But underneath the anger, something else is simmering—something darker, sharper. Fear.
If she sees me in that room, under those lights, standing beside Melinda James—will she know?
Will she recognize the man she’s been talking to formonths?
And if she does… will she ever forgive me?
I lean back in my chair, keeping my tone casual. “Actually, I think we can make it work.”
Melinda raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”
I nod, the idea solidifying in my mind, the pieces snapping into place. This is better. This is the way it should happen. Not at theExplosion Protocolpremiere, where the chaos and press will be impossible to avoid. Not in the middle of flashing cameras and scripted interviews.
No.Persefiais Amy’s home turf. On her terms. In a place where she feels safe, surrounded by the world she loves.
It’s the only way this should happen.
And Will? Yeah. He suspected my original plan would blow up in my face.
But this? This just might work.
CHAPTER 10
AMY
I’m staring at the plane tickets to LA again as I walk from the train station to the studio, my fingers gripping my phone a little too tight.
The November air bites at my skin, seeping through the wool of my coat, and I pull it tighter around me. Winter is definitely settling in.
I haven’t told Eli yet.
Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t know how he’ll take it.
He talks about meeting all the time, in that teasing, effortless way of his, but neither of us has actually made a move. Not a real one. And lately, with his schedule ramping up, we barely get to talk the way we used to. The time difference is a bitch, and between his work and my flare-ups, our conversations are getting shorter and less frequent.
And I miss him.
Maya, of course, is all for it. She keeps pushing me to “climb the hot nerd” every chance she gets.
I snort at the memory, shaking my head.
But there’s still that little voice in the back of my mind, the one whisperingcaution. Because realistically? This is how people end up as a case onCrimewatch(if it still aired) or as the “she never saw it coming” voiceover onDateline, while some C-list actor plays me in a cringeworthy reenactment.
I glance up at the dreary gray sky and sigh. A break from all this gloom would be nice. And a week in California, basking in the sun and Eli’s company, sounds like exactly what I need.
As usual, I’m the second to arrive at the office. Maggie always beats me in, but she leaves earlier, a system we’ve both quietly accepted. We exchange our usual hellos before I settle at my desk, preparing for a day of getting lost in the dullness of numbers.
I pull on my compression gloves with a resigned sigh. I hate these things. They make my hands feel suffocated and restricted, like I’m wrapped in layers of cotton. But the pain in my fingers and wrists hasn’t eased, and ignoring it will only make things worse. The gloves are necessary, evenif they serve as an unwelcome reminder of my limitations. It’s enough to make an already dull day feel downright miserable.
But then, at exactly 10:00 a.m., Jolene comes bouncing back from her usual tea round—without any tea—shaking with excitement.
“Will Winters.” She squeals his name like she’s just won the lottery.
I look up, immediately wary.If she tells me that Hollywood’s favorite bad boy has been cast inThe Chronicles of Persefia, I swear to God, I will jump out this window.
Jen beats me to it, barely looking up from her monitor. “What about him?”
Jolene practically vibrates in place. “He’s here.”
