The fantasy you imagine will soon be your fate.
My breath catches. That’s twice now the book has responded. That’s not typical; that’s paranormal. Which makes me wonder… Can my fantasy really come true again?
As I close the book, I have more questions… Is the diary capable of fulfilling emotional desires, not merely sexual ones? After all, I’ve asked for honesty, not pillow talk.
And since I’ve written in pen, I can’t erase the words. But honestly, I don’t want to. If this “fantasy” brings Caden ‘round so we can talk—and I can apologize—I’ll put the brakes on anything else until I’m certain our desires are mutual.
And if it doesn’t, then I’ll know.
The question is, how long will I have to wait?
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
After a basically sleepless night, I trudge into the office, lugging my briefcase in one hand and my extra-enormous coffee in the other.
It’s Wednesday. Technically, it’s the day before my next story is due to copy editing. Bloody hell, I haven’t even started the piece. I’m waiting on Caden.
Will the magical book work again?
“Morning, Syd!” Holly pops her head in my office, blond curls framing her face in a way other women pay hundreds of pounds to reproduce, her cupid’s bow mouth painted an eye-catching red.
“Morning, Holly.”
“You look like shit. Sleep more. If you’re losing some over Caden’s sacking, problem solved. Meet Zain Denzell.”
As if Caden could be replaced with just any warm body…
When Holly steps back, a man edges forward—tall, lanky, and scruffy. Zain isn’t as easy on the eyes as my last photographer, but that’s probably a good thing. He sports inky black hair, a scraggly goatee, a crooked nose, and an office-inappropriate T-shirt that saysWanted: Meaningful overnight relationship.
But his eyes grab my attention. They don’t seem to be any particular color, just a murky…gray? Brown? Hard to tell. But they’re sharp and dissecting. Zain is used to people underestimating him, and he prefers it that way, I suspect.
“Hello.” I round my desk and stick out my hand.
Zain approaches, something between a walk and a swagger, then takes my hand. He’s not a big man, but his presence is huge. Something about him prods my gut to be cautious.
Or maybe I’m just gun-shy after Caden.
“How do you do?” he says with a nod. “Pleasure.”
I can’t say the same. Zain’s deference seems a bit too practiced. “How do you do?”
He grimaces. “Too awkward? Sorry. I’m a loner. Not used to mingling with others, especially before noon.”
Holly claps her hands. “Great, now that the introductions are over, you two should spend thirty seconds forming a meaningful work bond, then start making me money.”
With that cheerful demand, Holly leaves, shutting the door behind her. I roll my eyes, and Zain laughs.
“Is she always that…”
“Brash? Absolutely. If you hear people talk about Cruella, you know who they mean.”
Zain rubs his hands together. “We still have a few moments; tell me about you.”
I perch myself on the edge of my desk. “I’m a reporter with deadlines who doesn’t have time for crap. You may not believe my stories. If that’s the case, I don’t want to hear it.”
“No. I believe. Especially the magical war story.”