Page 79 of Our Little Cliche
“Good. Good. If anything changes, you’ll let me know, yes? I want you both sweating over this next release. I don’t want a single error. We’re so close to that leader board.” He shoves his finger in my face, waving it around. “Ah, can you imagine Riverton House Publishing on the New York Times bestseller list? We’ll get better writers in, and more sales. It’ll be great.”
Of course. Money, money, money.
“I can see it.”
Holly returns with our coffees. “Thank you, a—”angel, I almost slip up, “aaand look at the display, what do you think?”Smooth recovery, Stone.She makes a few minor adjustments, stacking the books in a much nicer way than I had them.
“Better. There’s only three minutes until doors open, are we all ready?”
“Yes. Pen and books are ready.”
“Where should I stand?”
“Stand back here out of his way,” Quinn cuts in. “Then you can pass him the books out of the boxes instead of disorganizing the nice table he’s set up,” he adds. Holly’s eyes weaken slightly, and I know she hates this just as much as me.
Damn how intensely I am going to kiss those damn lips as an apology later.
“That’ll work, then I’ll sign them, and Quinn maybe you can take payment while she puts the books in these little gift bags,” I hate thebossytone rolling off my tongue ordering her around, but I have no choice.
“You’re right to take photos?” Quinn asks her.
“Photos?”
“Yeah, the ladies go crazy for pictures with him.”
The horrid thought of taking photos with random women slithers under my skin… My readers always ask for photos with me, and I usually don’t oppose the idea, however, I couldn’t think of anything worse. There’s only one woman I want to stand beside, taking photos, smiling for the world to see… and that is my Holly Cate.
Chapter Forty-One
HOLLY
I swearto the unholy or whoever lives upstairs that if I see one more sheila fanning her face meeting Cyrus, I’m going to blow my cover. I’m not the jealous type by any stretch… but seriouslyget a bloody grip. These women are quite literally throwing themselves at him as if they have no morals.
I mean, what did I expect? Look at him… it’s hard to not have the thought of lathering yourself up in butter and slapping yourself onto a silver platter to serve him. Everything about him makes you want to throw yourself onto him… I know I do, even right now.
But it’s not just his looks,even though he’s painfully delicious to look at. I see way past that, unlike these girls. It’s the way his eyes glow when he talks about his writing. The way he fidgets with that damn pen whenever someone asks about his next work in progress—the one onlyIknow about, beyond what anyone else ever will. The way his stubble sounds when he caresses it in deep thought.
…Yeah.
All of that, ismine.
I smile myfakestof smiles, pretending to be just a meaningless personal assistant for Mr. Stone, packing signed books and merchandise into the gift bags and handing them to the needy littlehorn bagsthe same way I’ve been doing for the past five hours. Just like I’ve been purposefully altering the image quality when taking photos of them withmy man.
Fuck these bitc?—
“Here you go…Lisa,”I almost snarl, intentionally addressing her name wrong as I hand over her book to break up her grip around Cyrus’s waist. She’s been lingering for long enough, taking a million and one selfies with him and it’s making my eye twitch.
She ever so slightly pulls herself into his side a little closer, ignoring the bag of books I’m dangling in front of her, and curls her lips. “It’sTiffany.” And for reasons I don’t understand, her tone sizzles over my skin as if someone set it alight.
Is this bitch for fucking real right now?
No… I’m not thejealoustype.
I’mnot the jealous type.
I’mnotthe jealous type.
That’s right. I’m not jealous, I’m god damn territorial.
