Page 59 of American Beauty

Maybe he means it sexually—some dominance kink wrapped in polite conversation.

Or maybe he’s just a run-of-the-mill control freak who needs everything and everyone dancing to the beat of his drum.

Whatever it is, it’s a no from me. A hard, resounding no.

This is a precarious situation I’ve gotten myself into. I’m trapped between wanting to shut him down and needing to keep him interested enough to sign the contract.

The expensive food, the luxurious setting, the way he watches me like I’m some prize to be won––I’m not about to play his game.

“How are you holding up now that you’ve had a little time to absorb the news?”

I blink, my spine straightening. “What news?”

“Come on, Miss Steel. Don’t make me spell it out.”

I shrug, pretending to not know what he’s referring to.

He leans in, eyes glinting with something dark and knowing. “Sebring’s engagement.”

The air in my lungs turns to lead, and I grip my wine glass tighter to hide the way my fingers tremble. “I told you. I’m happy for him.”

Tyson studies me for a beat too long, his smirk deepening. “Right.”

The fucker needs to get off my case about Alex. “In case you missed it,I’mthe one who left Alex. Not the other way around.”

Not a lie. But also not the whole truth.

There’s a new crack forming in my armor, and I can’t let him see it. “I guess he found what he was looking for.”

“A blonde.” He hums in amusement, sitting back in his chair with the air of someone who knows what he’s doing. “Sebring always had a thing for fair ladies.”

Alex never told me that was his preference, but I suppose there could be some truth to it. Celeste is a blonde.

“I’m surprised he dated someone like you.”

The words land like a slap, hot and stinging.Someone like you––as though I’m some kind of cautionary tale. Like I’m less. Disposable.

I grit my teeth, swallowing the insult like a mouthful of broken glass. “Guess I was the exception for a brief moment in time.”

Tyson McRae's eyes never leave mine. “What a shame he couldn’t see what he had right in front of him.”

“Alex and I wanted different things. It would never work between us.”

The weight of my lies presses against my ribs, suffocating and inescapable, but I keep my composure. I have to. Tyson McRae is circling like a shark, and the last thing I need is for him to see blood in the water.

“Just so you know… I prefer brunettes.”

I take another sip of wine, Tyson refilling my glass without a word, the liquid mercy I’m too worn down to refuse.

His eyes dance with amusement, observing me. “Drink up, Miss Steel. You’re too tense.”

I glance down at the half-empty glass, my head already feeling lighter than it should. Is he pushing the wine because he wants to loosen me up? Or because he hopes to get me into bed?

Either way, I will keep my wits about me. Because Tyson McRae does nothing without an agenda. And right now, I’m pretty damn sure I’m at the center of his plan.

Dinner ends with a lingering tension, one I can’t quite shake as I push my chair back and reach for my purse. He stands first, ever the gentleman, offering his hand to help me up.

Outside, the night air is thick and warm, wrapping around me like a heavy blanket. Tyson McRae walks beside me, his hand resting at the small of my back as we step onto the sidewalk. The intimate touch sends a ripple of unease through me, but I don’t pull away. Not yet.

---