[Veritas PR—Interview Room]
Elle stared at him.
That freaking bastard. The one who once called her "Aunt."
The one whose idea of communication during their breakup was a voice memo sent from a mountaintop retreat, where he said, "He cheated on her because she looked like Aunt."
And now…
He was here.
In her office.
With a resume. Wearing a turtleneck. A navy one. Like some kind of smug, cologne-soaked sea lion.
Her blood pressure? Currently in pressure cooker mode. One more word from his stupid mouth and she was going to whistle like a teapot and blow the roof off.
She muttered under her breath, "Do I get at least one free murder?"
Ava, sipping her matcha like it was tequila, leaned in and whispered, "Nope."
Elle sighed, eyes locked on the enemy. "Thank you."
Ava smiled faintly. "Did we just transmigrate into a rom-com? Like… the budget Netflix kind?"
