“Jude.” My tight expression finally melted into a smile.

“Steve, let’s go into Célian’s office.” Kate jerked her head toward the hallway, and the bastard actually had the audacity to stomp under his desk. How old was this guy?

I got back to my desk and stared at the Reuters reports, chewing on my lower lip and trying not to think about Célian’s fiancée. I knew I was being irrational, but I still logged into the LBC software’s messenger app and group-messaged Grayson and Ava. For the past week, I’d been spending my lunch breaks exclusively with them. Not surprisingly, they had their noses in everyone’s business.

Judith: Did you know Célian Laurent is engaged?

Grayson: What’s it to you, Miss I-don’t-know-him-hey-look-a-squirrel?

Judith: It was a surprise, is all.

Ava: They’re childhood sweethearts.

Grayson: Sans the sweet part. I’ve seen them together enough to know the man loves her as much as I love getting my crotch waxed. (The results are far more aesthetically pleasing than shaving, if you’re wondering.)

Ava: We weren’t, but thanks for the mental image.

Judith: Célian doesn’t look like the kind of guy to do something he doesn’t want to do.

Grayson: Let’s just say it’s an arranged marriage of sorts. Célian is doing it for the same reason he does everything—to get ahead in the game.

Ava: Her father owns Newsflash Corp. They distribute eighty percent of the magazines in the US market, plus her family has ten-percent equity in LBC. Don’t worry about Célian. No chance of him ever lifting a finger without calculating the consequences and risks.

“She’s right,” a husky voice boomed above my head, and I snapped my gaze up, my blood freezing in my veins.

My knee-jerk reaction was to apologize profoundly, but then I remembered what had brought this conversation on. My browns met his blues. I tilted my chin up.

“I do whatever—and whoever—I want, and my favorite finger is the middle one. Makes for very unhappy critics. And one-night stands.”

How had this guy not been assassinated yet? He was a walking, talking personal offense.

I kept my mouth shut. We were in a room full of colleagues. No way I could tell him what I thought of him and end the day still gainfully employed.

“Let’s take this conversation somewhere soundproof,” he ordered.

“Pass.” I gathered some reports I’d printed out earlier and began to highlight the headlines I thought would be of interest to Jessica. Hadn’t we agreed our fling was over? It was none of my business that he was a cheater. Even if it made me want to staple my fist to his face for falling under his charm. Twice.

“The sooner you realize I don’t use question marks, the easier you’ll adapt here. Up.” He turned around, storming toward his office. I followed him because I had to. We went in just as Kate and Steve were coming out. He closed the door behind them and leaned against it, hands in his pockets.

“You’re engaged.” I narrowed my eyes into slits, giving his hard pecs a shove. He didn’t move from his position against the door. Just stared at me with his bone-chilling indifference. “Freaking engaged, Célian!”

“I’m sorry, were you expecting a ring after our one night together?”

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

“No, but I was not expecting you to be engaged to another woman. Had I known, I never would have touched you. Just because you don’t have any morals doesn’t mean I don’t, either.”

“Please tell me more about your morals, Miss Still-Owes-Me-A-Grand,” his eyes traveled along my body with boredom.

Fifteen hundred, actually, but that wasn’t something I was eager to correct him on.

I waved a hand at him. “Just say what you want to say and let me get on with my day.”

I turned around, staring at the wall and refused to show him my pain, which he seemed to thrive on.

His posture unstiffened, and he stuck a hand into his unruly, tousled curls. “That being said, it is not what it looks like.”

“Hmm… My favorite cheater line—right after, ‘I can explain’.” I clucked my tongue, still staring at the wall behind him.

“Are you going to listen?” His lips thinned in annoyance.

“Not if I can help it.” I shrugged.

“Then I guess you can’t. Lily is well aware of the fact that I’m seeing other women. We do not share a bed, a house, or even a joint gym membership. As your friends pointed out rather bluntly, my engagement is one of convenience.” He dragged his long fingers over his jaw.

I chose my next words carefully.

“You said your life is none of my business. I tend to agree with that sentiment, especially now that we’re officially done with each other. So while I appreciate you explaining yourself,” I spat sarcastically, “I really think this conversation is over.”

I made a move toward the door he was blocking. He stopped me, resting a hand on my wrist. Our eyes met, and I found his bleeding with pain. But his set jaw, high cheekbones, and smooth, regal forehead all told a story of a formidable man. My lonely heart believed his eyes. The rest of my body knew it made no difference.

“Chucks.”

Stop calling me that. Stop giving me nicknames and orgasms and hope, I internally screamed.