Page 53 of Intense

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I let that sink in.

Then I wink.

A few people laugh politely. The cameras flash. I hold the trophy high with one hand and press my palm to my chest with the other, all while my eyes never leave hers.

She doesn’t smile.

She’s too pissed.

Perfect.

I step down from the stage, award in hand, and make my way toward the bar instead of my seat. I need another whiskey.

And maybe the distance.

Because if I stay close, I’ll say something I shouldn’t.

Or kiss her.

Or both.

And I’m not sure which one would make her hate me more.

But God, she looks beautiful when she’s seething.

What the fuck is wrong with me? What is this temptress doing to the cold, numb Dr. Quinn?

Chapter 20

STEPHANIE

The motherfucking audacity.

Heat floods my cheeks. Not the flustered kind. The kind that comes right before I throw something heavy across the room. And right now, I’m picturing myself with super strength and launching that asshole off the stage.

And yet, I still don’t look away.

Because part of me, some clearly deluded, masochistic part, likes that he said my name in a room full of people and made it sound like a fucking power play.

Because it was.

One day, I’ll wipe that smug grin off his face.

He turns, trophy in hand, and walks off stage like he just sealed a deal with the devil.

And I’m the fucking fine print.

Josh leans toward me, whispering, “Are you okay?”

I don’t answer. I just grab my champagne and knock it back in one gulp. I need something way stronger than this.

Champagne makes me horny. I need vodka. Tequila. Something industrial-grade.

“Dr. Quinn’s speech was… flattering?” Poppy says from across the table, trying to read my face.

Flattering?

If by flattering, she means a public humiliation wrapped in praise, then she’s dead on.

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