Page 68 of Sixth Sin

“I know. That’s why I called you.” Her face falls, and I can see the toll this has taken on her.

I can’t stand seeing her like this. I hate it.

Letting out a resigned breath, I flip through a few more pages. “Okay, so, obviously, you’re Isabella. Who’s playing this Sebastian guy?”

“Noah Braddock.”

It feels like someone shoved a needle in my veins and injected me with lava. I can’t breathe. My lungs burn, and my heart is pounding like a coked-up racehorse. Either I’m having a heart attack at thirty-two, or…

No fucking way.

Am I jealous?

I’ve never been jealous over a woman in my life. But the thought of Noah Braddock, America’s clit-clicking poster boy, doing a sex scene with my Angel…

Back the fuck up.

When did she become my Angel?

About ten second ago, asshole.

“Be careful around him.”

“Why? From everything I’ve read, he’s a really nice guy.”

Holding her stare, I force a tight smile. “You of all people should know not to believe everything you read.”

We stand there in awkward silence, scripts in hand and tension pinging back and forth between us like a tennis ball. Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. “What’s the scene?”

Thankful for the distraction, Angel flips through her script while beckoning me over. With no other choice, I stand by her side, still seething. “Sebastian is the CEO of a tech empire, and Isabella is his new personal assistant. She’s been called to work late hours at his penthouse.”

I snort. “Because that happens in real life.”

“Are you going to make jokes the whole time?”

“Sorry, continue.”

“Forget it, just turn to page eighty-seven and read the line.”

The sooner we do this, the sooner I can go home and sort out whatever the hell has gotten into me. Clearing my throat, I assume my best boss voice. “What do you want, Isabella?”

Angel turns into somebody else right in front of me. Those fiery green eyes suddenly look innocent and doe-like, her body seems skittish, and her voice even sounds different. “Mr. Fox, it’s almost midnight, I thought—”

“You thought what? That this job adheres to a clock? You’re done when I say you’re done, Miss Prescott.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispers.

“Come here.” Angel shuffles toward me, somehow making her knees wobble. “Do I scare you, Isabella?”

“Yes.”

I catch her chin between my thumb and index finger. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir. You frighten me more than anyone I’ve ever known.” Her fingers tremble as they ghost along my wrist.

“Fear is only another level of desire, Miss Prescott. Some thrive under its guidance, even crave it.”

Her chest heaves as the tip of her tongue presses against her top lip. “You didn’t hire me to be your assistant, did you?”

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