I never thought about what women really wanted. I mean, sure, I sold it for a living—confidence, desire, the fantasy of being chosen. But understanding? That was never part of the game.

Then came the shock. Literally. One minute I’m shaving in my Chicago high-rise, the next I’m on the floor, tingling from head to toe, and suddenly I can hear my assistant thinking, God, he’s such an ass, but damn, that suit fits well.

At first, I thought I was losing it. Then I realized—I wasn’t hearing voices. I was hearing truth.

Now, standing outside Darcy McGuire’s office, I hesitate. She’s brilliant, beautiful, and completely immune to my charm. And right now, her thoughts are crystal clear: If he tries that smirk on me again, I’m throwing coffee in his face.

But beneath that, there’s something else—something softer. Something that makes my chest tighten.

I take a breath. Do I play it cool like always? Do I try to win her over with the old tricks? Or do I finally say something real?