Page 43 of Not a Strong Enough Word

“I pushed for that deal,” I practically whisper, my words fighting their way out around a swell of emotion. “I thought more money would make it easier on you. You could hire someone to help, or…” I trail off and shrug. It doesn’t matter. “And now you’re here, having this meeting you shouldn’t need to have.” And meeting hulky men in the lobby and going to dinner with them later when she should be mine. But I don’t say that part aloud.

“More money always means more product,” she says simply. “I’m an investment. And now, I’m a risk. The only surprise here is how long it took Anastasios to meet with me, not that it’s happening at all.”

I shove my hands into my pockets. If I don’t, I won’t be able to resist folding her into my arms, smelling her hair, kissing her. “You are surprisingly well adjusted about all of this.”

She snickers and tosses her dark hair over her shoulder. “It helps that I’ve been taking my meds.” Pursing her lips, she adds, “I know what I did, Ryan. Walking away from that deal was my decision. Even at the time, I had a good understanding of the consequences. Publishing again was my decision, too. I knew what I’d have to overcome when I sent that manuscript to Trina, even if parts of it have been harder than I thought they would be. And even if I never expected you’d be part of it.”

“I can still find someone else to edit the next one or take over this one if you want,” I offer half-heartedly. We talked briefly about her directive to Trina to find a different editor, but she ultimately decided to stay with me. Though it was unclear if she actually wants me on the project or if she’s afraid of looking like she’s asking for too much on top of everything else.

She shakes her head but doesn’t say anything else.

“I don’t suppose I can talk you out of dinner with Charles tonight?”

She continues shaking her head, but her lips curl up into a wicked smile. I stifle my annoyance; I know her well enough to expect that the harder I push, the more she’ll want to see him. Spite has always been a pretty powerful motivator for Scarlett, as has pushing my buttons just enough to make me want her more. Though I can’t imagine wanting her more than I do right now as she challenges me with a light in her eyes I haven’t seen in a long time. Since before she left, I realize with a start. I only wish I had noticed the absence of it sooner.

Tipping her chin toward the elevator doors, she presses the button to open them and says, “Let’s get this over with.”

As she exits the elevator, I trail behind her like a dejected puppy, back to imagining her and Charles Hall tucked into a corner at a small, romantic table, sharing tapas and wine with her smiling at him the way she was in the lobby.

I shuffle a little faster to open the door to the conference room for her. It’s a smaller room than the one we were in the last time she was here. Anastasios is already there, waiting. He has a presence about him that makes it easy to see how he climbed the ranks in the publishing industry. At fifty-two years old, his dark hair is now more salt than pepper. He wears it long enough to dust over his ears, and there’s a notable shock of gray running from his right temple over his forehead. His beard has even more gray in it, adding to his distinguished air. He is slightly shorter than me, but he doesn’t exude any less power for it. He’s always dressed in a three-piece suit—today’s is a charcoal gray with a blue dress shirt that pokes out the top, unbuttoned at the neck. He never wears a tie. I think he wants to look more approachable, though that’s hard to do when he turns heads every time he enters a room.

Usually, he’s commanding but also comforting. He has solutions to problems and answers to questions, which is something everyone wants in a boss, especially in an industry that thrives on negotiations and deadlines. But the tense silence that reappeared between Scarlett and me when I asked her to cancel her date has put me so close to the edge that I know I’m not going to be in a good place during this meeting.

Luckily, I don’t have to do much. Anastasios stands immediately when we enter the room, and Scarlett turns on her charm. I’ve seen her do this before; it’s like a veil she puts on in meetings and interviews like this, all bright smiles and easy laughter.

“Scarlett,” Anastasios says warmly, taking her right hand in both of his. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” she replies.

He releases her and motions to the chairs placed around a round table. “Please, let’s sit.”

We do, and I catch Scarlett adjusting the fabric on her blue skirt in a motion that means she’s nervous. Anyone who doesn’t know her as well as I do would miss it, but I’m hyperaware of her every move. I have to actively resist covering her fidgeting hand with my own and telling her it’s going to be okay.

“Thank you for meeting with me today,” Anastasios says politely.

Scarlett clasps her hands together on top of the table, leaning forward on her elbows. “Of course. Let’s cut right to the chase, shall we? I know you’re worried about me and what happened last time, but I can assure you that will not happen again.”

Anastasios’s eyes widening slightly is his only tell that he’s surprised. I, on the other hand, gape at Scarlett. What is she doing?

Silence stretches for so long that I wonder if someone is going to explode, and I worry very much that it will be my boss. Hopefully, I’m not watching an oncoming train wreck as I bounce my gaze back and forth between the two of them.

Suddenly, he bursts into loud, deep laughter that shakes his whole body. “You sure know how to cut through the bullshit.”

Scarlett smiles wide, but the stiffness remains in her spine. “I won’t lie, sir. I’m nervous about why you called me in here, so I figured we should address the elephant in the room before we go any further.”

Anastasios dabs at the corners of his eyes, then leans back in his chair. There’s a mirth about him—just a little air, like he’s amused. “All right. I’ll bite. What happened five years ago, and why are you so sure it won’t happen again?”

“I can’t tell you everything.” Scarlett, however, is all seriousness. “Some of it was personal, and I owe a lot of people explanations that I haven’t had the chance to share yet. But the gist of it was that I burned out and broke down. The pressure of a grueling press tour, deadlines for edits and drafts stacked on top of one another, and more of each on the horizon had me asking some very serious questions about whether or not that was what I wanted my life to look like in the long run. The answer was no.”

“They offered you a seven-figure deal for three more books.” Anastasios cocks a bushy eyebrow. “You didn’t want a million dollars?”

“All due respect, that made it worse, sir.”

I recoil slightly at that, knowing the hand I had in making that deal for her. Scarlett very carefully does not look at me, though. It seems like she wants to, but she keeps her eyes trained on Anastasios.

“How so?” He pushes forward in his chair again, his lips flattened together.

“With more money comes more expectations,” she explains. “You and I both know they weren’t going to give me a million-dollar advance and then let me take time off to enjoy it.”