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It’s the cocktail hour. There’s time. Come on, the greenroom is over here.

He patted his concave stomach. That goes without saying. I could kill for a lasagne.Lasagne? My eyes widened. That’s your favourite food?

He nodded. That and ravioli. I have a thing for pasta.Mine is cherries. Pippa tugged my hand for attention. Cherries and raspberries and blueberries and—Every berry, we get it. Conner rolled his eyes. Doubt you’ll find them here.

What’s your favourite, Estelle? Galloway’s soft voice wrenched my head up. He didn’t look away, his gaze intense, as if he could strip aside my outer shell and wrench out my secrets one by one.Your favourite food? If you could have anything delivered right now, what would it be?

I bit my lip, flicking through tastes and memories. Once upon a time, my favourite meal was spiced eggplant with grilled halloumi. However, I’d been eating it when the call came about the death of my parents and sister.

I hadn’t been able to touch it since.I SWALLOWED MY fears for the billionth time and kept my fake smile in place.

We’re not going to make it.I couldn’t cry because Conner and Pippa never stopped watching me.

But it didn’t stop my runaway wretchedness.Galloway’s eyes were like missiles tracking my every move. My skin still tingled where he’d hugged me to hop through the forest. And I couldn’t stop reliving the pressure of his erection on my lower belly. What possessed him to do such a thing? And why didn’t I mind nearly as much as I should?