Page 56 of Not on the Same Page

I narrow my eyes at my phone screen. “Maybe for you. I’m playing the long game.”

Ashton laughs sharply. “Whatever you have to tell yourself, Endersen.”

Shrugging and trying to affect as much of an air of nonchalance as I can, I say, “At least I don’t have to poach authors from other publishers to get off the ground.”

That mocking pout is back, but with a scolding air. “Right. The whole world is out to get you. Set it up that way now so if you fail, it won’t be your fault.” He looks upward, reconsidering. “Not a bad plan, actually.”

“That’s not what I’m doing because I won’t fail. I can guarantee you that.”

Ryan appears in my doorway, and I’ve never been so grateful to be interrupted in my life. He sees I’m talking to someone, waves, and turns to leave, but I wave him in.

“Look, Ashton, I have a meeting.” I muster up all the goodwill I can. “Best of luck to you.”

“Sure. Same,” he says and disconnects the call.

Ryan sits in one of the chairs facing my desk with a huff. “Ashton Cochran?”

“The one and only.”

He grimaces. “I never liked that guy. Couldn’t tell you why, though.”

I could give him plenty of reasons, but I simply say, “He almost signed Charles Hall this year.”

He makes a gagging noise in the back of his throat, and I have to smile at the dramatics. I truly think that if Ryan had a violent bone in his body, he would have punched Charles in the face when he found out Charles had publicly outed Scarlett’s new pen name for her comeback novel. Instead, he quietly ruined his chances at a deal with JMP and Anastasios. In many ways, that was probably more effective revenge.

“What did Ashton want?” Ryan leans back in his chair and crosses an ankle over his knee.

“To gloat, probably,” I grumble.

Ryan already knows about all of this publishing intrigue and how I’ve been losing writers. He was one of the first people I told of my suspicions with the hope that he had some idea about what to do. We both came up empty. If writers want to take new manuscripts elsewhere, there’s not much anyone can do to stop them aside from prove it’s enticing for them to circle back.

“Have you settled on a deal with Imani?” he asks.

I shake my head. I actually haven’t spoken with Trina since she dropped Robert and me at my condo about a week ago. As much as I wanted to drive straight to her place and bury myself inside her once Robert was settled, I resisted the urge. To no one’s surprise, she fit seamlessly with us at the restaurant. She’s always been able to mold herself to a wide variety of audiences. But I could tell she was uneasy. Her fingers would wiggle in her lap every so often, or she’d pinch the fabric of her skirt and rub it. Her smiles were bright, but not quite as wide as they usually are. She was guarded, and when we got out of her car, I think she was a little relieved.

The whole situation was so far outside of the spoken and unspoken boundaries we had originally set for our relationship that I can’t be surprised at how she reacted. I was stunned but so happy when she came up to my place and offered her help. But that doesn’t change the fact that we’ve crossed into personal territory we never meant to explore. So I made the executive decision to let her process everything in her own time. She’ll come to me when she’s ready.

But I miss her. Not just her body. Her. The boisterousness of her laughter, the strawberry scent of her hair, the way she makes everyone in the room feel smarter and more capable than they believe they are even as she works to get the offer she wants.

There’s no part of me that regrets opening up to her in a more personal way. In fact, I wish she’d do the same. But I don’t think I can ignore the fact that I’ve fallen for her at the worst possible time—just before we need to seriously negotiate a deal for my very first lead title as editorial director. Somehow, I’m going to have to pack these feelings away, which is getting harder and harder to do.

Ryan smirks. “Is Trina being difficult?”

“Still time to rephrase that question, Whitlock.” Trina’s voice carries down the hallway outside of my office and a moment later, she appears in the doorway.

My heart skips. She looks like she always does—her hair in messy waves to her shoulders, her white T-shirt knotted at her waist and her tiered, purple skirt brushing softly against her calves. She folds her arms across her chest and cocks her hip, pursing those raspberry lips in Ryan’s direction. Same sass, same confidence. And yet…different. I can’t put my finger on why.

She flicks her hazel eyes to me and her expression softens for a moment before she turns her attention back to Ryan. “Who’re you calling difficult?”

“Never you,” he jokes.

“Mm,” she hums. “I thought not. How’s Scarlett?” She comes fully into the room and takes the other seat next to him.

When he faces her, his entire expression has changed. His smile is proud, and his demeanor is more relaxed.

“She’s great. Everything is going really well, though I think she’s starting to get bored. She’s been writing a lot. She mentioned she was going to call you soon.”

Trina wiggles excitedly in her seat. “Good. I’d love to hear from her.” She shoots Ryan a serious look. “Not just about work.”