Page 70 of The Last Love Story

That seems to be the answer he needed. He steps back, walking toward the hallway door. I don’t owe him anything. I know that. We’re notfriends.But I know, deep down, he’s scared. He built a life where he couldn’t trust anyone, where the entire world is on his shoulders.

He’s wrong. He’s not alone.

“It’s going to be okay,” I say out loud. I can see him go still across the room as I stare into the glass.

“Did Callum agree to renounce his father? Is he going to come out and expose what the Union Conference is really about? Because you’re down to”—he consults his watch—“fifty hours.”

A small panic bites up the back of my throat. Fifty hours, and the Machs take over. I don’t want President Graves to be elected for life. But I also don’t want him dead.

I turn, leaning back against the vanity as I stare Hux down. “No, he didn’t agree to that. But there’s more at play here than you think.”

Hux eyes me, his eyebrow lifting. “Like what?”

Maybe telling him what Callum told me will buy us time. “He hinted that there are things that might come out. Bad things.”

Hux takes a measured step closer. “What kind of bad things?”

“I didn’t find out. But give me a chance to. Like you said: A ruined Graves is more useful than a dead one, right?”

Hux makes a show of looking down at his watch. From this angle, I can clearly see the mark on his face where I hit him—a purplish bruise blooms angrily under the scruff on his jaw. “Yes. Incriminating evidence? Great. And if you can figure it out... I’ll pivot. But in the meantime, the agreement still stands. Fifty hours.”

I push off the desk and move closer to him. “I’m working on it. And I’m close. I just told you—why are you being such a pain in the ass? Where’s theThank you, Ripley. This lead sounds so much better for the world, for democracy, and the state of my rapidly deteriorating soul.”

His eyes narrow as he cocks his head, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. I hate when he does this—when it’s like my anger amuses him.

I know I regretted the last time I slapped him. But it’s hard to remember why in moments like this.

“Should I make a list?” he retorts. “Once he’s elected, dirt won’t matter. SoI’mnot being a pain in the ass, the rapidly approaching death of the democracy is. I just told you. Youseem to have Callum wrapped around your finger. So... bat your eyelashes at him and find out what he has.”

“Bat my eyelashes?”I start, the rant ready on my tongue, but the breath catches in my throat when Hux closes the gap between us, leveling his chin at me in challenge as we stand toe-to-toe. The slight tang of his sweat mixes with the pop of mint gum he was chewing earlier, and it sparks a magnetic pull, dragging me farther toward him.

What is wrong with me? I can still feel Callum’s lips on my knuckles. I shouldn’t be shivering at the thought of touching Hux again.

At the thought of kissing him again.

At the memory of him shoving me against a wall, his body flush with mine.

He’s going to kill someone,I remind myself.He’s going to kill Callum’s father. Snap out of it.

“Did you forget the rest of your list?” I ask, embarrassed at how breathless I sound.

“Second,” he snaps, his voice barely a growl. “That soul you mention?” Now he lowers his face to mine, trying to catch the gaze I’ve fixed stubbornly on his collarbone. “It’s low on the list of priorities.”

Don’t look up at him. Don’t look up.

But sometimes, you just have to do it for the plot. Although, at this point, I’m fairly certain I’ve lost that.

Because I look up.

The green in his eyes seems darker in this light.

His eyes bounce between mine, and I know it’s my turn to say something. Anything.

“What ifIcare about your soul?” I ask, and the words catch in my throat, so sharp they burn.

But Hux only chuckles, his tongue slipping out to run over his bottom lip.

The air between us turns charged. I think if I took a step, it’d shock me. I’m scared to move.