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Objectively, Wentworth was decent-looking. He was in his early forties with thick brown hair, brown eyes, and rugged features. Not the type who would have trouble finding female company—until the women got to know him.

Whatever attractiveness he possessed was immediately counteracted by his arrogance and general sleaziness.

“Yeah.” I took several discreet steps back. “I’m glad we got the shot.”

I glanced around and realized everyone had left besides us. I mentally kicked myself for not leaving as soon as the shoot wrapped; no model wanted to be alone with Wentworth.

“We should celebrate.” He closed the distance between us again. Now that he didn’t have an audience, he didn’t seem so concerned with being professional. “My apartment isn’t far. I could order food. Champagne. Other things.” The last two words dripped with suggestiveness.

The army of spiders crawling over my skin multiplied. “No, thanks.” I took another step back, but the wall behind me prevented me from going any further. “I have another appointment soon. In fact, I should?—”

“Really?” Wentworth arched his eyebrows. “Hank told me this was your last job of the day.”

Dammit. Fucking Hank.

He’d been suspiciously quiet since he showed up unannounced at my apartment. Usually he would’ve called at least four times to check in on me, but it’d been crickets.

Maybe it was because he knew I was onto him about his spying. As promised, Vuk had sent his team to sweep my apartment and devices for bugs earlier that week. They’d found one on my phone and one in the Beaumont-branded pen I took everywhere. They couldn’t trace them directly back to Hank, but I knew he was responsible.

Vuk’s team had gotten rid of the bugs and left me a scanner that allowed me to check for “untraceable” devices on my own. The information blackout would’ve tipped Hank off, though he’d been quiet since before then.

I didn’t want to confront him about the surveillance yet. I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for; I just knew it wasn’t time.

Meanwhile, I had another industry asshole to deal with.

“It’s not a job. It’s a…facial appointment,” I lied. I hiked my purse higher on my shoulders and eyed the distance to the door. It wasn’t far, but Wentworth blocked my direct path.

“I heard you’re getting married in a month or so.” He closed in enough for me to choke on the overpowering scent of his cologne.

“I am,” I said with a tight smile. “Now if you’ll excuse?—”

“Is that why you’ve been so distracted? I have to say, I expected more from you.” Wentworth shook his head. “Professionalism matters.”

My temper reared, but I didn’t take the bait. I refused to give him that opening.

“There’s been a lot of chatter about your wedding,” he said casually. “Like how the church ceremonyreallygot pushed up because of a scandal and not because of Orla Ford’s health. Pregnancy, child out of wedlock, that sort of thing.”

“Whoever is saying that is wrong,” I said shortly, too irritated to keep up pretenses. “Like I said, I have a facial appointment soon, so I really need to go.”

I tried to sidestep him, but he was too fast. “There are other rumors too,” he said, blocking my path again. “Like how you and your fiancé aren’t even having sex. It must be difficult. Physical intimacy is important in relationships.” He touched my arm, his breath billowing across my face.

His pupils were the size of quarters.

He’s high.The realization struck me hard. I didn’t know what he’d taken after the shoot, but Wentworth was absolutely high out of his mind.

A cold dagger of fear slipped between my ribs right as he moved, quick as lightning. By the time I reacted, it was too late.

His mouth crushed against mine. He placed his hands on the wall above my head, caging me in while his tongue probed at the seam of my lips.

I was so stunned by the abrupt turn of events that I could only stand, immobilized, while Wentworth Holt kissed me without consent.

I should push him off. Scream, cry,something. But there was a part of my brain that couldn’t quite process what was happening.

We heard stories and we glimpsed things, but within every person lived the small, unshakeable belief that they were the exception. What happened to others couldn’t possibly happen to them. Disaster was possible, but not probable.

So for all the concerns I’d raised about him and all the discomfort I felt, I never truly thought he would be bold enough to make such a move.

Wentworth mistook my lack of response as encouragement. He kissed me harder, one of his hands dropping from the wall to caress my shoulder.