Just my luck, Charles turns his head to me and smiles, though it’s really more of a sneer, and it takes all my power not to sigh in exasperation. The last thing I want to do right now is make small talk with this asshole, but he stops to face me fully, his back to Ryan as if he didn’t see him or he doesn’t matter.

“Hello, Scarlett.” He curls his lip when he says it. It takes a second, but something about the way he emphasizes my name—my real name—stokes the little flame that sparked in my belly on my way down the stairs.

The realization slams into me hard enough that I take an involuntary step back as I gasp. “It was you.”

Charles folds his arms across his bulky chest and chuckles without any humor whatsoever. “What? Did you think I was too stupid to figure it out?”

Ryan takes a few steps forward as if he’s going to come to my defense, but he stops when I tilt my head and blink at Charles a few times, considering what to do next. I could do the demure thing and walk away. Considering everything that just happened upstairs, that’s definitely what I should do—smile, play nice, take it on the chin. But as it turns out, I’m pissed, and I left the last of my fucks in that conference room.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you were paying enough attention to come to the obvious conclusion,” I say, thanking everything that is and ever was holy that my voice is even and cool. And then, because I just can’t help myself now that I know exactly how much of a jackass this guy is, I add, “It’s not like my best-selling face hasn’t been all over the place in the past.”

Charles narrows his eyes at me, and his biceps flex a bit as he tenses. He doesn’t say anything, which isn’t a surprise. He’s not quick enough to come up with something witty or cutting.

“Why did you do it?” I have to know, and if I know anything about his type, I know he’s just dying to tell me anyway.

Sure enough, his lips curl into a sinister smile again. “I’ve been secretly meeting with JMP, too. Remember? I thought they might be interested in the information that their imprint signed an author who fucked them over. Turns out I was right. They were very interested.” He removes one of his hands from where it’s folded in his arm and rubs his thumb and fingers together. I take that to mean they offered him a lot of money for his book in return.

“Hmm.” I nod slowly. “Turns out I was right, too. You are exactly as self-centered as I originally thought.”