Page 24 of A Billion Dollar Romance
Did he?
“I still want to read it. I want what you told the jeweler to be true.”
“About critiquing my work?” I asked, my brows drawn together, and he nodded.
“Yes.” We walked in silence for a moment. He was listening to the birdsong, I was sure. I, on the other hand, was riffling through the catalog of unfinished writing I had on my harddrive, wondering which one was the least awful, which one was the closest to completion. Could I cancel on Flora and pull an all-nighter?
Not if I didn’t want to fall asleep in front of Margaret on Monday, and I knew I couldn’t. I needed to be polished and professional and perfect on Monday, because Monday I would be wearing this ring to the office. If I was yawning and exhausted, well… No one would assume it was because I had been up all nightwriting.
“Bring something on Monday,” he said at last. “And let’s go to lunch on Monday, too. I’m sure you’ll want a reprieve from prying eyes, and we’ll be public then, so…” He raised an eyebrow at me, smiling a bit sheepishly. “Is that alright with you, or would that be too much for day one?”
“No, lunch is fine,” I said. “Lunch is good.” It would save me from lunch with Margaret and Peter, at least.For one day.
CHAPTER13
James
Bridget and Lylewere waiting for me in my office Monday morning.
Actually, just outside. Alice’s doing, of course. The three of them weren’t socializing–Alice wasn’t like that with any of the other employees, as far as I knew. Alice sat upright in her chair, tapping away at her keyboard. Bridget and Lyle stood off to the side, fidgeting nervously.
“Good morning,” I said cheerfully, mostly to quell the nerves in my own stomach.
“Good morning, Mr. Martin,” Alice said. “Bridget and Lyle are here for you.”
I smiled.Obviously. “Thank you, Alice.” I pushed into my office, letting them trail in behind me.
“So,” I said, sitting down behind my desk. Lyle sat in one of the two chairs, but Bridget stood rigid behind the other one. “How are we doing?”
“Sir?” she asked.
“With the… talent search. Down in ghostwriting,” I prompted, and she nodded.
“We have one,” Lyle said. “It’s looking like it’ll be a team, actually: one woman doing the outlining, another doing the writing. That’s how they do it, apparently. Separate skills.”
I nodded. “And they understand the… delicacy of the project?”
“I have their NDAs for you, if you’d like to see them,” Bridget said, but I waved her away.
“You can send them to my inbox for records, but no, the lawyers will take care of that.”
“Of course, sir.”
I nodded. “Who will be the…” What was the phrase? “The…faceof the author? Who’ll do the readings, the events, I mean.”
“The writer. It’s only fair, sheisthe author, for the most part, at least. And she’s pretty enough.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I scowled, and Lyle just shrugged.
“It does,” Bridget said, “when you’re resting the weight of a billion-dollar company on her shoulders. Every little bit will count. If she’s pretty, they might give her top slot in the Books section ofThe Times, put her picture in. You never know.”
She had a point, much as I hated to admit it.
“But, sir, I wanted to confirm about the engagement–”
“It’s on,” I said simply. “The announcement should have gone out in yesterday’s paper.” The Sunday edition. “And she’ll be wearing my ring in the office this morning.”
“I don’t have a ring listed in my budget.” She frowned at her tablet.
