Page 25 of The Clinch
Eden waits.
“Boxers seem to be my kryptonite,” I add dryly.
Her mouth curves, but she doesn’t comment or tease. “You’re not trapped here, Liz. You’re protected.”
I shake my head. “Protected sits way too close to controlled for my taste.”
“Not with Leo,” she says without hesitation. “I know my brother. He’ll never cross a line that way. You’re not alone this time.”
A soft buzz cuts through the room. My phone lights up on the nightstand.
Eden reaches for it and hands it to me.
JESSICA
Today is yours
Tomorrow evening we need visibility
A charity event at the Met
Formal, controlled, athlete crowd
Cameras will be there, but we manage them
I show Eden the text.“That’s actually perfect. Controlled environment. Security. Easy exits,” she says.
“A gala. With Leo. Pretending to be a couple.”
“Pretending,” Eden echoes, eyes narrowing slightly in a way that tells me she saw something in the kitchen I didn’t mean to show.
There’s a knock on the door.
“Everything okay in there?” Leo asks through the wood.
Eden squeezes my hand once, then stands. “Yeah. We’re good.”
She opens the door. He’s in the hall, shirt on now. His attention moves between us, assessing without interrogating.
“You need anything?” he asks me.
“No.”
He doesn’t push. His focus lingers a second longer, warm and even.
“Come on,” Eden says gently. “Let’s grab your things. I’ll help you unpack.”
We step past Leo, and I swear—just for a heartbeat—the air shifts between us.
Not because he moves closer.
He stays exactly where he is, giving me the distance I need. Somehow that restraint is worse than any move he could’ve made.
Eden catches it. Her eyebrows lift.
“Liz.”
“Don’t.”
