Annika’s gaze fluttered over to Hudson. He’d been finished with his makeup in about half the time she was finished with hers, and was now on a couch in the corner with Ziggy and Blaire, all of them scrolling on their phones and speaking in low, urgent tones. Annika’s stomach clenched with nerves.

“I’m going to be sick,” she said, and took another sip of her tea. Good thing her lipstick was smudge-proof.

“No, you’re not,” June insisted, getting up and dragging a stool over to sit with Annika. “You’re fine. You’ve done interviews before, too.”

“Yeah, but nothing like him.” Annika thrust her chin over at Hudson’s cozy Break Up huddle. “He’s done Forbes and Glitz and BizTech and—”

“Doesn’t matter,” June said firmly. “What matters is you’re comfortable and confident in what you say. You know why you created Make Up; you know the good we do in the world. That’s all you have to talk about. Just speak from your heart.”

Annika took a deep breath. “Right. Just speak from my heart. Easy-peasy.” She paused. “What do you think Hudson’s up to? You know he’s going to try and get one over on me somehow.”

Hudson looked up at her at that very moment, even though it was impossible that he could’ve heard her. His hand slowly adjusted the deep green silk tie at his throat, but his eyes never left hers. Annika’s pulse thrummed at her throat. She forced her eyes away. Nothing had changed since their kiss at his condo, so why was her heart pounding like that? The thing was, her heart was quite possibly very stupid.

“Whatever he’s going to do, you can do better. You’re quick on your feet. Just remember, we’re going to cream them at EPIC. Take that energy with you.”

“Take that energy. Right.” Annika blew out a long breath and took another sip of tea. “I can do that.”

“Yes, you can.” After a pause, June added, “And you look really good.” She adjusted a lock of Annika’s hair over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t it be great if we could just have a makeup artist follow us around all the time?”

Annika pulled on the slim black belt she wore at the waist of her slightly-too-tight red pencil skirt. “Right now, I’d kill to be in something comfortable like you’ve got on,” she muttered. “I feel like I can’t breathe.” She glanced down at her black suede Prada pumps. “But thanks for lending me these shoes. They’re fantastic.”

June smiled, satisfied. “They are, aren’t they? I got them at—”