Page 97 of Can't Stop Watching

Shit.

"Your face just went all dreamy again," Tessa points out. "It happens every ten minutes since you met him."

"No, it doesn't. It's just—" I struggle to find words that don't sound pathetic. "I've never had someone see all my messy parts and still want to stick around. Dane knows about New Orleans, knows I'm fucked up, and instead of running, he just holds me tighter."

"Because he recognizes the same damage in himself," Tessa says quietly. "You both survived different hells."

"But that's not enough to build something real on, right? Mutual trauma?"

Tessa shrugs. "Maybe not. But mutual understanding? That's rare as hell."

I press my palms against my eyes. "God, this is so not what I signed up for."

"Life rarely is, sweetie." Tessa reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "But sometimes the best things aren't on the schedule."

Lila shakes her head.

I shake my head, pushing thoughts of Dane and his confession to the back of my mind. "I've got to focus on the interview. I can't be sitting there thinking about Dane or daydreaming about what he did to me last night."

"Which part?" Tessa arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Does it have to do with the handcuffs you mentioned earlier because I wantdetails."

"Not now!" I dig through my bag and pull out my stack of flash cards bound with a rubber band. "Can you quiz me instead of psychoanalyzing my disaster of a love life? I need to nail this interview."

Tessa takes the cards with a dramatic sigh. "Fine. But you're not getting away without sharing. There's no avoiding me."

"It's not avoidance if there's an actual deadline involved. I promise I'll tell you later." I tap my watch. "I'm on at 10:30, sitting in front of people who could determine my entire career trajectory, and one of them is Creepy Langford with his dead shark eyes."

Tessa grimaces. "Right. The maybe-Yale-girl-disappearer."

"Exactly. So I need to be on point, not thinking about whether I'm falling for a dangerous PI with baggage to match mine." I straighten up in my chair. "Hit me with the first question."

"Okay." She clears her throat. "What would you say is your greatest strength as an investigative journalist?" Tessa reads off the card, her voice shifting into mock-interviewer mode.

"My greatest strength is my persistence. When I know something's wrong, I don't stop digging until I find the truth, regardless of who wants it buried." I recite it confidently, then frown. "Too aggressive?"

"For most places? Maybe. For Veritas? Perfect." She flips to the next card. "How would you handle a source who becomes reluctant to share information?"

I take a deep breath. "I'd establish trust by being transparent about how their information would be used. I'd emphasize the importance of public accountability while respecting their concerns about potential blowback."

"Good. Not 'I'd break into their apartment and plant surveillance equipment.'" Tessa smirks.

"Jesus, that's not even funny." I roll my eyes, ignoring the little voice wondering if Dane does stuff like that. "Next question."

As Tessa continues quizzing me, I feel my focus sharpening. This is what matters—my career, my future, my chance to bring evil people to justice. Not some complicated, intense whatever-this-is with Dane Wolfe.

Even if he did just hand me his heart wrapped in barbed wire, and I'm tempted to hold it and help it heal.

31

LILA

Ichange into Tessa's borrowed suit in the cramped bathroom stall of the library—struggling to zip up without catching the silky blouse. Outside the stall, I check myself in the mirror. The polished version of Lila Marks stares back at me, but underneath I'm still the bartender who can spot a bad tipper from across the room.

"You've got this," I mutter, straightening my shoulders.

In the Uber, the driver keeps glancing at me in the rearview. Yeah buddy, women in suits exist, shocking development. I ignore him and mentally run through potential interview questions.

I tap my foot nervously as we inch through Midtown traffic. Ahead, the Financial District waits for me.