AUTHOR
Payton's flirting intensified, becoming a performance with only one intended audience member. She laughed too brightly at nothing, leaning over the glossy Giorgetti table to give Reomen an unnecessary view down her Chanel jacket. She was laying it on thick, a blatant, desperate display.
And Reomen played along. He didn't encourage her outright, but he didn't stop her either. His smirk was a permanent fixture, his engagement just enough to fuel her hopes.
He offered a dry comment here, a raised eyebrow there, making it seem like he was genuinely entertained by her vapid charm offensive.
It was a masterclass in subtle manipulation, and Payton, in all her airheaded glory, was buying every second of it.
Across the table, Paige was unraveling.
A sick, hot knot twisted in her stomach. Her palms felt clammy against the cool leather of her Herman Miller chair. The numbers on her legal pad blurred into meaningless lines.
