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“Clio?”

At five-nine, she topped hiaze on level with hers, he cupped her cheek There was no way to curb the shiver that speithin

“Is everything all right?”

The false sweetness in his greeting sent nausea rising through her “Actually, I’m not okay”

There was no need to pretend about her mood She had not an ounce of belief that she could carry it off even if she tried

Stepping away frorabbed a bottle of water

His gaze was still on her but she let hers drift over the sitting area and the dining room

Desperate to be loved, desperate to feel she’s succeeded at so

Her chest was so tight that it felt like aBecause everywhere she looked, there was no trace of her in the space she had lived in for four years It was all either an extension of Jackson’s loud personality or the abode of a New York financier Nothing about the flat reflected her

How had she not seen this until now? Her fingers shaking on the plastic bottle, she took a sip of the water and forced the knot in her throat down

“Clio, you left the party yesterday without inforht except for that text Where the hell were you?”

“With an old friend,” she replied, finally setting her gaze on him

Not one strand of his expertly cut blond hair was out of place He was dressed to iray suit—his ice-blue shirt chosen explicitly to bring out the blue of his eyes by none other than Ashley and picked up at the dry cleaner every week by Clio

He had screwed his assistant barely half a mile away from her and had the temerity to deuilt Not even a shadow of hesitation

Had she made it that easy for him? Had it been so easy to mock her, to use her?

“Clio Open thator—”