Gianna itched to move away from the sofa she shared with Zane as the interviewer blabbered on about this and that, her voice filling the studio with unnecessary commentary.
She questioned Zane about the recent conversations surrounding the supposed decline of his company, about market whispers and public opinion, and then—inevitably—about whether it was karma for the ill he had committed against Gianna.
Gianna thought the woman's words were harsh. The tone, even harsher.
There was something faintly accusatory beneath the polished cadence, something that bordered on satisfaction. But she didn't particularly care.
As far as Gianna was concerned, she had already done enough.
She had agreed to the charade. Agreed to sit on the same sofa as Zane, close enough that their thighs were almost touching, close enough to feel the warmth of his presence without looking at him.
