I checked my phone one last time before leaving the dressing room, heart instantly starting to pound when I saw an unread text. For someone who supposedly never wanted to hear from him again, I was far too desperate for it to be from Alex. Last night he’d called and texted over and over, but there had been nothing today.

It wasn’t from him. Candace from Hollywood Weekly sent a message that said, Legal just gave me the thumbs-up. Article hits tomorrow.

I replied back, Thank you for being my champion.

You’re so brave. Thank you for trusting me with it.

It was done, then. The timing was awful. I hadn’t been checking the news, but at some point today, Asha would be releasing our joint breakup statement as planned. When this article hit tomorrow, it would look like Alex had broken up with me because I falsely accused his friend.

I had a moment of doubt. I could still pull the article and go back to the way things were. I didn’t need to expose myself to this.

I put my phone away and squared my shoulders in the dressing room mirror.

I was Lady Elena. I didn’t cower before anything.

When I greeted my regular, Greg, in the lounge, he was so effusively excited to see me that I hugged him, grateful to have a reminder of what I’d worked so hard to build with my clients.

We made our way to his favorite room, a feminine space that was supposed to give vibes of Marie Antoinette’s parlor, and I stretched out on a peacock blue divan.

He sat on the floor in front of me, gently massaging the calf of my left leg, working his way to my ankle. Memories of my date with Alex at Level Golf came flooding back. How turned on I’d been from his slightest touch. The feel of his huge hands and the look in his piercing blue eyes when he’d inched his fingers under my skirt.

I forced myself to focus on Greg, trying to shut out the memories and all the feelings that went with them. He slid my shoes off one at a time, placing them reverently on the floor and gazing up at me with adoration.

Instead of reveling in it like I normally would, I resented it. This man didn’t adore me, not really. He adored the idea of me, the meticulous fantasy I crafted for him.

Exactly what Alex had accused me of. Bastard.

I’d known Max had said something and got inside Alex’s head, but I hadn’t quite pieced together why that made sex part of the issue. Alex must have come to the absurdly misguided conclusion that if I had sex with him, then it meant it was true love and Max had been lying about me. Only a man could come up with something that dumb instead of just talking to me. Pull the sword from the stone and you shall be king. Fuck the unfuckable woman and it means she loves you.