Page 14 of Fallen Heir

I’d let her walk, sure. But not far. Not without me watching her back. Not with danger still circling like sharks. Danger she hadn’t even known existed.

“Deal.”

She unfolded her arms slowly, extending her hand with reluctance and a spark of something I couldn’t place.

“Then we have an agreement,” she said.

Our hands met—warm, firm, and electric.

And as her palm pressed against mine, I made a silent promise: She’d never know what I was after.

I let go slowly, lingering just long enough for her to feel the weight of it.

“Give me your number,” I said, reaching for my phone. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

She hesitated for half a second, then rattled off the digits.

I typed them in, saved it under her full name.

No emojis. No games.

JustSavannah Sinclair.

I nodded once. “You’ll hear from me soon.”

Then I walked out, leaving her standing in the middle of her office like I’d just flipped her entire world upside down.

Because I had.

Chapter 7

Savannah

Oh my God.

What have I done?

The second our hands parted, my stomach twisted like I’d swallowed glass. I could still feel the weight of his palm against mine—steady, warm, confident. Like he knew I was going to say yes the whole time.

I didn’t even know why I had. Something inside me had just… reacted. Some reckless part of me that used to take risks, back when I was someone else.Before.

But deeper than that—deeper than logic or fear or caution—was the way my body had responded the moment he looked at me. Like every nerve had been rewired to want him. Like his voice struck a match along my spine. My skin tingled from where he touched me, and a low ache bloomed deep in my belly—dangerous and impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just an attraction. It was heat. Tension that settled between my legs and spread like wildfire. A sensation I’d never felt before.

How the hell was I supposed to fake-date a man who could unravel me with a single glance and make my legs feel like Jell-O with a single touch?

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be seen on red carpets, in flashing lights, on the damn cover ofPage Sixwith the same man I was supposed to be “fake dating.” Because the reality is that while Jaxson Westbrook was a PR disaster waiting to happen... I was a woman on the run.

My ex-husband wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. Connected....And if he saw me? Someone else saw me? Recognized me? It would all be over.

New name. New life. New me. That was the plan. I’d stuck to it like gospel—kept my head down, stayed off social media,avoided anything that could trace me back to Alabama. Could trace me back to him.

And now? Now I was supposed to smile for cameras and play pretend with the most photographed bachelor in Manhattan?

No.

Hell no.