up. It was past midnight on the East Coast, but she worked twenty-four seven.

I was about to check my email when the shower squeaked off.

My heart rate jumped, and I quickly averted my gaze when the door opened so it didn’t look like I’d been waiting for him to come out.

Bare skin flashed in my peripheral vision, but I kept my eyes firmly planted on my phone.

At least, I tried.

Vuk bent down to fish something out of his suitcase. The muscles in his back flexed as he pulled a shirt over his head, and I glimpsed what looked like a tattoo on his inner arm before the shirt covered it.

What was the tattoo of? A symbol, a quote, a name, or a date? I wasn’t going to ask, but I was desperate to know.

I fought an annoyed groan.

I had no frame of reference for my sudden awareness of him. It wasn’t lust, per se. It was…intrigue? Curiosity? Morbid fascination?

It didn’t matter. They were all shades of the same thing.Inappropriate.