Page 1 of Promise Me Never

| Prologue |

She woke to darkness, the taste of metal on her tongue. She blinked, trying to get her bearings, but her thoughts were jumbled, confused, and her mind couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing. A basement. Dark. Gray cement floor. Where was she? She tried to stand but couldn’t move her arms. Coarse rope bit into her wrists.

“Hello?” her voice rasped. “Is anyone there?” Her words echoed in the empty space. Why was she tied up? Her heart hammered in her chest and sweat broke out on her forehead and upper lip. She struggled against the ropes, but that only made them tighten. Tears of frustration spilled onto her cheeks as she called out again. “Someone. Please, help me!”

She had to think! Taking a deep breath, she told herself not to panic. That was the first thing they’d taught her in her self-defense class. Panic is the enemy. Be calm. Strategic. Breathe, she reminded herself. Think. The last thing she could remember was sitting on the sofa with Bennett sipping wine, his hand caressing her face, telling her how much he loved her. So how had she ended up here?

The creak of a door stopped her thinking. Heavy footsteps drew her attention to the stairs.

“Hello?” she called again.

“Stop yelling.”

Confusion filled her. “Is this some sort of gag? Undo me! It’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

A flash of steel. Before she could answer, the knife came down, seemingly out of nowhere, and pierced her chest. White-hot pain. Agony. Then nothing.

| One |

Savannah

Before she ever shook Bennett Bryson’s hand, Savannah had already imagined the rest of their lives together.

She liked to think of herself as a woman who created her own destiny. Her parents had taught her little worth remembering, but one lesson had stuck. No one handed you anything. Your future was in your own hands. Choose a goal. Make a plan. Do the work. It was a creed she lived by.

All through school she had excelled at writing, garnering the praise of her English teachers. There was never any question in her mind that she would become an author. Books had been her escape for as long as she could remember, and she’d always thought there was no higher calling than to be the architect of that escape for others. What she didn’t know, what she couldn’t have known, was that the story that would define her life had already begun. But this time, she wasn’t the author.

Next week’s writers’ conference, the one she never missed, would be different. This year, Bennett Bryson was attending. And Bennett rarely made appearances anymore. His first book, Promise Me Never, had been a breakout success most could only dream of. The kind of lightning that never struck twice. So it was no surprise that his books following it sold well enough but nowhere near his first. Savannah was privy to his sales record since she worked at Margolis, Sutton & Klein, the prestigious literary agency that represented him.

She’d had her eye on the firm for a while. Four years at a smaller agency had taught her the ropes. She used that time to attend talks by authors her target agency represented, and when she finally landed an interview with Marion Sutton, Marion had been so impressed with her depth of knowledge that she hired her on the spot. Now, nine months later, she was one of Marion’s most trusted readers, the gatekeeper who decided which manuscripts made it to her desk. Savannah took that role seriously, knowing firsthand how crushing rejection could be. But it was also instructive. She was learning what made one submission shine while another fell flat. That knowledge would shape her next manuscript and get her the book deal she’d always dreamed of.

Marion was Bennett’s agent, which meant Savannah had even closer access to his career stats. Declining sales, even for a household name, were tolerated only so long in publishing. Bennett’s next book had to be a hit. Marion insisted he tour again and kick off the first week with an appearance at the conference. The conference director was so thrilled to add him to the roster that he gave Bennett the coveted headliner spot. That meant Bennett’s book would be bundled with the conference registration, guaranteeing him over two thousand sales for that appearance alone. Savannah had already offered to assist Marion with any agency-related work and would be helping to manage his book signing at the conference as well as at the bookstore the night before.

Savannah had devoured everything Bennett had ever written. She had watched his recorded talks online over and over. Those Paul Newman eyes seemed to look right through the camera as if he were seeing her alone. Women would be flocking around him next week. But Savannah would be right there, keeping the throngs at bay. Wouldn’t it be perfect if the two of them became a couple? He was single now. Recently widowed after a tragic accident took his wife. But he wouldn’t stay single for long. Why shouldn’t Savannah be next? She could see it already. The literary golden couple. They’d be the envy of the writing world. Attending conferences together. Giving talks. Maybe they would even start to co-write. They could spend their days working together and their evenings sipping wine by the fire. It would be an ideal life.

She made herself a cup of cinnamon tea and picked up Bennett’s new book. It had come out yesterday, but she’d saved it for tonight. Marion had given her an advance reader copy a few months ago, but Savannah liked to wait until the finished book came out before reading. She ran a hand over the red embossed cover and drank in the title, Don’t Ask If She’s Sorry, under which, in bold letters in larger type, was his name. She opened to the first page and read aloud, pretending that the words had been written for her alone.

| Two |

Savannah

Savannah took a sip from the glass of wine in front of her, wishing she were anywhere but here. Her friend Jessica had dragged her out for a celebratory birthday drink, insisting that it was criminal to spend her thirtieth birthday alone in her apartment. But all she wanted to do was pack and prepare herself for the writers’ conference she was leaving for in the morning. So she agreed to a quick drink, and they now sat at the bar down the street from her apartment. The music blared and the club scene was in full swing around them. She could feel a headache coming on.

“I think that guy is checking you out,” Jessica said, half shouting, inclining her head toward an average-looking guy at the end of the bar.

Savannah rolled her eyes and turned her back. “Not interested.”

Jessica shook her head. “You need to get back out there.”

It was easy for Jessica. Blond, built, and with a loyal boyfriend, she didn’t have to endure the misery of dating. She was in a committed relationship, probably weeks away from getting an engagement ring. Savannah was sick of waiting for Mr. Right.

“I thought I’d be married by now. Maybe even have a child. It’s just brutal. I can’t do the online thing anymore, and I’m definitely not interested in picking up someone in a bar.”

Jessica gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s rough. But someone’s out there for you. You just need to play things a little cooler. Not wear your heart on your sleeve so much. Guys scare easily. Did you read that book on dating that I gave you? My friend Veronica swears by it. She just got married.” She raised her eyebrows as if to say See, that could be you.

“I guess there’s a book for everything.” Savannah sighed. Deep down she knew her friend was right. She had no trouble attracting men. It was keeping them that was the problem. She didn’t see the point in playing hard to get or pretending to not be interested when she was. But clearly being up front and honest had gotten her nowhere. She was also starting to realize that she’d been wasting her time on the wrong type of men. Boys really, in their late twenties and early thirties, still chasing the thrill. Things were going to be different. She had a new plan. One that involved a mature man who’d already shown he could commit. Bennett was almost forty, had already been married, and was probably lonely and ready for the right woman to come along and fill the hole in his heart left by his late wife. If she had to play a few games to make him realize that woman was her, so be it.