Page 70 of Empire State Enemies

His eyes trail down my rain-soaked figure, his mouth set in a hard line. “That’s not how I’d describe you in my clothes,” he mutters, a gravelly edge to his voice that does strange things to my heart rate.

His nostrils flare as he takes in my soaked appearance, now draped in his fancy, tailor-made suit jacket.

Then he walks off, leaving me there, trying to sort through my tangled thoughts.

“Let’s finish this,” he barks out, his commanding voice getting Jacob moving.

I pull his jacket tighter around me, catching the subtle scent of his cologne.

He’s unfazed by the rain, with water streaming down his defined face and his shirt sticking to him.

God. His shirt’s all but transparent now, revealing the outline of a dark tattoo across his chest. Damn, he looks good all wet.

I huff with annoyance.

I see what this is—a silly little crush, probably because I’m not used to being around guys like Connor much. Or ever.

He’s throwing me seriously off-kilter, and I don’t like it one bit.

I need to get a grip, fast.

NINETEEN

Lexi

I collapse onto the couch, laptop on my knees, totally spent, while Grace is next to me, noisily sucking down noodles.

It’s nine thirty and my eyes are screaming for mercy after being glued to this screen all night. Between work and checking in on Mom, all I’m dreaming of is bed. And if I’m honest, getting myself off fantasizing about that steamy photoshoot with Connor days back. Welcome to the tragic saga of my lady blue balls.

He. Was. Hard. The man was fucking hard. Over me. I haven’t been up close and personal with a cock in so long. No wonder I went to pieces.

We’ve kept a wide berth ever since that photoshoot, only interacting for more of Willow’s annoying photo ops. Being dragged by Willow to her upscale charity luncheon almost did him in. And then there’s been a steady stream of those “bad boy turned good” college gigs and other PR stunts, even including, by some miracle, an event thrown by a senator for a cause Connor doesn’t completely despise.

All the while I lurk in the background like a nanny, making sure he behaves himself. Not that he tosses anything more thanthe occasional scowl my way. He seems eternally angry that he got hard.

I’ve watched him turn on the high-voltage charm for the crowds—flirty smiles, swagger galore. Students, professors, whoever. Some of these women were swooning so hard we needed a mop to clean up after them.

But when it comes to me, he’s all dark looks and underhanded comments, like acting normal is beyond him. It’s tiring, this push and pull.

And to be totally honest, seeing him lay it on thick with everyone else stirs up this weird concoction in me—not exactly jealousy, more like a blend of annoyance and relief. Relief because, thankfully, he’s not aiming that suffocating charm at me.

Not that I’d want him to. Obviously.

I just grit my teeth and hang tight until it’s time to escort him out.

Grace slurps her noodles in a manner that’s just inexcusable.

“Grace!” I snap, massaging the angry red mark where my glasses have been gouging my poor nose.

She widens her eyes, all faux innocence. “Jeez, someone’s grouchy,” she mumbles, mouth full of food.

I huff out a breath, rereading Connor’s scripted love proclamation for the umpteenth time, my focus shot.

After countless rewrites, Vicky finally approved my draft. Now we anxiously await the verdict from our lord and master, Mr. Connor Quinn. The stills came out decent, all thanks to Jacob’s magic touch-ups.

And so begins phase two of our grand PR scheme—the Love Declaration.

The gossip columns have been on fire with tales of the billionaire playboy and his pristine princess getting snapped in a steamy situation. But, thanks to a few well-placed stories onNexiHub, we’ve managed to sprinkle a bit of romance into the scandal.