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“But I don’t know, Amalia. Is that guy really capable of writing anything decent?”
Holy shit. He really does hate him.
This might be hopeless.
I shrug. “All I can tell you is what I’ve seen. You’re the book critic and will judge for yourself. You know what to look for in good literature. I’m just the amateur.”
He beams, confirming he’s not above flattery.
No big surprise there.
“Tell me, Julius. What is it about Levi Maverick that bugs you so much? It seems like it’s more than just his writing.”
He looks at me suspiciously. Shit. Have I gone too far?
I shrug one shoulder and laugh. “Just wondering. I mean, he does seem a little… stuck on himself.”
I’m such a freaking phony.
He moves closer, like someone might be listening. Which no one is. “I went to college with him.”
Oh my. Story time.
I grab his arm. “No kidding. I did not know that.”
He nods. “He was super popular. Always had the pretty girlfriend. You know, the cool guy on campus.”
Let me guess. He was everything Julius was not.
I didn’t need to hear that to figure this shit out.
“I see.” I sigh. “But I have to ask, Julius, are your personal feelings getting in the way of being objective about his writing? Book critics are supposed to be objective, right?”
He frowns. Just like a guy, can’t stand being questioned.
“Holding something personal against him sounds kind of… petty to me.”
Julius’s head snaps back on his neck.
Damn. Did I just blow it, all my goodwill?
“Sounds like he’s got you snowed like everyone else,” he snips.
Oh for chrissakes.
“He’s got you sucked in like everybody else,” he says with distaste.
I slap my hand on the table. “That is not true, Julius. You are being so unfair.”
It was only a couple weeks ago when I thought Levi was a jerk too. So to say I’ve been snowed by him, even if Ihavebeen naked with him, is BS.
Not that Julius will ever know.
I sigh with indignation. “Julius, I wanted to share some information with you. But if you don’t care, if you don’t want to know what I’m seeing at the office, well, I won’t bother you with it.”
I grab my purse like I’m going to leave.
“Wait. No. Don’t leave. Sorry, Amalia. We need to stick together, right?”
