Page 17 of All Jacked Up

“I wasn’t the one who was rude. But if you hadn’t been drooling all over Opal Carver, then you’d have noticed that,” I shot back at him.

He stopped walking and turned to look at me. “What? Are you serious?”

I stood there and placed a hand on my hip, then did a quick peek at my phone to see if Ransom had responded or not to my text. He hadn’t.

“Very,” I replied.

“She’s an author that I’m working with, Noa.”

I nodded. “I’m well aware of that.”

“Then you understand that this is important for my career, and you walking out like a spoiled diva who wasn’t getting enough attention didn’t help.”

A what? Was he serious?

“I don’t …” I paused. “I’m not sure what to say to that.”

He threw up his hands in exasperation. “Well, you need to say something. Because tonight made me question a lot of thingsabout you.”

I nodded. “Yeah, same with me. I think it’s best if you get your own room for the night.”

He pointed at his chest. “ME? You’re kicking me out of a suite that I booked? If you have an issue, then you can get another room.”

Normally, I would do exactly that. The Noa I had been would have cowered, apologized, taken her things, and walked away, dejected. But, dammit, after being treated like I had from Ransom and his sister tonight, I was done being a doormat. My chest hurt, and it had nothing to do with Arden. He was just an added annoyance.

“Was this room booked with your card or the business card?” I asked, straightening my shoulders as I challenged him. I’d never done this before.

His brows drew together in confusion. Yeah, well, I was surprising myself too.

“Why does that matter?” he countered.

Don’t back down now, Noa.

My heart was racing in my chest as I stared back at him. I was pretty sure I might be on the verge of an anxiety attack.

“Oh, well, I don’t know. But I’m sure when I speak with Dawson about my having to get my own room and you staying in the suite, he’ll find that … interesting.”

I watched as his eyes narrowed. He didn’t like being threatened. I wasn’t one to threaten people. Dawson Diaglo, the publisher at Wilson Roe Publishing and his boss, was one hell of a threat. Especially for it to be the first one I’d ever thrown out.

“You’re threatening me with my boss?” he asked.

“It’s not a threat,” I replied, but it was. And I knew I’d never go through with it.

He said nothing for several moments, then turned and headed for the bedroom. I wasn’t sure what he was doing in there,but from the slamming around, I assumed he was packing his things. I hadn’t wanted to even come on this trip. I was in the middle of a manuscript. He’d made it sound like a romantic getaway, then turned it into a business trip once we arrived.

When he came walking out with his suitcase, I wasn’t sure if this meant he was getting another room or leaving altogether.

“I think we need some space,” he said, stopping when he reached me. “I’ll need your first twenty-five thousand words by next Wednesday. I want to read over it and make sure it’s going to meet expectations.”

And there was his casual threat. He wanted to remind me that he edited my work.

“Okay.”

When I didn’t say more, he continued on toward the door. I waited until I heard it close behind him before blowing out a breath and walking over to sink onto the sofa. This night just seemed to get worse by the second.

The sound of a new text broke the silence, and I stared straight ahead, not sure if I wanted to read it or not. When Ransom had texted me, asking what I was up to, I had tried hard to ignore it, and then I’d given in and shot him back a response. At least it had been short and not at all like my normal responses.

My curiosity at his reaction to my simple reply of,Work, got the better of me, and I picked up my phone and opened the screen to read his response.

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