Page 94 of Fangirl

Ridiculous, oversized black sunglasses, leftover from aBreakfast at Tiffany’scostume party two years ago? Check.

And right in front of me? Hollywood’s most notorious bad boy, sauntering toward the private elevator like this is just another Tuesday.

The second the doors slide shut, I mutter under my breath, “This is so stupid.”

Will grins, cocky and unbothered. “Sweetheart,everythingworth doing is stupid.”

I glare at his reflection in the mirror-lined elevator. “That’s not a comforting motto.”

He shrugs. “Worked for me so far.”

The elevator hums as it climbs, each second twisting my stomach tighter. Somewhere above me is him. Jake. Eli.Whateverhis damn name is.

And I have no idea what the hell I’m walking into.

“I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I mutter.

Will flashes me a sharp, wicked smile. “Oh, honey, you didn’tletme. You just finally realized I’m always right.”

“No, I went ahead because youblackmailedme,” I snap.

He waves a dismissive hand. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. Make me your bad guy if you want. So many others do. But just remember how awkward it’ll be when I’m standing at the altar as your future husband’s best man.”

“My w?—”

I don’t even get to finish before the elevator dings, and suddenly, Will is shoving a sleek black key card into my palm and pushing me out of the elevator.

“The Leopold Suite,” he says, gesturing to the end of the corridor. “Bottom of the hall. Don’t bother knocking; he won’t hear you over his depressing-as-shit music while he drowns in self-pity over his little accountant nerd.”

Isputter. “I… Wha…”

But the elevator doors are already sliding shut, and Will, absolute menace that he is, shoots me a wink just before they close.

I stare after him, my hand clenching around the key card.

Then, slowly, I turn toward the corridor, glaring at the pristine walls, the plush carpet, the absurd opulence of it all.

I inhale deeply. Exhale slowly. My heart pounds, and my legs feel like jelly. I should walk away. I should run. But my feet… they don’t listen, and I start walking.

Will Winters and hisentirebloodline better be prepared because if this blows up in my face, I’m haunting them all.

I don’t listen to Will. God knows I’ve done that enough for one day, maybe enough for a lifetime.

Instead, I knock. Once. Twice.

The sound feels too loud in the silence of the hallway. My hand tightens around the plastic key card, the edge digging into my palm, grounding me.

Nothing.

I sigh.Damn it… The trickster was right.

Swallowing hard, I stare at the door, then slowly slide the card toward the reader… but I stop, my fingers trembling.

Why am I even here?

I keep telling myself it’s for answers. Closure. One last conversation so I can walk away and be done.

But would it really be that easy?