Just as Joey's face blinked onto the screen, Ivy stepped out from behind the curtain. Winn froze mid-breath. She was dressed in one of her stage dance lingerie sets. His brain stuttered. "Oh—uh—hello—" He coughed.
"Hey, Winn," Joey greeted, casual, unaware.
But Winn's attention had been completely hijacked. Ivy, pretending to ignore the fact that he was mid-video call, shot him a deliberate wink that could have melted steel. Then, with infuriating calm, she picked up the remote control and pressed play on the home theatre system. Music filled the room. R. Kelly's Burn it up. The sound was low enough that Winn could still hold his meeting.
"Winn!" Joey snapped from the laptop screen, snapping him out of his trance. "Are you listening or having a stroke?"
