Page 4 of Mark my Words

“Let’s get going on that special errand,” he said—a little louder than his normal voice—before he looked over his shoulder and gave Carson a warning smile.

“Since when is coffee a special errand?” Carson asked as he tried to follow us.

“Take a hint, Carson.” Sam placed his arm around my waist and pushed me toward the elevators. “You’re out of line. Again.”

“Fine. I’ll come find you later, Kristi.” Carson winked before he turned, walking in the opposite direction.

Sam quietly urged me into the elevator, and then I rounded on him as soon as the doors were closed. “What the hell was that?”

“You’re welcome,” he told me, leaning against the wall and staring at his phone.

“I didn’t ask for your help. That twerp is one sexual harassment claim from getting my foot up his ass.”

“We both know that wouldn’t end well.” He raised an eyebrow, not looking up. Jerk couldn’t even be bothered to look at me. This dismissive nature was why I didn’t want to work with him. I grew up with arrogant assholes whose egos made him look mild in comparison, but I wasn’t about to put up with his shit either. Sam and I had the same job. He was my equal and wouldn’t get away with treating me like I wasn’t.

“Yeah. I might lose a shoe if it gets lodged up there,” I growled.

“Why must you always be so hostile?” His voice wasn’t accusing. It was simply curious—like he was trying to figure me out.

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” I replied defensively. I didn’t need to justify my actions or attitude to anyone, much less him or his dickhead of a boss.

“Well, I’m giving it,” he shrugged, glancing up in my direction.

“Seems like you MAST idiots are all for forcing your opinions on people today.”

He nodded, giving me a small smile before he pocketed his phone and finally looked into my eyes. His division of Vivid Words Publishing covered the Mystery/Action/Suspense/Thriller books. It was common to shorten his division to MAST. And it was likely also a comment on how tiny their employees’ masts must be. Adrian was the perfect poster child. Sam...well, the jury was still out on him. “So, I take it you’ve talked to Adrian this morning.”

“Unfortunately.”

He sighed, and I took the opportunity to lean into the elevator’s corner and pull my phone out. I had the usual messages from Isobel asking me to go through various manuscripts. At the bottom of the unread messages was the email from Adrian with Evan’s manuscript. Clicking on the link, the shared document on the central server opened up, and I scoffed as I noticed that I had read-only permissions.

“What?” Sam asked curiously as he looked over.

“The asshole has locked me out of commenting on or editing the manuscript.” I turned my phone for him to see.

“He wants any text edits to go through me first,” he replied. He didn’t have that usual cocky smirk Adrian loved giving everyone, but I still didn’t like that they seemed to think they were running the show on this one. “If you email me notes, I can look over them to see what changes need to be made.”

“God, he’s a jackass.”

“He’s only looking out for Evan.” Sam shrugged as he continued giving me that same slightly amused look. It irritated me that he wasn’t acting like an asshole. If he behaved like Adrian, then my anger was justified. But he didn’t seem bothered by my attitude.

“What exactly does he think I will do if I can mark up the digital copy? He does realize I’m a professional. This is my job,” I insisted.

“I don’t think he meant it as a slight. He thought it’d be easier to have controlled access. Less chance for error.”

“Whatever. I don’t make errors,” I growled, looking away from him. His eyebrows shot up, but he still wouldn’t look up to make eye contact with me.

The elevator stopped in the lobby, and I walked out without looking back. I continued to be frustrated by some of the men in this building. Boys club could be an understatement sometimes. They continued to think that romance authors needed a feminine touch, despite an increase in male writers.

Isobel was hard as nails and took shit from no one, which was the only reason she’d survived as long as she had in this world.

As I reached for the main door, a hand closed on the bar before I could push it.

“After you.” Sam smiled as he waved me through. Another thing I didn’t like about him. I was perfectly capable of opening a door, but he insisted on being overly polite. No one had manners that good, or maybe that was my cynical inner New Yorker talking.

“Why are you following me?” I narrowed my eyes at him as he fell into step a few paces behind me, heading in the same direction down the sidewalk.

“You think awfully highly of yourself, don’t you?” He chuckled at my drawn-out sigh, following me to the crosswalk at the nearest corner. When the signal changed, he was still only a few paces behind me, an annoying smile on his equally annoying handsome face.

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