I shove him out of my mind for the moment. I’ll return to him tonight as I dive into my prep. When I reach the lobby I duck into the restroom, change out of my super-reporter outfit, and slip into something that feels more like me.

The me who met the duke.

Do-it-yourself Sabrina.

Since it’s easier to change here than go home, I tug on a short polka-dot skirt I made and a pair of red ankle boots, tucking my work skirt and pumps into my bag. I leave on the blouse since there’s just something about a cute white blouse that works with nearly any outfit.

As I look in the mirror, I consider my hair, scooping it up. Will he kiss my neck again today? Will he nibble on my earlobe? Grab my hands, steal me down a hallway, and press those lush lips to mine?

I shiver as the delicious memories dance before my eyes.

I’ll say yes. I’ll say yes to whatever he wants to do to me.

I let go of my hair, leaving it down, then clip one side with a small rose-gold barrette with a tiny crown design at the top. I pair them with little crown stud earrings, then I layer tiny pink hoops above them.

My stomach flips nervously. I’m going to see him in person. Without masks and with names. Will we still like each other?

Part of me wishes we could keep up the charade, but another part wants to know him for real.

As I catch the subway to The Dollhouse in Tribeca, my phone lights up with a message—the contact for Mr. Parker. I send her an email as the train rumbles under Manhattan, and when I arrive at the station, her reply lands in my inbox.

Tomorrow, I have my first interview.

A few minutes later, I enter The Dollhouse, grab a stool at the bar, and do a double take when I see Flynn Parker walking toward me.

11

Flynn

An hour earlier

“There you are.”

As I wait for the elevator—and “wait” is a generous description, because it’s more like I tap my foot and count down every single second because I am so amped up—I turn to see Jennica marching to me, pink sunglasses perched on her head, a huge purse weighing down her arm.

“Here I am,” I reply.

“You’re leaving early?”

“It’s five thirty.”

She arches a brow. “That’s early for you, Flynn.”

I shrug, taking off my glasses, wiping the lenses on a shirtsleeve, and putting them back on. They’re as clean as they were . . . well, before I cleaned them. “Anyway, you’re looking for me?”

“I want to let you know I’m ready to accept my badge of awesome right now.” She pats her chest.

“And to what do we owe the honor of your awesomeness today?”

She thrusts an arm in the air, victory-style, as the elevator arrives. We step in together, and I press the button for the lobby. “I was on the phone a few minutes ago with none other than Bob Galloway. He has officially assigned a reporter at Up Next to do an in-depth feature piece on you.” Her voice rises high on the last word as she pokes my shoulder with affection.