Page 62 of Bitter Confessions

When her spirits dipped, she distracted herself by switching to another social media platform. She scanned her notifications and let out a scream. The car swerved as Mo looked around for the threat. Johan wheeled around with a gun in his hand.

“What is it?” Mo rapped out.

“Johanna Ledger responded to my message,” she breathed.

“What?” Sarai shrieked, making both men clap a hand over their ears. She undid her seat belt and propped herself on the console so she could see Jasmine’s screen.

“Thank you, Thalia, for recommending my book to your audience and for your sweet message. I’ve been watching your come-up since you published your first book, Breaking Tradition. I can’t count how many times I’ve been told to read it. Before I start the sequel to BoD, I’ll pick it up. Thank you for your support, and if anything can be done about the censorship of BoD on certain retailers, I’ll let you know. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you as well. Nice to finally connect with you. —JL”

Jasmine stared uncomprehending at the message as Sarai gave her a little shake. “She knows who I am?”

“Of course she does! You’re famous!”

Johan, who was still turned in his seat with his pistol in hand, abruptly faced forward and muttered, “She’s crying.”

“I’m not,” she said as she swiped at a tear. “Oh my God, I’m going to freak out.”

“You want to tell us what’s going on?” Mo asked.

“My favorite author in the whole wide world just messaged me.”

Sarai plopped back in her seat. “This is turning out to be a wonderful day. Gah, I wish I could tell the discussion boards what just happened. Two of the greatest authors in the game finally collided. If you collaborate on something, I might die.”

Her freaking idol had just said her name. Well, her pen name, but a part of Jasmine still thought Thalia was the best version of herself—self-assured, positive, steadfast, kind, forgiving. In real life, she overanalyzed, wavered too much, and doubted herself more than she cared to admit.

She reread Johanna’s message again, feeling like her heart might burst. It was one thing to be acknowledged by readers, and quite another to be recognized by a peer, especially one of Johanna’s caliber. Till this day, she hadn’t met another writer in real life. She’d chatted casually with authors in her genre on social media but hadn’t developed any friendships, because she didn’t attend conferences that would take her beyond a name on a cover to a real human being. She’d declined invitations to book conferences because she couldn’t chance her pen name being connected to her family. She hadn’t regretted that decision until now. She wanted to go beyond the polite chit-chat and ask Johanna about her inspiration, her writing, and her advice for longevity in this industry. She wanted to ask if she?—

“We’re here.”

CHAPTER 13

She swiped at her eyes as Johan opened her door, taking his hand to step out of the car and flinching when the frigid air assaulted her bare legs. Instinctively, she leaned into him for protection and warmth before remembering where she was. She was in the freaking Financial District, which her family had dominated for three generations, and she’d just remarried the latest billionaire to take up residence. That was all she needed—to start rumors she was having an affair with her bodyguard. Roth would love that one.

She straightened and turned to look across the street at her father’s building. She shaded her eyes to look at the midsection where Hennessy headquarters was. She was sure Ariana was hard at work.

It had been four days since their disastrous Thanksgiving dinner. Rami, Lyle, and Colette had reached out to tell her they didn’t share Ariana’s sentiments, but the silence from her sister’s corner was deafening. Even though she told herself it didn’t matter, it still niggled at the back of her mind. Instead of rehearsing what she wanted to say to her sister, she lost herself in the fantastical waters of fiction. If the book wasn’t captivating enough to edge out her inner turmoil, she moved on.

“Don’t forget the cookies!” Sarai called as she rounded the car.

“Oh.” Jasmine hastily reopened the door to nab the package from the back seat, along with her phone, which she’d also forgotten. By the time she’d slipped her purse on her shoulder, Mo and Johan were on the sidewalk, while a member from her second team slipped into the driver’s seat of the Bentley. She opened her mouth to ask about the switch before realizing the second team would draw too much attention in their casual streetwear. Mo and Johan never missed a beat.

At this hour, the sidewalk was jam-packed with men in suits. For some reason, their little group was drawing quite a bit of attention. She wasn’t sure if it was the Bentley, the fact Mo and Johan were clearly her security, or if they recognized her. Sarai was impervious to the scrutiny and took a call as she led the way into the building.

“Yes, we’ll have to move that to the sixteenth. Can you fit us in for 3:15 p.m.? That would be ideal. Hmm. He has a two o’clock that should finish at 2:45 p.m. We may be cutting it too close. You can move Mr. Thompson’s appointment to accommodate us? I appreciate that. 3:15 p.m. on the sixteenth is the earliest Mr. Roth can meet with him, or else we’ll have to schedule after the New Year. Yes, I understand. I’m putting that in his calendar as we speak. Thanks, Lora. I’ll be in touch.” Sarai pressed the button for the elevator and took another call before the doors opened.

When they boarded the elevator, Mo and Johan gestured Jasmine into the corner. She obliged as almost a dozen men tried to take the same ride. As they neared the forty-fifth floor, Sarai finished her call. One of the men leaned over to murmur something to her. Sarai nodded and as the door opened, she said, “Email me. We’ll work it out.”

Mo ushered the men aside so she could pass.

“Isn’t she a Hennessy?” someone muttered.

“The youngest,” another answered.

“She’s with him again?”

“Announcement was in the papers a couple of weeks ago.”

“Funny, how he shows up after the old man dies...”

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