I clenched my teeth beneath my smile, my jaw twitching. I needed to sign him, but I couldn’t let him see how badly. He was the kind of man who knew when he had the leverage, and I wasn’t going to be the idiot to tell him he could ask for just about anything and I’d give it to him. “Of course,” I said simply.
It took him a moment to look over the contract, but finally he put it down and looked across the desk at me. “This is a decent offer,” he told me.
My smile turned a little more genuine. “Of course. You’re not a first-time author, and there’s a high probability that your novel will sell very well here.”
“It will sell very well. No matter where I go.”
I kept my smile in place, though it felt brittle, and tried not to let him faze me. “However, our resources can get your work out to a lot more readers than the average Joe—even if your book will sell regardless.”
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs at the knees in an effort to appear cool and confident.
He silently considered me for a moment, then said, “I want full e-book rights. And I want input on the cover. The last place walked all over that cover, and all of a sudden there’s a dude with a gun like that’s all that matters.” He rolled his eyes in irritation. “And I retain the right to say no to any and all edits I disagree with.”
Is he out of his fucking mind? I can’t give him that!
But my expression didn’t change. I remained cool and calm, unflappable. This was about negotiating. It was only a preliminary meeting, and I wasn’t going to let his demands ruffle my feathers—no matter how much I needed this contract.
“S&W retains e-book publishing rights for five years, you can choose whatever cover you want, and we can negotiate on hard and soft edits,” I countered, keeping my voice firm but light. It was important not to go too hard with people, especially men, because they got offended when a woman was a shark. But if you were too soft, too sweet with them, they thought you couldn’t play hardball. It was a delicate balance, but I’d mastered it over the years.
Parker considered me from across the desk. He didn’t seem offended by my counteroffer, but he didn’t seem sold on it either. “One year e-book publishing rights, complete cover autonomy, and no drastic edits to the main premise or plot.”
Now we’re getting somewhere.
“How about you retain one year of free publishing e-book rights, then they revert back to us for the next five years? You can still have your cover—we’ll even offer an additional e-book cover to use for your independent publishing with only a minimal copyright agreement—and I agree to no drastic edits unless there is a significant plot hole, or something nefarious that goes against our publishing code. However, you agree to allow for basic changes, sentence edits—for the sake of clarity—and trust that I know grammar better than you do.”
He lifted an eyebrow at that last one, but I saw him grin slightly. “Do you?”
I nodded once. “I assure you, I do.”
He shrugged. “All right, I’ll take your word for that last one. I want exclusive movie and TV series rights,” he continued, jumping back into the negotiation.
I thought it over. Although that was a big one with the potential to make a lot of money, most authors weren’t interested in giving up those particular rights. It was where they stood to make the most money. Although S&W would love to get their hands on the movie rights for one of Parker’s books—the money to be made on that was a guaranteed gold mine—I hadn’t expected to even have them on the table. The e-book rights were the biggest thing. The market was shifting more toward the digital medium than the paperback, and it was cheaper to produce for us as well.
But I wasn’t going to just give Parker anything. I wanted him to work for it so he appreciated it more—and so he’d be more pliable when I threw another option at him.
“How about we retain the rights for making a movie for the first two years and—”
“No deal,” he said instantly, shaking his head. “I keep the movie rights or I walk right now.”
I sighed internally but didn’t show my annoyance at being cut off. “All right. But only if you agree to not sell the rights to a producer for the first two years. After that, we’ll look at sales again and work with you to determine the best time for a movie production.”
He considered that. “One year.”
I shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do; talk it over with my boss.”
He nodded, agreeing to the discussion and nothing more. I was about to bring the discussion back around to the e-book rights, but before I got the chance, his phone went off. He held up a single finger at me, indicating for me to wait, and then pulled out his phone. He checked the screen, then sighed.
“Sorry, I’m going to have to cut our meeting short,” he apologized. “This is important.”
I frowned just a little, the only indication that I wasn’t entirely happy with how things were going, but I recovered quickly. Standing, I reached across the table to shake his hand again. He grasped my hand firmly.
“Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Parker. Please, stop by my secretary’s desk so that you can schedule another meeting at your convenience.”
He smiled at me and nodded. “Will do. Thank you for your time, Ms. McKenna.”
As he turned and left, I stood there thinking, I really fucked this up, didn’t I?
Trent
I knew before I got the call from Callum that I wasn’t going to sign with S&W Publishing. Although the Marnie woman seemed like she had her shit together, I understood that S&W was the last place I wanted to be. Even if they met my every demand and paid me one hell of an advance, I wasn’t going to give in. It was a principle thing more than anything else.
So when Marnie told me to stop by her secretary’s desk and make an appointment for later, I was thinking about how I was absolutely not going to do that.
Then I walked past her desk and saw her sitting there.
Courtney Hughes.
I’d pictured a modelesque woman with fake tits and perfectly done makeup. What I got was a classy woman who probably didn’t come up to my damn elbows with deliberately 1940s curled hair and bright red, matte lipstick.
She wasn’t what I’d imagined, but she was twice as fucking sexy.
Beneath that pretty, perfectly modest dress she wore, I could see she had the curves of a goddess, and she had that soft tan that suggested she spent just a few minutes every day getting some sun.
Fucking sexy.
I smiled broadly as I approached her, propping my hip up on the edge of her desk. “Hey, there.”
She didn’t look up from her computer. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Please, call me Trent.” Or Malcom, I thought but definitely did not say.
That got her attention. She raised an eyebrow at me, slowly turning so that she was facing me with a blank, unimpressed expression. “Can I help you, sir?” she repeated deliberately.
I swallowed. Ooh, feisty. I like it. “I’m Trent Parker.”
“I know who you are, sir. I directed you to Ms. McKenna’s office, remember?”
I laughed lightly. “Yeah, good point. I just thought I could introduce myself officially.”
“Of course, sir. Good to meet you.”
She went back to typing on her computer.
I hadn’t been intending to set up another meeting. Seriously. I was just going to flirt a little bit, get her number, then pop out the door without another fucking to-do with the damn publisher. But now she wasn’t flirting back, like she was fucking immune to my charms, and I was wondering what the hell I’d done to offend her so.
“I…” I trailed off, no idea what to say to get this woman to open up to me. Damn, usually they just fall open—usually at the legs. “I was told to stop by and make a second appointment with you. Can you do that for me?”
She pursed those ruby-red lips together but sighed after a moment. “Of course, sir. What’s a good time for you?”
I smiled. “For you? Anytime is a good time.”
She raised an eyebrow at me, unimpressed. “I have a slot available next week in the morning. Ten o’clock.”
“Does that include coffee with you?”
“No,” she said flatly.
I almost laughed at how completely uninterested she was in me. I briefly considered telling her that I was the Malcom she spoke with over the phone and that she owed me a damn favor, but I quickly dismissed it. I wanted to save that little favor for later when it might do me more good.
I just need a little more time with her, get her to warm up to me,I thought.
“All right. Next week. Ten o’clock.”
“That’s Thursday. Don’t be late,” she told me, then typed something into her computer. Next she grabbed a card from the drawer in her desk—I saw pink sticky notes, gel pens, and something that looked like a pineapple bobblehead.
She quickly used one of her gel pens to scribble a quick note on the card, and then she handed it to me. I accepted it from her and used the opportunity to grab hold of her hand. Before she had the chance to jerk it free of my grip, I pressed my lips to her soft knuckles, kissing her hand softly.
She froze, caught off guard by that. “Uh…”
I grinned, releasing her hand. “It’s been my pleasure, Ms. Hughes.”
I walked away then, taking pleasure in the fact that I’d thrown her off like that. I decided that was how I would win her over. All I had to do was keep her on her toes.
This is going to be fun.
Chapter Six
Callum
I’d pulled out all the stops and used the limo to ambush Trent outside of S&W Publishing, their main Seattle office towering into the sky like some iron-and-glass monstrosity. They were new, they were modern, and they were greedy.
It pissed me the fuck off.
Impatiently, I waited in the back of the limo, tapping my shoes on the floor of the car, and peeked out the tinted windows every five goddamned seconds as I waited for that asshole.
I checked my wristwatch for the second time in two minutes and glanced at my phone again to see if he’d called or sent another message. Of course he hadn’t. The last one still said he was leaving a meeting and would meet me downstairs in a minute.
“Goddamnit, you asshole,” I muttered angrily to myself.
Finally, when I glanced up again, I saw him strolling out of S&W like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Well, I’m about to give him a fucking care, I thought angrily.
I popped open the door and called to him, “Get in already.” Then I scooted over across the seat to make room. After a moment, Trent slid in next to me. He was dressed in one of his nicer suits, complete with the purple tie he used to impress, and the whole thing pissed me off even more.
“Aren’t you all dolled up,” I grouched.
He grinned at me. “You like it? I’ll start wearing it more often for you, sweetheart.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, then cut through the bullshit. “What the fuck are you doing at S&W Publishing?”
His grin slid off his face like melted butter. He leaned back in the seat, putting his left arm along the back of the seat. Then he shrugged. “I told you, I was in a meeting. Which you rudely interrupted.”
“Should’ve turned off your phone, then,” I snapped angrily at him. “What the fuck?”
“What is your problem?”
“My problem is that you just went to another publishing house to discuss publishing your new book with them!” I couldn’t help how angry I was, even if I wanted to. Because it wasn’t just that he’d gone somewhere else to publish—he’d been doing that from the beginning, and we both agreed that it wasn’t a big deal. He wanted to break out on his own. I didn’t want to have to mix business with pleasure, or displeasure depending on how the friendship was swinging that week.
Trent looked over at me, his features serious. He was cool as a cucumber, which told me that he wasn’t kidding around. “Our relationship is purely platonic—and there’s no damn business involved. It’s always been that way, and that’s why it’s worked out.”
He paused for a long moment, possibly waiting for me to get mad enough for my fucking head to explode. Then he grinned, just a little, and said, “Besides, it’s important to keep my options open.”
That cheeky, fucking bastard, I thought.
Gritting my teeth, I tried hard to keep calm as I shot back, “Fine. Options, great, what the fuck ever. But did it have to be with S&W Publishing? The only company out there that’s owned by my ex-college piece-of-shit roommate? Seriously?”
Trent grimaced at that, for the first time since sliding into the limo with me looking slightly apologetic. “Yeah, sorry about that. But I got this call—”
I interrupted him. “I don’t care about any fucking call! Jesus, Trent! You could have gone anywhere. I’ll give you a list of ten different publishing houses right now that would treat you right. But you cannot choose S&W Publishing over Tarvish. Do you know what that’ll do to my reputation? ‘Best friend of Tarvish owner goes to rival company, S&W. Is Tarvish tanking?’”
Trent rolled his eyes at me. “You’re so dramatic. Tarvish is not going to tank just because I didn’t sign with you.”
“No. It’ll tank because I can’t even make a good enough deal to get my best friend to sign with me.”
I let those words sink in, desperately wanting him to understand that I didn’t care if he didn’t sign with me—so long as he didn’t sign with them.
Finally, Trent sighed. “Look, you know the deal,” he began, turning in his seat slightly to better face me. “This is a friendship, not a business relationship. What I’m working on with S&W is business.” He paused there, making a face like maybe he wasn’t sure that was a hundred percent true, and suddenly I was wondering if there was something else going on that he wasn’t telling me. But he continued before I could press it. “These are two different things. You want this to be business? You’d better do it right.”
I stared at him like he’d just grown a second head. I wanted to tell him he was such an ass for making this into a formal thing, especially when I didn’t even give a damn about fucking signing him! I just didn’t want him to sign with S&W.
But he’d made himself pretty damn clear on the whole thing. If I wanted to get Trent away from S&W, then I was going to have to pitch him a deal—and it had better be a doozy.
Groaning, I slumped back in my seat. “Fine, you asshole.”
He grinned at me, enjoying his small victory.
“We’ll do brunch. Next Thursday.”
“Perfect,” he agreed and I had the limo drive him home. I spent the entire time wanting to smack that canary-eating grin right off his smug face.
Bastard.
Chapter Seven
Marnie
A week after my initial meeting with Trent Parker, I found myself sitting in my office trying to balance a pencil on my nose. I was supposed to be in a meeting with the aforementioned Mr. Parker, but instead all I was doing was leaving graphite stains on my nose.
He was almost an hour late, and with a sigh, I had to finally accept that I’d been stood up.
Funny, getting stood up doesn’t feel any better in a business scenario than it does in a relationship one.
After one last failed attempt at balancing my pencil on my nose, I tossed it aside and stood. Maybe I’d gotten the time or the date wrong. Maybe there had been a message for me about him being late or canceling or rescheduling. Maybe there was one goddamned mothereffing reason for why he was not here right this damn second.
Shoving the door open, I found Courtney at her desk. She was typing away rapidly at her keyboard, not even so much as glancing up at me. That was how she was. Focused, hard-working, she often ignored you if she deemed you unworthy of her attention in that exact moment.
“What. The. Ever-loving. Hell?” I demanded, coming to stand right in front of her desk, my hands on my full hips.
“What the hell what?” she repeated back to me, still not glancing up from her keyboard. She was one hell of a typist.
“Where is he? I mean, he made a damn appointment, right?”
Some part of me knew that I was being a royal bitch to Courtney and she likely didn’t deserve it, but I couldn’t help it. This was the biggest deal of my life and if I didn’t make it stick, then I could wave that pretty little promotion goodbye. And when you waved one promotion goodbye, it was like a death sentence. Suddenly, people like Gary down the hall were getting your new clients. And Gary was being told what a go-getter he was. And Gary was getting that fucking beautiful corner office that had my goddamned mothereffing name on it!
So, yes, I was being a little bitchy.
Finally, Courtney paused in her writing and shifted to look at me. She frowned a little, considering me for a moment. Finally, she held up a single finger and said, “First, stop being a dick to me. I haven’t done anything wrong.” Putting up a second finger, she added, “Second, I don’t know what the hell is going on. Mr. Parker stopped at my desk after your meeting, and we set up an appointment. I told him ten on Thursday—the following week, meaning the meeting was set for today. I even wrote him a stupid little reminder card just in case he was too much of a prick to remember important dates on his own.” She held up a third finger. “Finally, he’s fucking sexy—did you see that man? But he’s a cocky prick, and I didn’t succumb to his charm.”
My shoulders slumped at this information—well, the part about him stopping by to make the appointment, not the him being sexy bit. I hadn’t realized how much I was hoping that we’d just messed something clerical up until she’d confirmed that we hadn’t.
Which I knew. Courtney doesn’t make mistakes.
“Damn it,” I muttered. “Sorry, Court. I’d really been hoping—”
“That you could throw me under the bus?” she said, leaning back in her chair. Today she was wearing burgundy, which went well with her blonde hair, the contrast making her lips and eyes pop. Her heels were taller than mine, I knew, and she still only came up to my shoulders when we were standing side by side, but she pulled the whole thing off well.
Sighing, I shrugged a little and offered an apologetic smile. “I’m a dick.”
She waited a beat, then said, “Yeah, you are. But I know how much you want this contract.”
I sat on the edge of her desk as I groaned. “No shit. This would be it for me, you know? A corner office. Partner. I mean, that is the fucking dream, right?”
Courtney nodded. “Yeah, it is. For you, anyway.”
“I really am sorry. I should’ve known you didn’t fuck up. You never do.”
“No, I really don’t,” she confirmed, patting her curls. Today her hair was mostly up, rolled along the bottom so that it sat in a single thick curl at the base of her neck. “What are we gonna do about our no-show?”
Sighing, I considered my options. I could just give up and let him swim away to somewhere else, which would mean losing my partnership and everything I’d worked for. Option number two was to beg him to come back by giving him everything he wanted, which wasn’t a great way to do business and would probably get me into a lot of trouble. Or option number three…
Slowly, a smile slipped across my lips.
“Uh-oh,” Courtney said upon seeing it. “Dare I ask what you’ve just come up with?”
“Nothing against the rules,” I informed her. “Yet.”
She snorted indelicately. “Yet. All right, I’ll bite. What’s the plan, boss?”
“I want you to call that agent of his—Malcom or whatever his name was—and get the lowdown on his schedule. I want to know first who he ditched me for, then I want to know the deets on why he left his last publisher.”
Courtney raised her eyebrows at me. “I’m not sure how forthcoming he’ll be with that information.”
I waved off her concern. “Work your magic. You’ve already got the guy wrapped around your pinky finger or Parker never would have showed up for the first meeting. I want information and I think this Malcom guy is going to be the place to get it from.”
Courtney shrugged but agreed. “Okay. I make no promises, but I’ll get ahold of him and see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Court. You’re the best.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember that the next time you go all Bitchinator on me—and when bonuses roll around.”
I laughed at her. “Honey, please. When have you ever not gotten a bonus from me?”
“True. Just make sure that it keeps coming.”
She winked at me then, letting me know that if I got fired that day and she was suddenly stuck with a new boss, she wouldn’t hold it against me. Hell, she’d probably follow me into the unknown. Courtney was loyal like that.
Reaching for her phone, she quickly dialed a number. It rang for a while, and I waited quietly as someone eventually picked up.
“Hello, Mr. Resner, this is Courtney Hughes from S&W Publishing.” She paused, then I thought I saw her blush slightly. “Malcom, sorry.”
I raised my eyebrows at her. First-name basis? I mouthed, but she ignored me.
“I was actually calling because Mr. Parker had an appointment set up in my office here for today—an hour ago.”
She waited for his response, and I wished desperately that I could hear what he was saying on the other end. I felt like I had ants in my pants, that was how impatient I was, and the short conversation Courtney was having was eating me alive.
When Courtney winced, I instantly sat up straighter. “What?” I whispered. “What happened?”
She waved me off, frowning as she tried to concentrate on what this Malcom guy was saying to her. After a moment, she said, “I see. No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’ll get ahold of you if there’s further information we need to discuss.” She paused, and then I swore I saw her blush again. “Yes, you, too.”
She hung up then and looked up at me. She offered me a sympathetic smile, which was definitely not a good thing. “I’m sorry, Marnie. But Malcom said he was in a meeting—with another publisher.”
“God damn him!”
I shot up off the desk angrier than I’d been in years. This was my one shot at partner, and that jackass Parker was screwing it all up! “Who the fuck with?”
“You’re not going to like it,” she told me briefly.
I threw up my arms dramatically at her. “I already don’t like it!”
She sighed. “Tarvish Press.”
And just like that, everything came to a crashing, tumbling, and burning halt. “Tarvish Press.”
There were a lot of publishing houses out there these days. In addition to the big seven, there were hundreds of subsidiaries, and God knew how many indie publishing houses that were trying to break into the market and make a name for themselves. But there was only one place that I hated more than anything else on this planet, and that was Tarvish Press. He could have gone to Shit-And-Swine Publishing for all I cared, but to lose this contract to Tarvish?
No. I couldn’t allow it. I’d rather eat glass.
“I want to know who he was meeting with. I want to know what they talked about. I want dirty laundry in the hamper, and I want it now.”
Courtney didn’t even argue with me about how much of a bitch I was being nor did she try to get me to calm down. Instead, she just nodded and turned to her computer. She started typing away to get what dirt she could find.
We’ll find something. Some kind of leverage. I’m not going down without a fight, not to some bastard, old-money company like Tarvish.
This meant war.
Chapter Eight
Marnie
Courtney was working on getting the lowdown on who exactly Parker had been meeting with at Tarvish Press while I tried to do a little work of my own. Besides my regular clients—whom I had to deal with in a moderate capacity today—I had one manuscript to finish proofing and a report to send up to Dorian. Thank God it wasn’t a report on the Parker project, because I didn’t want to flat out lie to Dorian, but I wasn’t about to tell him how poorly things were going. I at least wanted the chance to fuck things up grandly on my own.
But once I got the report done and the manuscript sent back to the author, I started in on my real work. Digging into the closet of Tarvish Press.
I started with a simple internet search. Who was Tarvish Press? What were their policies? How many people did they deal with regularly? All of it was basic, almost trivial information, but I wanted to be armed with ammunition against Tarvish when I tried to win Parker over to the dark side.
Once I had their foundation down, I started to dig further.
Who had they screwed? How many books had they published that were lemons? How many covers looked like the drawings of four-year-olds and fanboys? How many customers ragged on them?
I brought up articles about Tarvish, their wins and their failures. How many times they’d gone bankrupt—which, admittedly, wasn’t many—and how many times they’d had to push back paying their clients.
I even did basic searches on their intern programs, their hiring policies, and how much women made versus men. Because you never know. I highly doubted someone like Parker would be swayed by the plights of women, but I’d take any point to argue just then. I didn’t even care if Parker signed with me so long as I didn’t lose him to fucking Tarvish Press!
Okay, not true, I thought, closing out of a bogus article about the Tarvish owner requiring all female employees to get breast implants. Definitely something fashioned from the rumor mill. I definitely want Parker to sign with us, but if I have to lose him, I won’t lose him to the one publishing house out there that will get my ass fired.
Because Dorian would fire me over that. It wouldn’t matter how much he thought I was a great editor or how good I was with difficult customers. He would 110 percent fire me. He hated the owner of Tarvish that much.
Gathering up my notes, I headed out of my office to sit on the corner of Courtney’s desk again. “Did you know that the Tarvish owner—something Reid—was sleeping with a married model while vacationing in Paris with his dying mother? I mean, who does that?”
Courtney snorted. “Guys do that. And at the risk of defending one, you know that’s probably a bogus story, right?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, probably. It’s still pretty juicy, though.”
Shaking her head a little, she eyed my butt planted on her papers. “Why don’t you just get a damn chair so you can stop sitting on my desk?”
Without looking up from my papers, I deadpanned, “Because that would encourage people to stay and sit.”
“You’re such a sociable person.”
“That’s me, social butterfly.”
“Well, Ms. Social Butterfly, I have some information for you—and you’re definitely not going to like it.”
That got my attention. I looked up from the papers I was going over to stare at Courtney. “Tear it off like a Band-Aid.”
“You want me to take as much leg hair with it as humanly possible?” she quipped.
I shot her a glare. “Just give it to me, will you?”
Clearing her throat, she said, “We all know Tarvish Press is run by billionaire son Mr. Callum Reid.”
“Callum,” I muttered. “I couldn’t think of that damn name.”
Ignoring me, she continued. “There are all sorts of rumors about him—he likes to fool around with models, for instance—most about his personal life, but there’s a ton on his business practices, too. He’s a real shark.”
I nodded. None of this was news to me thanks to Dorian’s rants about him and my own research just now.
“All of that isn’t really our concern,” she continued. “Except for one tiny detail that is going to majorly screw us.”
“Which is?” I prompted.
She hesitated, then winced and just told me. “The guy who’s trying to sign Trent Parker from Tarvish Press? It’s the owner of Tarvish Press.”
I felt my jaw drop a little and the blood rush from my face. Seriously? How did this even happen? It wasn’t unheard of for owners of publishing houses to sign people. That was common practice, as much as editors like me signing them. In fact, in indie houses, that was almost exclusively the case. Mostly that was due to a complete lack of staff, but that wasn’t the point.
What was the point? That it was just my fucking luck that I’d get railroaded by the one place that my boss would kill me over by the one guy who wouldn’t be bought off.
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
She shook her head. “And that’s not all.”
“But wait! There’s more!” I quoted, using my best game show host voice.
She ignored my sarcasm, mostly, I think, because she knew that whatever she was about to say to me was going to devastate my entire fucking life. And I didn’t want to think about it. But I nodded once to tell her to go ahead.
“The reason that Callum Reid is trying to sign Trent Parker is because they’ve known each other for years. They were best friends in high school.”
And just like that, the last hope I had of signing Trent Parker went down the drain. I was toast. I was shit on toast. I was bird shit on burnt toast. There was no salvaging this project… was there?
Putting my big-girl panties on, I turned to Marnie. “Get me his number. I mean, his number. I want to get as close to Callum Reid as humanly possible.”
“You want to call him?” Courtney asked with a raised brow. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
“Hell if I know, but I figure I’m screwed anyway. Might as well go for broke, right?”
She considered this for half a second, then shrugged. “You got it boss.”
I nodded my head in gratitude. This wasn’t over. It took Courtney only a few minutes to get Mr. Reid’s number. Although his personal number wasn’t listed publicly, there was an office number where he could be reached, and while I was sure I’d have to go through a secretary—probably some bimbo he hired for her fake tits rather than her skill—I was willing to use that as a starting place at the very least.
Snatching the number from Courtney, I quickly dialed him. It rang several times, then a strong, masculine voice came over the other end. “Tarvish Press, this is Callum Reid speaking.”
I was surprised to find that it was Mr. Reid himself answering, but also that I couldn’t help but think his voice was strangely familiar. I tried to think when I might have heard it—on a TV spot or a podcast, maybe—but couldn’t come up with anything.
I didn’t linger on it. “This is Marnie McKenna of S&W Publishing. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind meeting me for a quick chat.”
There was a beat, then, “Ms. McKenna, unless you are thinking of abandoning your contract with the devil to come over and work for me, I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass on a meeting. I’m a busy man.”
My eyes narrowed as I pictured a sniveling little weasel of a man sitting in an oversized desk chair while he had his big-busted secretary prance around in a negligée.
Bastard.
“I really must insist—” I began, but he quickly interrupted me.
“I do apologize, Ms. McKenna. I hate to be rude”—I highly doubted that—“ but I’ve got some pressing matters to attend to. You have a nice day.”
And before I could get another word out, he’d hung up the phone.
I pulled the phone away from my face and stared at it long and hard. “That bastard hung up on me.”
Courtney, who had been watching me the whole time, raised both her eyebrows at me. “Wow, what a dick.”
“I know! What an asshole.”
I was so pissed off right then that I had half a mind to march down to Tarvish Press and give him a piece of my mind in person—then I realized that I probably wouldn’t make it into the damn elevator, much less to his office, so I quickly reconsidered.
And that was when I got a better idea.
Turning to Courtney again, I smiled silkily at her. “Court, my dear, I need another favor.”
She sighed. “Man, I’m earning my keep today.”
I nodded. “Yep. I want you to find out one more thing about Callum Reid.”
“What’s that? And please don’t say preferred bust size, because I do not want to deal with the kind of crazy articles we’ll get as a result.”
I waved off her comment. “Nope. I want to know where he likes to have a drink after work. I think I’m going to pay him a visit.”
Chapter Nine
Callum
I loosened my tie and ruffled my hair a little, trying to unwind after the day. It had been a doozy, thanks to my asshole friend Trent.
That bastard’s really going to make me work for it, I thought grudgingly.
It wasn’t like that was a surprise, but you would think that he’d understand my position on S&W. They were the bane of my existence—didn’t that warrant a little discretion on his part, then? But no. The asshole was still going to meet with them while I was trying to woo him like some medieval matching ritual.
The whole thing irked me.
Let it go,I tried to tell myself. He’s doing this deliberately to piss you off.
That was probably the truth about the whole thing. Trent didn’t like to just hand things to people on silver platters, because he’d never had such opportunities himself. It had been a fluke that the two of us had ever crossed paths, and we were so different that it was a bigger fluke that we were friends.
And I was at least partially willing to admit that that made him a hell of a good guy. Not that I was ever going to tell him that, especially while he was jerking me around like this.
I took the limo that night so that I could go to the bar and get wasted at my discretion. It wasn’t something I did often, but I figured I’d earned it today.
Trent was playing hardball.
Alexander, my driver, dropped me off outside the White Wave Lounge, a classier joint than its name indicated. It was a little place tucked into a boring brick building façade with a door slapped on the front that looked about as inviting as a sword-wielding Cambodian lady—in other words, not at all.
But once you got past that rickety old door and went down the steps, it was a whole different world down there. Soft lighting, plush burgundy couches, hand-carved wooden tables, and a bar. And a liquor selection that would make even the most expert of drinkers gasp in awe.
It was a ritzy place without catering to the ignorant, the uninitiated, or the unadventurous. It was my kind of place.
I thanked Alexander and reminded him to be on standby for whenever I called. “It’ll probably be a late night,” I told him.
He nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll be here.”
I headed down the concrete stairs and met the bouncer at the entrance. I showed him my ID for formality’s sake only. He recognized me and even greeted me by name. “There’s space at the bar, Mr. Reid, but a table is tucked in the back left corner if you’d like it. Just ask the bartender.”
“Thanks, Kellen.”
“Of course, Mr. Reid.”
I headed inside and saw that, while there were plenty of customers there, things were calm. The tables along the walls were mostly occupied, several chairs even pulled up to accommodate additional guests, but Kellen was right. There were several available seats at the bar. The bar went nearly the entire length of the back wall, with a mirror reflecting the tables and chairs in front of it so that it looked like the entire place was twice its actual size. Bottles were lined right in front of the mirror, making the whole place look almost surreal.
I was going to head to that back table, the one tucked away in the corner that I liked so much, but then I spotted her at the bar.
She was dressed in a sleek white dress that was equal parts elegant and immodest. It covered her rear and those long, long legs, but her back was exposed in a deep v that was low enough that I knew she wasn’t wearing panties—or a bra. Her back was to me, so all I could see was the way her hair spilled over her shoulder on one side, with long auburn locks that were deliberately curled for that evening. But I noticed the freckles that dotted her back and the curve of her hips.
A slow smile spread across my face. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I approached the woman. When I slid into a stool beside her, I leaned across the bar and said, “What are the odds that we’d meet again?”
When she turned to look at me and I caught sight of her heart-shaped face, I knew I was right. I did recognize her. She was the same woman from the convention—the one who never called me.
She smiled sweetly at me, her lips painted with a matte red that made her look like she stepped out of a 1950s pinup ad. Fucking sexy.
“I’d say they were pretty good,” she told me in a low, sultry tone that did wonderful things to my cock.
“Oh? I figured when I didn’t hear from you that you’d decided you weren’t interested in working for Tarvish Press.”
She laughed, a sweet sound that was a mix of wind chimes and something thicker. “Oh, honey, I’m not.”
My eyebrows rose high on my head. “I feel like I’m dancing with a partner who knows different steps.”
“It happens when you don’t know what dance you’re supposed to be doing,” she told me simply.
“Maybe we should start over,” I said, feeling confused. She was sexy as hell, but she wasn’t making much sense. “I’m Callum—”
“Reid. Owner of Tarvish Press,” she finished for me with a raised brow and a sneaky little smile. “I know who you are.”
I frowned a little. Although I wasn’t unknown to the world, it was rare that I had people just call me out, saying they knew who I was. That was Trent’s territory, and I was happy to leave him to it. But on occasion I ended up in the media, usually for some ridiculous scandal that wasn’t my fault. Or only half my fault, anyway.
“I see,” I said cautiously. “Then I guess the question is, who are you?”
She turned to fully face me, showing that the front of her dress did an excellent job of covering everything and hiding nothing. The collar of the dress was at her neck, but there was a deep dip of a v that cut between her breasts. The material there was flesh colored and mesh, giving me a really nice glimpse of the inner sides of her tits, which I happened to think were marvelous. Her dress had sleeves down to her wrists, with some kind of embroidered design at the edges that I couldn’t bother myself with. I was too focused on the way that damn dress clung to her body.
Jesus, it looks like it was fucking glued on.
“Don’t you recognize me?” she asked innocently.
I kicked the corner of my mouth up in a smile. “Honey, how could I forget a body like that?”
She laughed again. “Aren’t you charming?”
“I certainly hope so.”
“Mm. Well, this would probably go more in your favor if you’d just agreed to a meeting.”
And once again we were back into the territory of what the fuck was she talking about. “As I recall, I gave you my card. Doesn’t that mean it was on you to set up a meeting?”
“Oh, but I tried to, remember? I called your office today as a matter of fact.”
My brow pinched, my smirk dropping. “What are you talking about? Did you get my secretary? I didn’t get any messages.”
“No, I spoke directly with you. You don’t remember?”
“Like I said, I’m sure I’d remember—”
I broke off as things finally clicked. Her voice was familiar, and while it could have just been that convention, I didn’t think so. Because I did get a call at work that day. And I did speak to a woman who asked for a meeting with me that same day.
Jesus fucking Christ. You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought, staring at the gorgeous, sultry woman sitting in front of me like she’d suddenly grown a second head.
“Tell me you’re not Marnie McKenna from S&W Publishing.”
Her smile turned wicked. “Look, folks, he’s finally catching on. Such a smart man.” Her sarcasm was venomous, and she finally dropped that smile a second later.
Leaning back on my stool, I motioned for the bartender. When he came over to me and asked what I wanted, I said, “A scotch, neat.”
“Yes, sir.”
The bartender pulled out a tumbler and poured a shot of the good stuff off the bar, then pushed it in front of me.
“Thanks,” I told him. Lifting the glass in a toast to the lovely pain in my ass Ms. McKenna, I downed the shot. Then I had the bartender pour me another. This one I sipped on.
McKenna waited patiently for me to down my first drink and to mull over just what was going on right here.
After a moment, I sighed. “So you’re the editor who’s trying to sign Trent Parker.”
She nodded. “Yes. And you’re the one who’s trying to steal him away.” She idly ran a hand around the rim of her glass, a half-empty martini by the looks of it.
“Steal him?” I scoffed. “I think you’ve got that backward. From what I can tell, you’re trying to steal him from me.”
“Excuse me? You weren’t even interested in signing him until I started negotiations with him!”
I waved her off. Technically that was true, but I wouldn’t let her have that point. Trent was my friend, not hers—that meant I got first dibs. “Nonsense. We’ve been friends for ages. I knew him when he still had crooked teeth and acne. I doubt you can say the same.”
She grumbled something I couldn’t make out. Louder, she told me, “I don’t have to say the same, because I have integrity.”
“Integrity?” I almost laughed at her then and there.
“Yes, integrity,” she snapped. “Meaning I don’t need to use some long-time friend connections to steal clients away from other publishers. I use my wits and my—”
“Sex appeal?” I suggested, raking my eyes deliberately across her body. God knew she was using it with me. No one wore that kind of dress for a night on the town right after work. This was a setup, and she’d been trying to seduce me.
And nearly succeeded, I admitted, my gaze once more lingering on those lovely tits.
“Asshole,” she told me, turning so that I only saw her profile.
It didn’t help with the staring, though, because she had the perfect breast-and-hip-to-waist ratio, making her look like she was naturally arching her back in ecstasy while all she was doing was sitting there.
“The contract was a great offer, and he’d have accepted it eventually if you hadn’t stepped in,” she snapped at me. Her eyes were like fire as she fixed them on me, but her anger only served to turn me on. It was unprofessional at best, but I couldn’t help being attracted to her.
No harm in looking, I reasoned.
“Highly doubtful,” I told her, taking another sip of my whiskey. “He was indulging you—and I can see why. You’re quite an eyeful.”
She pursed her lips together as her cheeks warmed. Her freckles suddenly stood out better, a little redder than the pale skin around them, and I found the effect… charming. Cute. A-fucking-dorable even. It was stupid; I didn’t do adorable. But for some reason the cute things just added to her overall effect until I found myself wanting to see just where else she had those delicious freckles.
“Honey, if I’d been offering myself, he’d have already taken the damn contract.”
I lifted my eyebrows at her insinuation, imagining what she would look like sprawled out on top of a desk, arching her back just like it was now, legs spread open as she invited me between them.
Yep, I’d have probably thought really hard about signing, too.
“Then I’ll have to hope that’s not your next offer… unless you want to pitch it to me?”
She laughed, and it was breathy this time, telling me that she wasn’t entirely unaffected by the banter between us. “I don’t think you’re as useful to me as Mr. Parker,” she told me simply.
“Oh, I beg to differ.” I leaned closer to her, pushing the boundaries of personal space and definitely going beyond what would be considered appropriate in a business situation. But this wasn’t business, and if she thought it was, she wasn’t paying attention. “I think I’d be plenty useful to you. Just give me a little time and I’ll give you everything you want.”
Her breath hitched, her breasts heaving, and for just a second her eyes were dark pits of wanton lust. I could feel the draw, the slight lean of her body toward mine. She wanted me. Part of her even needed me—and then she promptly slapped her glass down on the table, with half of its contents sloshing over the side.
“I don’t give up, Mr. Reid,” she told me, and while her voice was still husky, it was also firm. Like she wasn’t going to give in to whatever temptation I threw her way.
Damn shame, I couldn’t help but think, even while the more reasonable side of me reminded me that she was working for the enemy. Almost literally.
I didn’t lean back, and I didn’t do anything to hide the heat in my gaze, because I realized that it made her uncomfortable. She didn’t like that she was attracted to me, and damn it all if I wouldn’t play that up. I got off my stool and took a step closer to her. I was tall enough that we were eye level, and I could smell the soft, flowery scent she’d put on mixing in with the subtle hint of woman that drove me fucking nuts. I thought it must be pheromones sent out into the world in an effort to subconsciously attract a mate. It pissed me off, but I loved it, too. There was little that could make you as high as the scent of desire.
“Neither do I, Marnie.” I made a point of saying her name, letting it roll off my tongue in an effort to show her the things I could do, would do if she’d give in.
She shuddered but didn’t pull back. “Too bad for you, Mr. Reid.”
I grinned wolfishly. “May the best man win,” I said pointedly.
She grinned like a cat, slow and languid and predatory. It was fucking sexy. “Never send a man to do a woman’s job.”
“And, baby, there are some jobs only a woman does right,” I told her, dropping my voice even farther. “Want to go someplace and find out which ones?”
I didn’t know what made me ask. Up until this point, I was doing this purely out of a desire to make her uncomfortable—and because she was sexy as hell. But this… this was crossing a line. I should have tried to reach out into the air and snatch those words back, but even if I could have, I wouldn’t. I wanted to see what her answer would be, and a big part of me wanted that answer to be a yes.
“Fraternizing with the enemy?” she all but purred, leaning even closer until I could actually feel the tips of her breasts pressing into my chest.
God. Damn.
“I promise to torture you until you scream,” I growled in answer.
Her lips found their way to my ear, and her breath was a warm caress as she said, “I’ll hold you to that promise.”
She pulled back at the same time that I stepped back. Neither of us moved far. We were simply making room for her to gracefully slip from her stool onto her heels. The additional height put her around my chin.
I took her hand and placed it in the crook of my arm, like we were on a date, like I wasn’t walking her toward the back where there were private rooms so I could fuck her senseless and make good on that promise to hear her scream. The fact that she was so dressed up and I was being so gentlemanly… it made it even hotter.
I leaned over and whispered, “You’re going to leave those heels on while I slide into you.”
Her lips parted slightly as she looked up at me from beneath thick, dark lashes. “Good,” she said simply.
Anticipation did half the work as it ran through my body. The less important, reasonable part of my brain was busy listing all the reasons that this was a horrible idea, but I was ignoring all of them. I wanted her. It didn’t matter if she was a pain in my ass or a ballbuster or anything else. It wasn’t like I wanted to marry her. I just wanted a hell of a time.
I escorted her to the very end of the bar where there was a door with a sign that said PRIVATE in swirling gold lettering. She raised an eyebrow at me as I dug in my pocket for a key.
“You got the keys to the city in there, too?” she teased.
I grinned at her. “I’ve got something in my pants you’ll wanna see.”
I used the key to open the door and slid in. There were a half dozen rooms in the back, usually used for meetings, but occasionally set up for more… intimate affairs like ours. It was a place for discretion and privacy, and only a few club members, like myself, had a key to get into the area. That was half the damn appeal. I didn’t care that I paid extra for it, regardless of the ridiculous bill. Nine times out of ten, I didn’t use it, but tonight it was well worth the price.
Three of the six doors were closed with a red tag hanging on the handle, indicating that they were in use and not to be disturbed. But three were open. I picked the middle one, pulling out my key again.
“The same key works on all the rooms?” she asked.
I glanced at her and noticed that she was staring at the back hallway, looking at the doors and peeking at the room we passed. I had to remind myself that while she was an editor and likely made a decent salary, she wasn’t a billionaire. She likely didn’t come from the same kind of money that my family did. This whole back room probably looked like some Freemason’s secret ritual meeting site.
Winking at her, I answered, “Yep. Anyone caught in a room he isn’t supposed to be in and his membership is automatically revoked.”
She snorted, which was incredibly cute. “Jesus, you guys are on the honor system.”
I pushed open the door and dragged her inside. The room was a private suite, complete with a vanity, couch, and a plush, king-sized bed that I intended to make use of.
“You know what? I’m not even going to ask about the bed.”
I laughed at her. “Good, because I’m not interested in talking anymore.”
I reached for her, grabbing her upper arms, and jerked her back to me. She slammed against my hard chest, her tits pressing against me, soft and begging to be let loose. My hands went to her small waist, traveling lower to find her curvaceous, perfectly round ass. I gave her a squeeze, and she let out a small gasp.
Her hands went around my neck and she tugged me down to her mouth. My lips fitted over hers, pressing hard. My tongue slipped out to slide against the seam of her mouth, demanding entrance.
She offered it to me only for the sake of dueling with my tongue. We battled like it was for our lives. She tasted like olives, mint, and something I couldn’t place, but it might have been just her. Her hands clutched at my neck, then slid up into my hair, gripping the strands harshly. She was aggressive, needy, demanding. I fucking loved it.
My hands gripped her ass tighter, lifting her up easily. She groaned into my mouth, and automatically her legs opened, settling around my hips with one long, shapely leg on either side. There was a long slit in her dress that let her do that, and the result was to expose one smooth leg, baring the skin there up to her panty line.
Which I suddenly noticed she didn’t have. “Jesus,” I said, breaking the kiss. “You’re not wearing any fucking panties.”
“Not with this dress,” she told me simply, then attacked my mouth again.
If my cock hadn’t been hard up to this point—which it had; it had been hard since I’d seen her sitting at that fucking bar—it sure as hell was now. It strained at the fly of my trousers, begging release, and it was both a relief and torture to have Marnie’s core so fucking close.
And there ain’t a scrap of material covering it, I thought. All I had to do was get through that damn dress.
My hands roamed her back, with the bare skin there reminding me that there was no zipper. I carried her over to the bed, because I was impatient and fuck it all if she thought I was going to wait after that little bombshell.
I threw her down onto the bed unceremoniously. She let out an oomph, then a laugh as her breasts bounced and her auburn hair sprawled out beneath her on the pillow. She looked like she belonged on one of those dirty books girls liked to read. All she needed was for her breasts to be spilling out of her top…
And I was more than happy to help with that.
Crawling over her, knee on either side, I reached for the shoulders of her dress, working my fingers beneath the fabric to find bare skin. Then I jerked the material down off her shoulders and down until I’d freed her large, pale breasts. Instantly I fell in love with those tits. Large, but still round and nicely shaped. Her nipples were pink, and I was pleased to see they were hard little pebbles set on the pinkest damn skin I’d ever seen. Fucking perfect.
“Don’t just stare,” she told me, her voice thick with desire, and her eyes flashing with it. “Touch them. Play with them. I believe I was promised torture.”
“You don’t have to twist my arm, baby.”
I reached for her, my hands cupping her large breasts, squeezing them. She moaned as I did so, encouraging me further. Her back arched, shoving her tits farther into my hands eagerly. I grinned down at her, hungry for her pale, freckled flesh. I palmed her tits for a bit before I let my fingers slip up to her nipples. As soon as I flicked a thumb over the pebbled tips, she cried out.
“Sensitive?” I asked, flicking them again.
She moaned loudly and nodded her head.
I pinched her tips between my forefinger and thumb, rolling them carefully, then squeezing them. She cried out at the movement.
Fuck, she’s responsive, I thought.
My cock was straining against my pants, and all I wanted to do was plunge into her balls-deep, but I’d promised her torture. Plus, her fucking tits… they were addictive.
I leaned forward to capture a nipple in my mouth, letting my hand return to cupping her heavy flesh. I fastened my mouth around the hardened nub, getting another groan of approval. Then my tongue laved at the pebble before I sucked on it. Her hands went to my head, gripping my dark hair, holding me to her breast. I grinned into her flesh right before I caught her nipple between my teeth and worried at it.
“Jesus,” she said, her voice strained.
I bit her just a little, not hard enough to cause much in the way of pain, but like a pinch, just to let her know I was there. Not that she needed the reminder. My tongue instantly went over it to soothe the bite, and she writhed beneath me.
“Fuck, are you going to take off your damn pants or what?” she demanded, half panting, and all I’d done was fondle her tits.
I sucked once more on her nipple before pulling away. “Impatient?”
She groaned. “Damn it, yes!”
I chuckled a little at how demanding she was and how bad she was at waiting. But my hands went to my trousers just the same, because the truth was, I was feeling pretty damn impatient myself. I popped open the button, then slid down my zipper. My cock sprang free, hard and pulsing already, begging to plunge into her unknown.
Marnie looked down the length of her own body to see my jutting cock. I felt her shudder beneath me and saw her lick her lips. I briefly considered offering her a mouthful, but I was too close already. I felt like I might pop if those red, red lips slipped around my dick and swallowed me.
Fuck, but I might not get another chance.
Check that, I wouldn’t get another chance. This would be a onetime deal. But that didn’t change the fact that I was already fit to burst, and if I came, I could shamelessly say, I wanted it to happen while I was buried in her pussy.