Page 32 of One Last Encore

But no. She stayed. Because damn it, she couldn’t help it. He wasn’t done wrecking her life yet, and some wild, reckless part of her wanted to watch it burn.

And then, just to ruin her further, he leaned in and murmured, "You’re a terrible liar, Ingrid."

Her breath caught hard in her throat. Her name. Not "princess." Not some smug, infuriating nickname. Just Ingrid. It shouldn’t have felt intimate. But it landed like a whisper against bare skin. Like he’d peeled something open, taken a long look inside.

She continued to glare at him, but her brain was melting, slipping through her fingers like heat-drunk honey.

"You–" Her mouth opened. Nothing came out. Words had abandoned her entirely.

Beck grinned.

"Looks like we have another outing, princess."

Her breath came out sharp, fists curling tight at her sides. If she survived this man, it would be a goddamn miracle.

His fingers grazed her jaw, tilting her face up until their eyes locked. His thumb brushed her lower lip softly lingering until she parted her lips like it was instinct, like he owned her breath now too.

"That wasn’t fair," she whispered, even though her voice didn’t sound angry anymore. It sounded… breathless. Shaky.

Beck’s eyes darkened, the kind of look that promised nothing good and everything she shouldn't want.

"I don’t play fair when it comes to you."

His voice was all heat now. Every syllable ghosted over her skin like a kiss she didn’t get to feel.

His hand slid from her jaw down to the curve of her neck, pausing just at the hollow of her throat. Barely touching. And somehow setting off every fire alarm inside her. The lights in the bar should’ve flickered.

"Don’t worry," he murmured, lips brushing close enough to make her sway. "You can pick the next date."

Date.The word hit like a slap. Snapped her back to reality so fast it was like getting dunked in ice water.

Ingrid shoved against his chest, hard enough to reclaim air, sanity, something resembling her spine. But her heart was still hammering like it had a mind of its own.

"No. No dates. I don’t date." Her voice was sharper than intended, but she needed the reminder just as much as he did.

Beck let her go easily, but that damn smirk stayed, plastered on his face like it had signed a long-term lease.

"Okay," he drawled. "Outing, then."

"Sure. Right after I toss you into the nearest dumpster. Seems more on brand."

"Tempting. But I was thinking something with less sanitation protocol and more popcorn. Like the movies."

"Let me guess. So you can yawn, stretch, and pull off the classic middle-school arm-over-the-shoulder maneuver?"

"Please. I was thinking horror movie. High stakes. Screams. You, clinging to me like a koala."

She snorted. "The only thing I’ll be clinging to is my phone while I dial 911."

"And say what, exactly? "I'm trapped at the movies with a devastatingly charming man and he’s armed with a large extra butter popcorn’?"

"That’s oddly specific," she said.

"I’ve practiced."

Beck just stepped back, looking way too pleased with himself. Agreeing to go out with him was a mistake. A loud, sparkly, neon-lit, welcome-to-your-doom mistake. But it buzzed through her like she’d downed three espressos and licked a battery. He had won the game. The rules were clear. She had no choice. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

CHAPTER 10

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