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The next morning at eight sharp, Yolanda arrived to pick Ian up. With fingerprint access to his place, she let herself in without a second thought.

She set the breakfast she’d brought on the kitchen counter. Their call time was ten, and with no signs of him downstairs, she knocked on the master bedroom door. “Ian? You up?” she asked.

To her surprise, the door wasn’t latched, and her gentle push made it swing open. Ahead, the ensuite bathroom’s sliding door stood slightly open, the sound of running water drifting out, along with low, muffled groans.

Yolanda froze. Through the steam, she caught a glimpse of Ian–his toned frame, his head tilted back, and water sluicing down his body. She stumbled backward, her hip smacking into the dresser hard enough to make her wince.

Ian’s eyes flew open at the noise. Through the haze of the shower, he turned and spotted Yolanda hovering in the doorway.

Her face burned. She ducked her head and bolted.

The water kept running. Ian’s muscles tensed under the spray. He looked down and dragged a hand through his wet hair, droplets flying as he reached for a towel.

After drying off, he caught his reflection in the fogged mirror: jaw clenched, and something too sharp to name flickering in his eyes.

Downstairs, Yolanda sat stiffly on the couch, her pulse still hammering. In all her life, she’d never walked in on a man like that. Her skin burned, and her thoughts tangled into knots.

She’d always treated Ian as just her friend, completely ignoring how charming he was. But the image of him, water–slicked and sinfully built, burned behind her eyelids. She groaned, thumping her forehead with her palm.

A movement in her periphery made Yolanda glance up. Ian was coming downstairs, unusually quiet–not that he was ever talkative, but today, the silence felt deliberate. Like he was avoiding her after the bathroom incident.

Heat prickled her neck. She scratched her cheek, staring at the floor. “Hey, uh, sorry about before. I thought you’d still be asleep. Didn’t mean to walk in on you showering. Well, I’ll drive you to the set. We’ll leave by ten.”

Ian just slid into a chair, shoulders rigid as he unpacked the breakfast she’d brought without a

word.

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Chapter 28

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:>))

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bad for not calling first. Next time,

he cut in,

loosening her shoulders. Then, almost against her will, a wry thought flickered through her mind. ‘Twenty–three–year–olds and their endless stamina. Between his boxing routines, that unfairly perfect face, and–well–everything else,

had pulled herself together–hair neatly tied back, that fleeting blush long faded,

picked at his food with deliberate slowness. An amused smile tugged at her

to say something. But after a beat, he just pressed his lips together and

until they were in the car

film crew was shooting on location for a fantasy drama, which meant the first month of production would take place almost entirely in the mountains. And the drive

nose. Last night, when she’d asked him about the schedule, he’d been vague. And like an idiot, she’d agreed without

passenger seat, his voice carefully

trouble-”

her to back out now. “No trouble at all,” she cut in, forcing cheer into her tone. “Pack whatever you need. I’m your agent and assistant now, remember? This

faint smirk curled at the corner of

against the car, arms crossed, as she watched him haul out his suitcase and backpack. With his casual clothes and slightly tousled hair, he really did look like some college kid heading out on a

tossed his bags into the backseat before sliding into the

car, so when Yolanda

years, and as she drove, she

11:36 Wed, Sep 10

Chapter 28

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the roadside. Spring had painted the city in bursts of color, flowers

they plant all these? I don’t remember this section being so… floral,”

years ago,” Ian

then, her phone rang. She pulled over to

maid from Moonbay Estate. “Mrs. Sinclair, your wedding anniversary is the day

had gone all out–candlelit dinners, fresh flowers, and

it was for a last–minute business trip, though she later learned he’d

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