Page 54 of Sin Bin

Which now makessense.

At the time, I’d only been too happy to get away from Andre after our little elevator incident. Sitting in a separate room which overlooked Manhattan’s skyline with a cup of tea in hand had been just the slice of reprieve I’dneeded.

“You’re hispublicist,” Mr. Collins seethes. “Your entire job is to make sure he doesn’t come off in a badlight.”

I cringe. “I wouldn’t say that Mr. Beaumont looksbadin that video.” No, if anything, he looked way too good. Delicious, even. Trust me when I say that the entire female population would say he looks bad in the best way possible. Since I can’t say that, I settle for, “And I was under the impression that everything was well-received by Mr. Beaumont, otherwise he would have saidsomething.”

Mr. Collins’s accusing gaze swings toAndre.

Andre, mind you, only shrugs his big shoulders. “The speedo was tighter than I liked, but other than that, itwasfine.”

“See?” I murmur. “Everything was fine.Fame’steam did afantastic—”

“Mr. Beaumont, I hope you won’t take offense to this, but you lookedridiculous.”

My mouth falls open. “Now, wait a second, Mr. Collins. Andreopenedup in thatinterview.He—”

Andre’s hand lands on my own, and I’m so shocked by the sudden contact that I grow quiet. His dark eyes roam my face, searching, seeking something I don’t understand, before he glances away. His hand, however, remains on mine.Oh,boy.

“Mr. Collins,” he says stiffly, “I get what you’re trying to say. Honestly, I agree with you. I put up a hell of a fight because Ididn’twant to do something withFame.Stripping down to a speedo that can barely hold my junk isn’t my idea of a good time. With that said, I knew exactly what Miss Mackenzie aimed to do when that interview wasscheduled.”

My boss’s eyes narrow. “And what, exactly,isthat?”

“To strip down my walls and to make me look vulnerable to the public. Something that I don’t do.” He pauses, and his thumb traces the back of my hand. “That’s what Miss Mackenzie wanted with this interview. Is it fucking ridiculous? Absolutely. Do I want the world to see me in a bathing suit that barely fit? No. But thisopennessis what my careerneeds.”

I don’t know whattosay.

I’ve never . . . I press my free hand to my lower belly. Right now, it feels like old times. All those times Andre had my back. All those times I had his. Desperately, I want to flip my palm over and squeeze his hand in return. To show him that I’mhere. Hell, I’vebeenhere.

Maybe this is what we needed to come backtogether.

Mr. Walter-effing-Collins.

Who knew that he would be the tie touniteus?

ChapterFifteen

ANDRE

Thirteen Days Left …

If there’sone thing that I hate in life, it’s lifting weights—even if I’m doing so in my personal gym in my ownhouse.

Give me a running track any day of the week. Hell, drop me in the godforsaken Berkshires out in western Massachusetts, and I’ll be happier than I am whilepumpingiron.

It’s the repetitive motion that kills me. The repetitive breathing techniques and the repetitive number of reps. It’s the fact that I’m stuck in one singular spot, driving myself up a wall since my thoughts can never besilenced.

And right now? Yeah, my thoughts aren’t sosweet.

They aren’tsoholy.

Having Zoe Mackenzie back in my life is certifiably making meinsane.

The heavy iron dips to the right as my thoughts simultaneously go off-kilter, and I’m forced to realign my balance or end up with another broken nose. Not that it would do all that much damage, since the damn thing has been pummeled by gloved fists and Plexiglas boards for the last nine years ofmylife.

Shoulder blades clenching against the cushioned bench, my muscles tighten into balled coils as I inhale and allow the bar to skim mychest.

Stop thinkingaboutZoe.

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