came out steadier than she felt.

“The guest room. The pool. The kitchen, when you think no one’s home.” He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him. “You know where every camera is in this house. And you perform for them anyway.”

She should deny it. Should be outraged, offended, threaten to quit.

Instead, she met his stare. “Maybe I do.”

Something flickered in his expression—surprise, hunger, approval. “Why?”

“Because I wanted you to see me.” The confession felt like jumping off a cliff. “I wanted to make you want me. Even if you never did anything about it.”

Harlan’s hand came up, cupping...