“Well, we’re quite the pair.” Cherisse plucked at her robe, and there it was again. The sense that she was nervous. But why?

“What’s going on with you?” he asked.

Her brow furrowed. “Looking for the bathroom, same as you.”

“Not what I meant. You’re acting weird.”

She stuck her hand into the robe’s pockets. “We’re in a weird situation, aren’t we?”

Yes, they were, and her discomfort could be from trying to act like nothing was going on between them, but something else was up here. What he’d learned about Cherisse over the time they’d known each other was that she was good at keeping her cool and, as amusing as it was to see the moments where he ruffled her feathers, this was different. Cherisse might lose her temper with him, but she’d never fumble or fiddle like this.

“I told you, you can end it at any time.”

“Why’s that pressure on me?” she demanded, eyes blazing.

Pressure? Hold on. He looked at her face—really looked. She was barely meeting his gaze, and her teeth kept worrying at her bottom lip. Oh. Cherisse wouldn’t be talking about pressure if...

“Cherisse, I know why it’s hard for me to end this. It’s why I gave you the power. But why is it hard for you?”

Her eyes widened as if he’d caught her in a private moment. “I-it’s not.”

“You mentioned pressure. You feel something, don’t you?”

“The only thing I feel is a tummyache coming on from all those complimentary chocolates I ate,” she said, but the smile plastered on her lips wasn’t reflected in her eyes. “I’m gonna go.”

Had he read her wrong? But what did he expect from Cherisse? She’d made it quite clear what she’d thought of guys in his business. But hadn’t that been before they’d gotten to know each other outside of their initial dislike? Besides, even if she did feel something for him, it wasn’t fair for him to demand she reveal it, here and now.

He forced a smile to his lips. “Yeah, wouldn’t want them to worry.” He turned away to head back to Maxine and the guys, but the unexpected touch to his arm halted his steps. He looked back, surprised to see Cherisse still standing there.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing,” she mumbled before looking up at him. “I do feel something,” she rushed out. “But I don’t know if I’m going to do anything with that.”

“Because of Jerome?” he asked carefully, not wanting to give away how much her hastily spoken words affected him. Calm was the word of the day, even though he felt so far from it.

“Jerome’s got nothing to do with it. I made you think he did, but no. He’s nice to talk to, but...” She reached up to scrub at her face then remembered the mask. “Shit, I gotta wash this off. I don’t—”

“Trust me?” It made sense, considering her history with Sean. Tell her, tell her, just fucking tell her. It was on the tip of his tongue to blurt it out, about working with Sean, about what they were going to do with the video. But her confession was so tentative, and she was standing there looking like she wished she could take the words back. What would his confession do to that?