Page 8 of Our Little Cliche
This is our go big or go home, Cyrus. Let’s get that six figure bank roll!
Regards,
Quinn.
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Words fail to form as I make sure I read the email right. 200 tickets for the book launch, yep got that part. Media presence, yep, cool no worries. Graham leaving, yep, sure. Easy. And?—
An employee.
A live-in… employee.
I’m sorry, what?
I rub my forehead, not that it helps with the overwhelming sensations flooding my brain. Tugging my hands behind my head with a triumphant blow of air, I flop back in my chair. This is crazy. Someone will live inmyhouse?
My house.
I’ve been alone since my father died a couple years back, it’s not been the same without him, or my grandfather. I’m where I am today because of pop. He wrote three hundred books in his time, and damn he would be proud of me if he saw me now. He left my dad the manor before he passed, and now passed down to me.
After a moment of sitting in silence, staring at my screen, doubt settles in. What if I don’t like their cooking? What if they have dirty habits? What if they use all the hot water? What if?—
It’s for a bestselling title, Stone… let’s do this.
—————————
From:[email protected]
Date:12/1/25
Time:10.34 A.M
Subject:Big News
I’m in. Let’s fucking do this, and do it good.
—————————
From:[email protected]
Date:12/1/25
Time:10.35 A.M
Subject:Big News
See you Friday.
Well done, Stone.
Quinn.
Chapter Four
