Page 19 of The Opposite of Romance
“Well, you know me. That’s the life of a serious author.” Todd is a jerk. And an author. Also, a jerk. He had it out for me ever since I began coming to these things, but I’m not the only one.
“Yeah, and how many National Writing Awards does the serious author have?” Sandy butts in, making his head pull back.
“Oh, the sister’s here, too. How nice. I guess it isn’t easy finding a date as a spinster.” His shoulders slump in another show of fake empathy.
“Good luck tonight, Todd! Oh wait, you’re not nominated,” Sandy exclaims and pulls me away.
I’m not nominated this year either, but I won two years ago in the contemporary romance category.
She finds us a refill on the champagne and downs half of the glass. “That’s it for me. Got to keep these babies nice and sober.” She motions to her breasts, making me laugh. “But how about that enemies to lovers trope, huh?” She nudges my shoulder with hers and I almost choke on my drink.
“Excuse me? You hate him.Ihate him.”
“Duh. That’s why it’s called enemies to lovers.”
“You can’t be serious.” I roll my eyes. “That asshole thinks romance writers are boneheads. Everyone who reads romance is a bonehead. Or better yet, all women are boneheads.”
I’m pissed, but she laughs in my face. “Give me some credit,Sades. Chauvinistic pigs don’t have a place on my list, even if they fit eight other tropes.”
“Good.” I exhale, downing the rest of my drink. “Let’s find our seats.”
We’re seated at a round table with six other people. Most of them are familiar, except for one guy in his late forties sitting across from me. He exudes power in an immaculate tux, his wide shoulders wearing the shit out of it. His hair is salt and pepper, perfectly styled to showcase his model-like bone structure. He’s George Clooney in his prime, and my eyes can’t help but wander to him every few minutes.
It doesn’t help that every time I sneak a peek, he’s looking right back, his eyes grazing appreciatively over me. I try to focus on the speech and clap when it’s warranted, but it gets harder to concentrate as a certain level of excitement blooms inside of me.
My breasts grow heavier and my nipples pucker. I’m sure my skin is flushed, and it doesn’t take long for Sandy to notice.
“You good?” she asks.
“Yup.” I give her a wide smile, trying to use telekinesis to relate the message to her.
“You look weird. Do you need to throw up?”
I pinch her thigh, and she hisses. Picking up my phone, I shoot her a quick text.
Me
The guy across from me. He’s kind of hot. And staring.
Sandy
Oh.
OH.
There was no need for her to text that, because her face said it all. But suddenly, her face transforms into a huge smile, one that screams danger for me.
Once the award ceremony’s first part concludes, most of the people leave our table, including the silver fox across from me.
Sandy turns to me, whisper-yelling, “Do you know who that is?” I shake my head. “I heard them before. That’s Leo Sterling. The CEO of Sterling Publishing.”
“What? But I never saw him before.”
“Yup. Rumors say that he’s notoriously private. Usually, he sends other people to these things. God knows why he’s here today.”
Leo returns to the table, whispering something to the man next to him. The man leaves, and Leo drops into the chair next to mine.
“Umm, I think I’m going to go check on Liam and Stella.” Sandy sounds flustered, but she grabs her clutch and gets up.
