ISABELLA
If shame had a temperature, it was hot enough to cook me alive.
I stormed out of Logan’s office, my face burning, my pulse thudding so loudly I could feel it in my teeth. Every step I took echoed down the hallway like a guilty confession.
My hands, still tingling from gripping his shoulders. I tugged at my shirt as if I could smooth away the memory of his mouth on my skin.
I should’ve felt triumphant, rich, and even, but all I felt was... flushed. Raw. And not the good kind.
What in God’s name was wrong with me?
I wasn’t supposed to enjoy this. That wasn’t the deal. The deal was simple: s*x, money, and silence. Three things I could handle, three things I could keep separate, filed neatly in little boxes inside my brain. Only today, I’d somehow shoved all those boxes off a
