The press room lights felt harsher than usual.
Atticus sat at the long table, microphones angled toward him like silent interrogators, cameras flashing every few seconds as reporters shuffled their notes. Normally, this environment energized him in a twisted way. He thrived on pressure. On dominance. On controlling the narrative before anyone else could.
But today, his mind wasn’t on damage control or reputation.
It was stuck replaying a single moment.
Her lips.
The softness. The hesitation. The way she hadn’t pulled away immediately.
He adjusted slightly in his seat, clearing his throat as another camera flash exploded across his vision. The team’s media coordinator finished introducing him, gesturing for the reporters to begin their questions.
Hands shot up instantly.
“Atticus, h
