Page 61 of Claiming Pretty

I’d made them promise they wouldn’t kiss, but they’d have to touch. Hold hands. Lean into each other. Pretend to be madly in love.

What if it wasn’t all pretend?

I gritted my teeth and shoved the thought down.

Enough.

The files finished copying, the drive glowing briefly as it ejected.

I grabbed it, my heart hammering, and slipped it into my pocket. Time to get the hell out of this place and end my brother’s little fantasy of playing house with my girl.

But my anger had made me sloppy.

I was halfway out the office door when I saw them.

Ava and Ty, standing just down the hall. Ava looked radiant under the soft light, her hand in Ty’s, her face bright with her practiced smile.

A hollow ache flared in my chest at how effortlessly they played the part of a couple.

Then I spotted the director standing with them, her back to me, and I froze, every muscle locked.

All it would take was one look. One casual glance over her shoulder, and the director would see me standing there, caught red-handed.

I was so screwed.

Ava’s eyes locked with mine, wide with panic.

In the very next breath, she turned to Ty with a honeyed smile and cooed, “Oh, Ty, I think we’ve found our perfect agency!”

Then her arms wrapped around his neck.

My breath caught, and I froze in place, rooted to the spot as her lips pressed against his.

The kiss wasn’t fleeting. It wasn’t a brush of lips for the sake of appearances. It was deliberate. Real.

Icy betrayal gripped me, spreading like poison through my veins.She swore.The one promise I’d demanded from both of them.

No kissing.

No crossing that line. And now here they were, breaking it right in front of me.

The sight of Ty’s arms tightening around her waist, pulling her against him, was a knife to the gut.

My rational mind tried to speak through the chaos.She’s doing this to protect you. To keep the director from turning around and spotting you.

But the jealousy, the fury, burned hotter than reason.

Ty didn’t just go along with it—he leaned into it, deepened it. His hand slid possessively to the small of her back, anchoring her to him like he had every right.

Bastard.

My fists curled at my sides, my nails digging into my palms as I fought the urge to storm down the hall, rip her from his arms, and remind them both exactly who Ava belonged to.

But I couldn’t—wouldn’t—ruin everything. Not when the stakes were so high.

I forced my gaze away, the image of them searing into my mind like a brand, and I moved swiftly down the hall.

The kiss gave me the distraction I needed, the director’s attention firmly occupied, but every step felt like draggingmy feet through molten lead. My chest ached, each breath sharper than the last.

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