Page 37 of Under Their Protection

“No, if you refuse to talk or lose your temper it will look bad. It’s okay and normal to be traumatized after what they have done to you since before you were born.”

“I know. I’m going to get off here and update the two men staring holes into me,” I say.

“Okay,” she laughs. “You’ll have the information before you land.” We end the call and I rub my hands down my face. I tell Rowan and Max everything that Emma told me as well as the plan. Both of them look calm, which is comforting. If they aren’t panicking, I shouldn’t either.

“Thoughts?” I ask.

“Emma is very good at what she does. I am confident that everything will be okay,” Max says.

“I agree. I think it's a nuisance, but it’s nothing to worry about,” Rowan says.

I slip my earbuds in and lay my head back. I just want to drown out the world for a minute. I stay like this for the entire flight, because right after takeoff, I fell asleep. Rowan gently wakes me a few minutes before we land. Once we get our bags and get out of the airport, we take an Uber to the hotel. Conveniently enough, the conference is in the same hotel, so we won’t have to leave until we have to fly home.

The day speeds by once we get to the conference. Max comes with us, even though he is slightly out of his element. He has never seen the side of me that Rowan knows so well. I wouldn’t say I am a different person at work, I just sound much bubblier and less bratty. He seems to enjoy watching me as I work at pitching myself and the company.

I was born and raised in Georgia so if what I say doesn’t give that away, my Southern accent does. Being in New York instantly makes me sound like I just crawled out of the hollow. I get judged on my accent pretty quickly, but my sweet Southern charm draws them in for long enough that they realize that I am in factnota moron. I don’t know who started the rumor that Southerners are ignorant, but some of the smartest people I know are Southerners.

When we get done for the day, we go up to our room. I change into shorts and steal one of Max’s shirts before I dramatically throw myself onto the bed.

“How long until the meeting?” Rowan asks.

“Five minutes,” I mumble.

“Do you want us to go find something to do and give you space?” he asks.

“I’d prefer you guys stay. It will make me feel less alone,” I admit.

“Okay,” Rowan says sweetly before kissing me deeply. I whine when he pulls away.

“Get on your call and get this over with. After, we will order dinner and you can be the dessert,” Max says before pulling me back to lay on the bed as he kisses me.

“That’s the motivation I needed,” I say with a smile.

“Good. Get on your call, Nika,” he says as points to my laptop sitting on the coffee table in the sitting area of our hotel room.

“Ugh,” I complain. I get up and move to the couch, tucking my feet under me. I hesitate for a moment before clicking the link in my email. The screen spins for a second before the call comes tolife. I see a man in his mid-thirties. He has well-groomed black hair and a kind face. He notices that I have joined and smiles. Fuck, he’s hot too. Is everyone around Emma hot?

“Hi, Anika. I am Dr. Theo Dache, but just call me Theo. Emma said you are on a business trip?” he asks.

“Yeah. I am in New York for a writer's conference. My company goes every year since a number of our clients go. It gives us a chance to pitch the company and gain new clients,” I say.

“So, you are a publishing agent?”

“Yeah. I started at Genesis Press when I was eighteen. I started as an intern and was moved into a regular agent role after two years. I am the lead agent now. That’s why I travel,” I explain.

“And you travel with Rowan?” he asks.

“I do. I’ve been traveling with him for a little over three years now.”

“It sounds like you really like your job,” he says with a smile. I can see on his face that he is a digger. He is about to dig up everything I’ve been hiding in my mind.

“I do. College and work have always been my sanctuary,” I say.

“What did you go to college for?”

“I have a Bachelor's in English and a minor in psychology,” I say.

“So, you like to write?” he asks. I sigh and look at him for a second.

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