‘I don’t do signings,’ Evie counters. He knits the tops of his eyebrows together. ‘I’m not very good … publicly. I don’t like it. I told you. I’m a private person.’

‘Emails, then,’ he pushes. ‘DMs.’

She shakes her head. ‘Somebody else takes care of all of that for me.’

‘Reviews?’

‘Nope.’

‘Whoa. You literally have no idea what your work means to people? You don’t have a relationship with the people who buy it?’

She shakes her head. She writes it, and what happens after that is none of her business. That’s what she’s always told herself.

‘You’re changing lives, Evie. You should fire your people if they aren’t making you see that. That’s why I wanted you here. You’ve helped me, Evie. The way you see the world helps me to see the world. I don’t care that your books aren’t even for me. I’m a dude who reads romance! So what! I bloody love them. They give me hope, Evie. Do you know how incredible that is?’

Evie can’t compute the passion with which he’s talking. It’s hyperbolic, all this. He’s an actor; he’s paid to be dramatic. And she isn’t this great inspirational figure he’s making her out to be. She’s a mess.

‘I don’t write to tell other people how to live their lives,’ she tells him, once he’s calmed down. She takes a breath, knowing what she wants to say but hesitating. Can she trust him? She decides that she doesn’t care. The truth is the truth. ‘I write to escape my own.’

Duke stops smiling. He looks at her, intently. For a moment, the air feels charged, like if she leans forward he’ll be pulled into her orbit too, right until their lips collide.

‘That’s exactly why I act,’ he whispers.

He reaches out a hand to her, and for a split second she lets herself enjoy it. The feeling of being understood. Seen. Heard. Appreciated.

Then she pulls away.

Men leave.

Don’t trust anybody.

She could never be enough, anyway.

This isn’t real.

‘It’s my bedtime,’ she announces. She’s rattled, the wine sitting heavy in her stomach. She can’t buy into what he’s saying – not to mention how he’s saying it. Okay so she’s googled some articles about him and had some thoughts about his arms. The fact remains, though: this? This ‘relationship’? It’s fake. He’s a damned good actor, though – she almost reached out a hand back to him, almost laced her fingers through his. Is this why actors on sets always end up together when they’re filming? Because fact and fiction get so easily blurred? She picks up her laptop and shoots him a closed-mouth smile, and before he can say anything else she gets the hell out of there.