The last few times Sydney and Julian met had been strictly professional—formal meetings, nothing more. But on the night before the press conference, her phone lit up with his name.She had just stepped out of the shower, her voice still warm with steam. "Hello?""Just got out of the shower?"Outside, beneath a streetlamp, Julian leaned against the post, gazing up at the glow from her window."You haven't dried your hair yet, have you?" His voice was low and even.Before she could answer, he said it as if he already knew.Sydney couldn't tell when he had learned her habits so well. Rubbing her damp hair with a towel, she muttered, "Not yet.""Then dry it." His magnetic tone carried through the receiver, settling against her ear.She didn't want to."Then I'll go to dry my hair. Hanging up now," she said quickly."Don't hang up." Each word from his side was quiet but firm, leaving no room to refuse. "Dry it. I'll listen."Bound by the heavy penalty clause in their agreement, S
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