I wanted to hate the feeling of his body shielding me with warmth. I wanted to hate him for kissing me. But, God, I didn’t.

“At least give me a chance to explain,” he said.

“Explain what? That you’re using me for your own pleasure while being committed to Kelela?”

“I’m not committed to Kelela.”

“You’re a liar.” I pushed against his pull, managing a small gap before he slammed the door shut again. I felt my heart pumping, irrationally, my adrenaline kicking in from being cornered in a small space. It didn’t matter that Magnus could never scare me, would never pose a threat, whether he intended to or not. Soon my good survival habits would prompt me to put a stop to it more violently. “Back away from me, sir.”

“Again with ‘sir.’ Andromeda, it’s me—”

I spun to face him. “You are my employer, sir. Nothing more.”

His grip loosened, his hand trembling against mine. “What can I do to prove I want you?”

Before tonight I would’ve blushed. Felt unworthy of the sweet attention I was being shown. Now I knew the attention meant nothing.

But his expression was knitted with pain and desperation and—oh God, why was he looking at me like this? I had to repeat to myself that he was a dirty liar, that he wanted Kelela, that he had drawn her. But he was so close I could feel his breath caressing my face, and I wanted his lips, I wanted them—

As if hearing my thought, he kissed me. I bucked anyway, shoving hard against his chest, trying to pry his hand from the back of my neck, to turn my face away from his. But when a verbal protest finally made it to my lips it didn’t sound like a protest at all.

I grabbed his sweater, dragging him closer so quickly we slammed against the door. But he didn’t stop kissing me, and I didn’t want him to. For a moment, our souls spoke to each other a single truth, shutting out all the anger and shame. In that moment we both wanted each other, deeply and honestly.

But then the moment was over, and reality stepped back in … and honesty had nothing to do with it.

I pushed his face aside to catch my breath. Magnus let me, thank God—maybe because he knew his fantasy was over.

“You flirt with me,” I said, my voice shaking. “You kiss me. And the whole time you’re engaged to someone else.”

“But you want this too, don’t you?” he said, and I felt like a thread about to snap.

I shoved him in the chest, and he stumbled backward. “I may be poor and ugly,” I said, “but I have human rights, same as anyone. I will not be a fancy to you like your engagement was. I will not be used.”