Page 61 of Kisses and Paperclips

And no matter how composed I looked on the outside… my body was already betraying me.

“Black Sapphire,” he said, casually, like he wasn’t just blowing up my entire sense of composure.

I blinked. “What?”

“That’s the line they’re opening with.” His eyes stayed fixed on the runway, calm and certain.

My brows lifted before I could stop them. “You know the spring line?”

His mouth curved at the edge, a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course I do. I’m not just a pretty face, Serena.”

“Oh?” I went in to take a sip of my cider and felt silly when I realized it was already empty. “Who said anything about pretty?”

That earned me a real smile.

But his gaze shifted back to the runway right when the first model stepped into the light.

She was gorgeous… no getting around it. Skin a rich, deep brown that glowed under the soft lights, smooth and rich like warm cocoa. Her hair flowed past her shoulders in waves that nearly matched her complexion, framing her face like something out of a dream.

She wore the Diamonds Are Forever set, from our Black Sapphire collection. The black lace bra hugged her curves like it was custom-made for her body only. The matching panties, high on the hips, were barely there, held together by delicate straps that looked like they might snap if she breathed too hard. She wore a garter belt that cinched her waist, anchored the whole look with just enough edge to keep it sexy without trying too hard.

She walked like silk sliding across bare skin. Fluid and effortless, each step is a soft reminder that not everyone needs to demand attention to hold it. She didn’t just wear the set, she embodied it. Moved like she’d been born in it.

And just like that, the room quieted, because she had every eye on her.

Including his.

Julien didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just watched her with this quiet intensity that made my chest go tight.

He didn’t see me.

He was watching her.

I wouldn’t say I was jealous. That wasn’t it.

It was more like a flicker of something quiet. A shift I felt deep in my chest that I didn’t have a name for.

Because he wasn’t looking at me.

I smoothed my dress and stood a little straighter. Like maybe if I reminded myself who I was, I wouldn’t care.

With his eyes glued to the model, he murmured, “See you later.”

“Hold on a sec.”

He turned my way slowly, his glass dangling from one hand, the other tucked in his pocket like he hadn’t just unraveled me with a glance. Like my pulse wasn’t screaming stay loud enough for the whole room to hear.

I had no reason to keep him here. No clever words, no excuses—just the raw, stupid want that had been gnawing at me since the moment we met. I’d pushed him away not because of work, but because I didn’t trust myself around him.

He was the slice of cake you had no business eating late at night—the kind you swore you’d only take one bite of, just to savor. But one taste was never enough. And God help me, I was starving.

“Have fun,” I managed.

He watched me for a beat, those dark eyes reading me too easily, like I had a neon sign blinking above my head: YOURS, no questions asked. And when it became clear I wouldn’t or couldn’t say more, he gave me that half-smile. The one that wasn’t even trying to be charming and still managed to undo me anyway.

“Same to you, beautiful.”

And then he turned, walking away like he hadn’t just taken the last word and the air with him.

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