UNDER THE SPOTLIGHT Chapter 29

Early the next morning, I stood at the door of Serena’s apartment, heart pounding like a drum, phone clenched in my hand, hesitating about calling again.

Her messages last night had been ice-cold, keeping me awake, filled with her disappointed look on the balcony and Maya’s desperate kiss.

I took a deep breath and knocked. No one answered for a long while.

Frowning, I dialed her number. Still no answer. A surge of unease rose in my chest:

What if something happened to her?

Just as I was about to knock again, the door creaked open.

Serena stood there in a long white bathrobe, damp hair clinging to her cheeks, beads of water sliding down her neck and disappearing into the collar with a tempting sheen.

Her cheeks were faintly flushed—she’d clearly rushed out mid-shower to open the door.

The robe hung loosely, the neckline half open, revealing a delicate collarbone and a shadowed line of cleavage; the lace edge of her underwear showed faintly.

Heat steamed off her skin, mixed with jasmine body wash, sweet enough to dry my throat.

“Come in.”

Her tone was cool, distant. She turned into the living room, the hem of the robe swaying to reveal pale calves, curves flickering in and out of view, wordlessly teasing my nerves.

I swallowed and followed her, closing the door.

The apartment was so quiet that only the low hum of the AC remained, her scent filling the air like an invisible net strangling my reason.

I sat on the sofa, rubbing my pant legs, my mind a tangled mess, not knowing how to start.

Serena sat in the single chair opposite, crossing her long legs. The robe slid to mid-thigh, revealing more porcelain skin, sexy enough to set blood on fire.

Her chest rose and fell, the fabric so thin it sketched her curves; the lace of her bra showed clearly under the light.

I wrenched my gaze away, my heart pounding like it might explode, my palms slick with sweat.

Silence pressed on us like a wall, squeezing the breath from our lungs.

Her eyes rested on me, cold, as if assessing a stranger. Finally she spoke, voice low and edged with fatigue:

“Liam, what exactly are we now?”

I froze, a rush of images flashing by—the fevered night at the hotel, her soft murmurs, her fragility against my shoulder, and her cold smile on the balcony last night.

I ventured, “Serena, I’m your agent, I—”

“Agent?”

She cut me off with a brittle laugh, hurt flickering in her eyes. “Liam, do you think we’re just an agent and a client?”

Her tone was a blade, stabbing straight into my chest.

I lowered my head, my throat dry as sand. “Serena, that’s not what I meant… I just…”

“Just what?”

She stood and came to me. The motion loosened the robe at her chest, revealing more pale skin, the deep V testing my self-control.

She leaned down, palms braced on the sofa arms, her face inches from mine. Wet strands of hair hung down; a droplet fell onto the back of my hand, scorching my pulse into chaos.

Her scent flooded over me, sweet enough to make me dizzy, but her gaze was cold as ice. “Liam, can you honestly say you feel nothing for me?”

Her words landed like a punch, knocking me speechless. I wanted to deny it, but my mind flashed to the softness of her body that night at the hotel, to Maya’s kiss on the balcony, and to Chloe and Lisa’s teasing. My breathing quickened as desire and guilt tore at me, leaving me nowhere to hide.

Crossed Lines