Page 19 of Daddy's Princess

Jeff continues his ridiculous pitch, trying to justify each and every image. The whole time Sugar is shaking her head as if she can’t believe the bullshit coming out of Jeff’s mouth either.

“As you can see, we are drawing the reader in by keeping the imagery familiar.”

At that, Sugar makes another little sound, and her shoulders shake as if she’s fighting laughter. I almost demand she turn around so I can see if she’s got a smile to match her suppressed laughter.

Jeff turns toward Sugar, giving her a nasty glare. A wave of possessive fury burns through my blood, and I find myself slamming my hands down on the table as I stand. Sugar gasps and jumps, probably thinking my reaction is to her. I meet her eyes, hoping she can read the silent apology in mine.

“Perhaps you should focus on your job, Mr. Thompson, and not what Miss Larson is doing.”

Sugar’s eyebrows raise, and she seems to deflate a little as she realizes she’s not the target of my ire.

“It would be easier to focus on my job if Miss Larson would spend more time doing her job refilling coffee instead of mocking the professionals.”

Sugar flinches at Jeff’s cruel words. Jeff Thompson is hammering his own nails in his coffin at this point. I know for damn sure he knows who she is and that she’s not just a coffee girl. Today may have been the first time I met her in a professional capacity, but he works closely with the interns.

Jeff straightens his tie and turns back to the storyboard projected on the screen across the room. “Take this image for example—”

“And what exactly is that an image of?” I interrupt.

“A cat,” Jeff answers proudly. He looks at me like he just got the answer right, and I’m about to hand out Scooby Snacks for good grades.

I pick up my copy of the story and start to read, “The fuzzy pink and purple fur of the naterwhal is soft and curly. Like lamb’s wool. Her nose twitches like a bunny as she sniffs the young girls’ fingertips before pressing against her hand, asking to be petted. As the girl pets the adorable beast, its stubby tail wriggles like an excited puppy.”

I look up at the image of the cat again. A black and white cat with a long curving tail. I look back to Jeff and can see Sugar just behind him looking up at the cat with amusement.

“Tell me what, exactly, a cat has to do with this scene in the book.”

Jeff opens and closes his mouth several times as if he realizes for the first time, I’m not buying his bullshit speech about a modern take on the fairytale. Sugar giggles at his obvious discomfort. No one dares to let their attention stray from me this time.

“You have forty-eight hours to fix this. My mother will be here in three days to see the progress. As you all know, the author is one that she discovered herself and has taken under her wing.”

Everyone in the room shifts uncomfortably in their seats again. No one wants to disappoint the belle of Titan-Rose publishing. My mother is a world-renowned children’s author. She helped make this company what it is today. Her creativity, combined with my father’s business sense, made them a powerhouse team.

“Now, get out of here and make magic, people!”

“‘It would take a miracle,’” Sugar murmurs under her breath as everyone makes a hasty retreat from my wrath.

When the last person leaves and the room is empty save for Sugar and myself, I ask, “Did you just quote The Princess Bride?”

Sugar jumps like I startled her. Maybe she thought I didn’t hear her, or perhaps she thought I left as well. Either way, I like that she’s on edge. I want her to be off-kilter around me. At least that response is genuine and not her denying what we both feel.

“Maybe,” she mumbles then turns back to her cleaning.

“Miss Larson,” I say firmly, wanting her attention on me and only me. She slowly turns until she’s facing me. I practically choke on the ‘good girl’ that wants to come out of my mouth. “Tell me your thoughts on the storyboards.”

She shrugs. “You already know they don’t match the storyline of the book. There’s no imagination to the pictures. Not that I’m surprised. Mr. Thompson is right about his artists being the best at what they do, they just aren’t the best at the kind of projects Titan-Rose is famous for.”

I raise an eyebrow for her bold words. “And why is that?”

She chews on her bottom lip as if she’s trying to weigh the pros and cons of speaking so candidly with the boss. She looks at the picture of the cat still projected on the wall. “One reason is that the artist who did the bulk of the work on this project is only here because he needs a full-time job to pay the bills while he works on his graphic novel. Which is going to be epic when it’s finished. Titan-Rose is just a place holder for him. He doesn’t have a passion for children’s fiction, nor the vision for what will inspire imagination in your readers.”

I look at her totally shocked that she knows something so vital about one of my illustrators that I was unaware of. “How do you know all that?”

She shrugs, and her cheeks turn pink again like she’s embarrassed about how she got the information. I’m busy imagining all the reasons she would have to be embarrassed, and all of them circle around an inappropriate relationship with a co-worker.

No, we don’t have a no fraternization policy. Still, any relationship she has with any man that’s not me is inappropriate. She might fight it, but she’s mine.

“I run a lot of errands between departments as an intern. And I’m an art student. I spend as much time in the design department as I’m able. I’ve talked to Barry several times. The better question is, why don’tyouknow that?”

---