Page 20 of Tempt the Boss

CHAPTER 8

ALI

After the meeting with Chris and Jenny, I had dinner with Darla so we could go over the edits together. My agent read over everything they gave me and the notes I took during our meeting. Darla agreed with their comments and told me to get started. She gave me a two-week deadline to do a preliminary rewrite of the manuscript.

My two weeks are up today, but I’m no further than I was when Chris and Jenny gave me the notes. Because there’s a saying that writers like to use about editing manuscripts: Don’t kill the darling. It just means that no one wants to delete the parts of their manuscript they’re attached to. I do like some of the things Chris and Jenny want me to change, but it’s making it difficult for me to get the manuscript right.

For example, there’s a section I really like where Sarah first realizes her dad is the serial killer plaguing their town. She has a short monologue, just two paragraphs, where she struggles with the fact that she knows her father is a horrible person, but she also still loves him. Sarah has to grapple with her mixed feelings. I love this point. Jenny and Chris thought it felt fake and forced. I agree with them in the placement, but I can’t figure out how to get rid of the paragraphs without losing the sentiment completely.

“Damnit,” I yell, tossing my laptop onto the couch. I’m not getting anywhere with this. I pick my phone up from the coffee table and scroll through my social media accounts. We officially announced the book deal last week, and I’ve gotten a lot of new followers since then. I try to respond to as many as I can, but it’s impossible to keep up with all of it. I type out a blanket “Thank you” to all my new followers and exit the app.

My fingers move on their own, opening up my contacts. Chris said I could call him if I had any trouble with the edits. I’m in borderline crisis mode right now, and I’m supposed to email Darla with my edits today, so she can give me notes before I turn in the new draft to Carmichael Publishing. What the hell. I’m drowning here, and need a life raft.

I hit the call button. It rings a few times, and I’m not sure he’s not going to answer. But then there’s a tell-tale click.

“Chris Carmichael,” that deep voice sounds.

“Hi, Chris. It’s Ali.”

“Oh. Hey, Ali,” he says. He sounds surprised but pleased. We haven’t spoken since the day we had lunch together in his office. “How are you?”

“I’m good. I’m just… I’m working on my rewrite and I’m having some trouble.”

He laughs gently. “Can’t kill your darlings?”

“It’s hard!” I exclaim. “It’s like putting a knife through your own children!”

He laughs with understanding.

“Do you want to come over and talk about it? I have some time this afternoon.”

I get up, stretching a bit. “Um. Oh well, I don’t want to take up your time. I know you’re busy.”

He chuckles.

“Ali, it’s okay. We want your book to be the best it can be. I’d be happy to help out if you’re struggling. Bring the section you want to work on and meet me in my office in an hour?”

Oh my god, that’s so soon! But immediately, I jump at the opportunity. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll see you then.”

“Perfect,” he says smoothly. “See you in a few.”

When we hang up, I head to my closet and search through my clothes like a madman, my heart pumping furiously. I consider putting on one of my fancier dresses reserved for city meetings, but that would seem like I’m trying too hard. Instead, I take my favorite blue blouse and slip it over my head. The sweetheart neckline makes my boobs look even bigger than they already are. I step into a black ruffled pencil skirt that hugs my wide hips. My breasts and hips are Chris’s favorite things to look at, so I want my outfit to draw attention to those features.

Taking a deep breath, I walk to the train station down the block from my apartment. The twenty-minute ride into the city is uneventful, and I get to Chris’s office less than an hour after hanging up. But as I walk towards his office, people give me looks. Sideways ones, accompanied by more than a few eyerolls. Oh god. They know. I try to ignore them, but my heart races. What if this ruins my fledgling career? And Chris’s career to boot?

Trevor lets me into Chris’ office, and I step in tentatively. The boss is on the phone, but he motions for me to sit, so I pull out the materials I brought to keep me company until he’s ready. Reading over the pages of my manuscript helps calm me down about the weird looks Chris’ employees were giving me. And once he hangs up, he gives me his full attention.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “My editors can be pretty needy.”

I shoot him a wobbily smile.

“No worries. Thanks for meeting with me.”

“Of course. So, what were you struggling with?”

The man is a picture of confidence, so I hand him the pages. He reads over the highlighted paragraphs and makes a couple of notes for me. “I can see your problem. We like what you’re saying here, but we don’t like how you’re saying it.”

“I know,” I sigh.

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