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After another pause, CJ turns to me. "Wait a minute … I know you just said things were well, but please tell me you didn't go and mess things up with Abby. You did, didn't you? I knew it! I told you not to mix business and pleasure!"
"Wait a minute! Stop jumping to conclusions. That's not it at all. You've got it all wrong. Like I said, things are fine between Abby and I," I reply."I promise."
She looks me up and down, wondering whether or not she should believe me, but ultimately she does.
"So, what now? If you're so anti book writing, what would you like to do next?"
I pause for a moment. "I want to go back to doing what made me money in the first place … modeling," I say. It's the fucking truth.
"Seems to me that authoring brings in—" she begins to say, but I cut her off.
"Alright, alright—I'll think about it," I reply. "Does that make you happy?"
But she doesn't have to answer that question. The smile on her face speaks volumes.
"That's a smart call," she says. "I'm just looking out for you."
I stop the treadmill and walk off, grabbing a towel and dragging it across my forehead to wipe away some of the sweat. Then I grab my bottle of water and take a big swig. The chill of it refreshes me.
"Is that it for today?" I ask CJ. I'm hoping I can shower and get on with things. I promised to pick Abby up later in the day. We've made plans and I have a surprise for her this evening … a trip to one of the hottest clubs in the city: Python. I can't wait to see her reaction. I think she's gonna be pleasantly surprised.
"There is one more thing…" CJ says slowly.
The way she hedges makes me raise an eyebrow.
"Oh yeah?" I reply.
"I heard from Bad Boy Publishing," she continues, looking up at me to gauge my reaction.
Did she just say Bad Boy? Hearing the name of that publisher nearly makes my fucking heart skip a beat, and I fumble my water bottle, almost dropping it. Abby's told me all about them. What could they want with me? CJ can see the disbelief written across my face—probably the deep fucking crease across my forehead gives it away, and she continues.
"They're extending you a contract if you want it."
What? A fucking contract? From Bad Boy Publishing? That seems to be coming straight out of left field. For once, I'm speechless. I mean, really fucking speechless. I never could've predicted that.
"I know; crazy, right?" she says, reading the look on my face. "Bad Boy is the gold standard in terms of publishing books in the contemporary romance market. Everyone knows that. Seems to me like you're officially back on the map. You're catching the attention of some pretty big fish."
I still can't find the words to respond, so instead I just nod my head and pace the room.
CJ's right.
I'm back on the map alright, but who's attention have I really caught?
Is it a big fish, or a hungry shark?
Abby
Time to celebrate, I think to myself, my arms wrapped around Aidan’s torso as he zigzags through the evening New York traffic. The engine of his bike growls under me, louder and louder with each passing second, and I grab him tightly as we pick up speed.
Aidan’s taking me to Python, the renowned ‘pleasure club’, and I won’t lie: I’m a bit nervous. Still, after everything we’ve been through, that nervousness is barely noticeable; more than nervous, I’m excited to go there. The place where dreams come true, everyone says about Python, and I’m curious to find out how much of that is true. After what happened during the photo shoot with Mistress Strokes, I doubt anything can top that.
I mean, since I’ve met Aidan, I think I’ve probably done more growing up than I’ve ever done in my life.
This is like the damn sex talk that your parents have with you, only as an adult.
Why did no one ever tell me about these things?
Did you know? Did you know sex could feel so amazing?
