When Avery exits Jon’s office, she keeps her head down. At the last second, she glances up at me and offers a sad smile. I might suck at reading men, but that woman is an ally, a fighter, and a person who protects her own. She sees something in Sean that no one else does. I don’t know if he hides it from them or if they’re blind to it. The man probably puts on an act like the rest of us, but there’s more to it than that. To have everyone who knows you think so poorly of you, it’s odd—almost as if it were intentional. If everyone hates him, Sean has the space he needs to do whatever he needs to do with no one looking over his shoulder.

Avery walks past me then stops. She turns around. “Cassie?”

I turn toward her, stopping mid-step. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for saying something before. I try to act like it doesn’t matter, but it’s easy to tell it does when someone says something kind, protective. I’m not used to that. Thank you.”

“I probably overreacted.”

“Maybe, but if you hadn't, they wouldn't have listened. They all heard you. No one knows what’s beneath the surface. You reminded him of that. I wanted to make sure I thanked you. It’s rare for a stranger to put their neck out for me. Actually, the only other person I can think of is Sean. I’m glad I met you.”

I can’t help it, I smile. “Me, too.”

She holds out her hand to me, and I shake it before she pulls me into a hug and slaps her hand on my back. She smells like strawberries. When she pulls away, she jabs her thumb back at the guys and says, “We know what they want, but I can't believe Jon doesn’t know what he’s doing. Maybe there’s something else going on here?”

I know there is. Jon wouldn’t have bought this place if he hadn't seen me the other night. I provoked him, and this is the repercussion. If Jon hated me, I could see him using the club to hold me here, but after that kiss, I know that’s not it. I admit it. I have no clue what Jon’s doing, what he’s thinking, or why he’s refusing to leave the club behind.

I part ways with Avery and pad over to Jon’s door. I duck my head inside the office. “Jon?”

He has his feet up on the desk and a strange look on his face. He drops his boots to the floor and slips his cell phone into his pocket before glancing up at me and smiling softly. “Come in, Cass. You don’t need to knock. Ever.”

I’m holding my arms around my middle, clutching his coat to my body. I should be shivering, but I’m not. It’s warm. I pull my arms out and hand it to him. Jon looks up at me and takes it. “Will you tell me something, if I ask?”

He nods without a second of hesitation. “Anything.”

“Why not?”

He blinks at me even though he knows what I’m asking. Jon looks at the dingy carpet on the floor, avoiding my eyes, shutting me out.

“Jon, it seems like an arbitrary line in the sand. Why not sign the papers and live to fight another day?”

“Cass—”

“I’m serious. It’s like you’re trying to get disowned.” As I say the last word, I realize what he’s doing. I didn’t see it until that moment. My brows wrinkle together as I ask, “Why?”

Still avoiding my gaze, Jon lifts the packet of papers and holds a lighter underneath. The little flame flicks to life, and he lowers the pages, his eyes focused on the tiny embers of paper as they ignite. “There’s a reason.”

“Is this the best way to do it? To walk away from them? From all of them?” My voice is too soft.

Jon bends at the waist to pick up an empty metal trashcan and tosses the papers inside. The dancing flames are reflected in his eyes. “Please don’t try to bend the truth to make it easier to swallow. I know what they think, what they did. I’m going down in flames on purpose. They all expected me to. I’m just giving them what they want.”

“You wouldn’t have done this if it weren’t for me.”

“I would have done it before now, but it wouldn’t have meant anything. Helping you changes everything. Club Ferro isn't going anywhere. They’ll have to sue me to get the Ferro name off the sign, and they probably will. It won't surprise me if Sean torches the place tonight.” His jaw locks as he speaks like he’s lost in a nightmare while he's still awake.

I reach for him, place my hand on his arm. “Jon?”

When he looks up at me, there’s pain in his eyes. Why haven’t I seen it before? How could I not notice? I squeeze him gently and swallow hard, wondering what secrets are buried within this beautiful man that he wears a candy shell to keep people from finding out. His carefree airhead routine is an act—it always has been.

He forces a smile and squeezes my hand. “Cass, can I crash at your place tonight?”

My heart drops into my stomach. The way he looks at me, the way he touches me makes me think I should say no. I can't sleep with him. I can’t even kiss him. Something’s terribly wrong with him, and I don’t want to be a rebound. I want to be his friend. He needs someone right now, and it’s clear he believes he’s alone, even though he’s not.

Perception is reality.

“Of course," I nod. "I don’t have a lot of room, though, and I need to make sure my roommate doesn’t mind.” His hand feels so good on mine, so warm and caring. I slip my fingers away while wishing I didn’t have to.

“You live with someone?”

“Yeah, Beth. She’s around here somewhere.”

Jon smiles sheepishly. “I sent her home. I sent them all home—paid day off.”

“Really?” I blink at him, shocked. “Why?”

“I didn’t know how things would go with you, and I didn’t want people around, so when you and I were in the pink room, Trystan brought them up to speed, paid them, and sent them home.”

My jaw hangs open, and I stare at him. My mind is hung up on a thought, a small hook snagging me, bringing me back again and again. He thought something might happen, and if it were a fistfight, it’d be better to have people around. That’s not it. Jon wasn’t worried about me going batshit crazy on him. He wanted privacy—he wanted me. Here. Tonight.

My heart trips and stumbles inside my chest. I nearly choke and try to cover it up by coughing into my hand. I look everywhere except at Jon. My head is swimming in the smell of burning paper when I feel his warm touch on my arm.

Jon turns me around gently and releases my arm. Gazing into my eyes, he asks, “What’s going on inside that head of yours, Cass?”

The touch makes me shiver, and my throat tightens. If I speak he’ll hear it, he’ll know how much I want him. It’s not my fault. We’ve always been like this—attracted to each other beyond reason. And that’s my issue, it’s not what I want in my mind, but my body suddenly remembers it's in a corset, bound tightly. It makes my waist tiny and my breasts swell above the taut fabric. I'm wearing the wrong outfit for this conversation. Any physical reaction I have to him is obvious.

I laugh lightly, using the sound to clear my throat while trying to release the vice grip my hormones have on it. “Nothing. You surprised me.”

Jon watches me as I try to avoid his gaze. I finally glance at him and shake my head. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” His pondering gaze makes me antsy. He’s not thinking about ripping my clothes off even if I am. There’s something else there, something delicate—something raw—like a thread of hope on which he’s hung every dream he’s ever had. I’m scared it’ll break. That he’ll fall. That he’ll turn into someone else.

Jon breathes in the smoky air and laughs. “I’m a man, Cass. You’re wearing a corset. Don’t ask me to explain how this works.”

That’s not what he was thinking about, but I act like it was. “I’ll go change.” I tap my fingers together and then pat my bodice.

“Yeah.” He watches me too long, without blinking, thinking things I can’t quite make out. He’s tired and worried, but I get a glimpse of the Jon I met in Mississippi—young and vibrant, unafraid.

“Yeah.” I echo his word, lost in thought, staring at his beautiful face. I wonder how differently things would have been for us if I'd never spoken to that reporter. We would have had our moment and burned up a long time ago. This wouldn’t be here now, this chance.

The voice in the back of my mind reminds me I'm not the same person I was then.

It’s okay. Neither is he.