Page 84 of A Billion Dollar Romance
Edie, naked save for her high heels, her neck bared, head tipped back against the bookshelves in my home office. “This is your classic car collection?”
I read the rest of the page, and then the next, the chapter, my eyes snagging on familiar phrases.
This was not the ghostwritten manuscript.
I flipped to the title page.
Title TBD.
Penelope Portland.
Penelope.
This was Edie’s book.
This was what she’d been working on, canceling dates over. I flipped to another random section.
By the time I reached the executive floor, Alice was gone. She didn’t have to see my stony face as I let myself into my office.
I threw the manuscript down on the desktop.
I picked up the phone, dialing the number I knew by heart.
“What do you want?” said a woman’s voice.
“We need to talk.”
CHAPTER41
Edie
Tomorrow came,and the next day, then the next, until I’d run out of dukes not named James and moved on to the stack of paranormal romances I’d discovered in a closet, stuffed full of Ryders and Jaxons and Greys.Not a James to be found.I’d cooked myself several elaborate meals, then decided the washing up was too much trouble and switched to eating cereal and sandwiches. Salads, so I didn’t get scurvy, or whatever. Taking afternoon naps.
I’d written nothing.
I woke up disoriented in the gloom of twilight, having slept too hard and too long. My bathrobe had come half undone where I lay on top of the soft comforter, and the climate-controlled air of the cabin made me shiver.Thank goodness I’m not in an unheated wilderness cabin,I thought, rubbing my eyes to clear the bleariness,I would be dead of exposure already and it’s only been a week.
Beep.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand where it had been practically since I arrived, swiping the screen unlocked to turn off whatever notification I’d missed. It wouldn’t be important; my boss knew I was out of office. James had taken care of it, like hetook care ofeverything, by waving his little CEO magic wand and wishing it to be so.
Missed call,the screen read.Samantha Scott.
What was Sam doing calling me? But then–I’d been screening James’s calls and emails.
What if something was really wrong?
I dialed the number in the voicemail–Sam’s number–with shaking hands, my throat tight as the dial tone sounded.What time is it?I suddenly wondered, but I didn’t have time to check before I heard the click of the phone being answered, and then Sam’s clear-toned voice on the other end of the line.
“Edie,” she said, cool and professional.
“Is everything alright?” I asked. “Is James okay?”
“What?” Sam asked. “He’s fine. Why?”
The tension left me in a rush, and I suddenly felt silly.He’s fine.“Nothing. Never mind. What–” I had almost saidwhat’s up?and Sam wasn’t the kind of person you saidwhat’s up?to.
“I’ll get straight to the point. Let me rep your book.”
