Aurora Sage had told herself she wouldn't let it get under her skin. Logan Mason's kiss with Sonya was scripted, professional, expected in his line of work. She'd trained her entire life to control her reactions, to stay calm when bullets flew and lives hung in the balance.
But she hadn't trained for him.
The image replayed in her mind with a vicious persistence—the curve of Logan's mouth pressed against Sonya's, the way his hand gripped her waist, the deliberate glance he'd thrown at Aurora as if to say: This is what you do to me.
Aurora clenched her jaw as she walked down the hotel corridor later that night, leaving him behind on set. Distance was necessary. If she stayed, she would've done something reckless—something he would have loved, because he thrived on provoking her.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Every nerve sharpened. She answered.
"You're wasting your time babysitting a movie star," a distorted voice said. "Logan Mason isn't worth the price you'll pay."
