The Logan Agency looks just as pompous on the inside as the reputation it has built around its name is. Every overly decorated inch of the fifty-seventh floor screams success. If only they knew what my people had been able to unearth about the company most still think is so powerful in the industry.

The glamor hides its failings.

Failings I’m hoping to capitalize on today with my meeting under the guise of finding extras. I wasn’t completely lying to Mia when I hatched this plan and had her put the wheels in motion—getting a few extras for the movie I’m directing and producing is just the stepping-stone to the office. If I happen to find some, great, but I wouldn’t be losing sleep over not having some extra bodies we don’t really need. We’re in the homestretch of production, the final weeks before I’m finished directing my first film one hundred percent.

But really, the motivation behind today is just about getting back face-to-face with Willow, and hopefully, the rest will fall into place.

“Mr. Masters for an appointment with Mr. Logan, please,” I tell the older woman at the front desk. I’ll give her credit; if she recognizes my name or me, she doesn’t give anything away.

“I’ve got it, Mary. I was headed that way,” I hear and turn to look at the smiling face at the other end of Mary’s desk. Her eyes twinkle with mirth, and I know she recognizes me and has no issues letting me know she knows exactly who I am.

Ah, what is this one up to? Trying to get me alone? I’m sure she’s going to pass her number and a whispered fantasy she has about sex with the Kane Masters. She extends her hand, and I look down to see a substantial rock on her wedding finger. Christ, not another married woman.

“Kirby Evans, makeup artist extraordinaire here at Logan.”

“Kane Masters,” I deadpan and take her outstretched hand in greeting.

I watch in fascination as she closes her other hand around our combined ones and throws her head back with a deep throaty laugh. “Oh, calm down, Kane Masters, Hollywood hotshot, you’re at no risk of exploding these ovaries. They’re spoken for and happily so.”

She lets go of my hand, and I manage to keep a straight face despite the shock I feel from her bizarre outburst. Seems that I pegged this one wrong.

“I’ve been married for ten years to my high school sweetheart, Mr. Masters. It would take a lot more than some big bad actor to knock that down. Come on, I was headed back there anyway to check on a friend, so I’ll show you the way.”

“Call me Kane,” I shock myself by saying. Something about this woman, she could probably cause a monk to open up.

“Right. Well, Kane, follow me.”

She takes off down a hallway I hadn’t noticed, and with a smile to Mary, I trail behind her. Her slow, leisurely stride picks up speed at the yelling that can be heard when we’re about halfway down the long hallway.

“Oh, God. Willow!” she cries out weakly before looking back at me in shock. Without wasting a second, she turns her focus and begins running the rest of the way. My senses pick up at the hostile tones echoing around us, and I hurry to follow behind her. When I walk through the end of the hallway and into what must be the outer seating area to Dominic Logan’s office, I see Kirby standing stock-still in the opening of the office labeled with his name in neat gold script against one of the glass panel walls.

If it hadn’t been for Kirby speaking her name just seconds before, I might not have known it was Willow who stood before us facing off with Dominic Logan. She’s much slimmer than the last time I saw her. Her curves are still prevalent, but much less abundant than before. Just seeing her causes that connection we shared before to spark to life. Clearly, that isn’t lacking in the least. Even without seeing those beautiful eyes, I would know her anywhere—as crazy as that sounds even to me.

I was too busy perusing Willow’s lush body that I had zoned out until Kirby’s whimper caused my ears to perk up again.

“Yes, Willow. Are you happy now? The wrong woman died that day and every time I have to look into your eyes, the same eyes of your mother, I hate you more and more. So, do what I fucking said. After today, do me a favor and don’t turn back up. It would be nice not to have to see you again. Then maybe I could pretend it was you and not her who died!”

At Dominic’s words, I can feel my temper spiking. My anger soars through my bloodstream at the vile tone with which he’s speaking to his daughter. Before I can interject, Kirby’s harsh gasp has both of the office’s occupants swinging their heated gazes toward the doorway. I watch as the hurt soothes from Willow’s features when she sees Kirby; obviously, this is whom she had been heading to check on, and based on what we just walked in on, I would say she was just in time.

When those doe eyes move to lock with mine, embarrassment replaces her heartbreak, and I want to kick myself for being the cause, yet again, for added shame.

Shame that has no business ever crossing her face.

Shame that, despite not even knowing this woman, I would love to wipe from her features.

Those protective feelings once again confuse me. Not because they’re there, but because the intensity of them, so much stronger at this meeting, shocks me to my core. I know nothing about her, yet I would do anything I could at this moment to fix whatever is harming her.

Not able to stand the silence any longer, I speak, trying to ease her pain the only way I can right now. With my words. “Are you okay?”

“Uh …” she stutters. Fuck, she’s adorable. Even her pain can’t mask her appeal.

“Right,” I reply with a small smile, reminding me of her stumbled words at our first meeting. Moving my gaze from hers, I lock eyes with her bastard father. Or stepfather, according to my investigation into their backgrounds. Any chance he had of getting me to help his company crawl from their looming home in the forgotten bowels of the industry is long forgotten. Willow makes a startled noise, and I move my angry focus from her father and back to her. Willing myself to calm so she feels safe with me.

I hold her eyes just a beat before allowing myself a quick glance at the body haunting my dreams since I first saw her. Fuck, those tits still make my mouth water, but the rest of her causes my body to harden with desire, despite the hostile environment we’re standing in.

Her black dress isn’t tight by any means, but it also doesn’t hide the stunning, luscious body underneath it. A body I would love to get my hands on and my body over. My cock tightens at the thought of my fingers digging into the soft skin around her hips.

She shifts uncomfortably under my scrutiny, and her hands come up to pull the fabric away from her frame. What the hell? I can feel my eyes narrow, and her hands start to pull more of her dress. No way? No fucking way. What reasons could she possibly have to make a self-conscious move like that? Does she have no clue how beautiful she is?

“Stop it,” I demand, and I’m instantly rewarded when her hands drop.

Before I can return my eyes to hers, Dominic’s voice interrupts. “Kane, you’ll have to forgive me. I thought our appointment was later today. Willow was just leaving.”

My heated, anger-filled gaze flits to his, and once again, I can feel my anger burning like an out of control wildfire. I’m vaguely aware of Kirby moving toward Willow. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her stand at her side and take Willow’s hand, but I don’t move my focus from the man before me. He’s around my parents’ age, but where they have a presence that is open, accepting, and loving, this man holds none of that. I can hear the two women whispering to each other, but I don’t move. Fuck, I’m not even sure I’m breathing as I refuse to back down from Dominic’s cold stare. He won’t dominate me.