four.

Decisions were never my strong suit. When given two options, I usually chose the wrong thing. It was impressive, really. The amount of horrible decisions I had made.

Impulsivity was a problem for me, it seemed.

I told Irina to get rid of the pregnancy when she told me about it. Then married her when she decided not to. Then agreed to stay married for the sake of our children while she moved in with my former best friend.

All horrible decisions. All things I should have done the exact opposite of in the moment.

But the newest one to add to the list was the errant thought that floated through my mind as Serena waltzed into my office that maybe, it had just been too long. Maybe I just needed a release—given to me by someone other than myself—and I'd be able to look at my publicist without feeling like my heart was going to explode in my chest.

Serena could sense my hesitation as I led her to Bella's office to give her the NDA. It wasn't a fully formed decision in my mind when she pulled me into her and pressed her lips to mine.

And, honestly, it was probably the worst kiss of my life. And I had been a fumbling hormonal teenager at one point.

"Um, sorry. It's just that's my, uh, office."

Chest. Heart. Explosion.

All mixed in with a new overwhelming feeling of sadness as I looked into a pool of angry chocolate eyes.

I ran a nervous hand through my hair. "Serena was just dropping off the NDA you sent her."

Bella nodded. Took the folder. Thanked Serena. And stepped around us into her office.

The sound of the handle clicking into place was like a knife to the gut. And a slap to the face.

What the fuck was I doing?

Not with Serena. That was obvious. And not going to solve anything.

But what did I expect from Bella? Nothing. I knew she wasn't interested. My own fascination with her was bordering on obsessive and it wasn't fair. Christ, when had I become a horny old man?

Bella was a beautiful woman, but she was also a professional. I was the one constantly crossing the line, becoming too invested.

So, I stopped.

There was no more counting her freckles or trying extra hard at rehearsal to get her to laugh. No more family dinners or late night fantasies.

It was hell.

Because at some point, I stopped caring about the problems and the facts. When Bella berated the writing staff for nearly getting me fired with a joke about the network president's son, I had to accept that I liked her.

In a million different ways.

I wanted to be her friend, listen to her problems and be there for her if she got a flat tire or needed someone to make her chicken soup when she was sick. I wanted to be her client, because the woman was fierce. She knew what she was doing, and having her on my side was more comforting than I realized it would be. She was in my corner, fighting for me, and it wasn't just because it was her job. I hoped it wasn't. Because I also had to accept the fact that I wanted her. In my bed. In my arms. In my life in more than a professional capacity.

She made me smile whenever she was around. Even if she was being a grump or stressed or yelling at James, she made that long dead part of my soul flutter to life in my chest.