Rewritten (The Bound Series Book 7) Page 5

  Angus knew his brother had felt guilty—like he was the reason Angus hadn’t finished the damn book. And sure, exhaustion and stress and worry over Ewan had factored into it—and grief—so much fucking grief. Though, intense as they were, they still hadn’t been the biggest reasons. No, this was all on him—his shitty headspace and his inability to make good decisions. Past Angus had fucked present Angus right up.

  “You okay?”

  Eliza’s question dragged him back to the present, and he met her concerned gaze. “Yeah. Just woolgathering, I suppose.”

  She didn’t look convinced. In fact, she looked like she was about to say something he probably didn’t want to hear.

  “I’m starving, and I’m sick of the room service menu,” he blurted. “Let’s grab something before we head back to the hotel.”

  “Sure. What are you in the mood for?”

  “Something with leftovers that will still taste good at three a.m. when I’m up writing.”

  She raised her eyebrow. “You remember that you have a ten o’clock panel tomorrow morning, right?”

  He did now. “Of course, I do.”

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but he saw the smile quirking her lips. “How about pizza then?”

  His stomach growled loudly in response, and she grinned.

  Leaning forward, she talked to the cab driver about pizza places within walking distance of the hotel. They picked the one farthest from the hotel, figuring there would be fewer convention goers there. It was still fairly busy, but they found an out-of-the-way table in the back corner of the restaurant.

  He watched as Eliza scanned the room as soon as she sat. Something felt a little off about her behavior, but she seemed to relax as she settled back into the chair. But every time the bell jingled above the door, she glanced up. She didn’t seem particularly jumpy—just very, very aware. Maybe all the people were getting to her, too. At least here, the only people they needed to interact with were the waiter and each other.

  The bells chimed, and her attention drifted from the menu to the door again.

  “Are you expecting someone?”

  Her cheeks colored slightly, and she shook her head. “It’s just force of habit. I...used to work in a restaurant. In college,” she added in a rush. “I guess that server training never goes away.”

  He didn’t doubt that she’d worked as a waitress in college, but he couldn’t help but think there was more to it than that. Her answers just made him want to ask more questions.

  Once the food was delivered, she immediately grabbed a piece and bit into it groaning as she closed her eyes. Christ, he could listen to that sound all day. Shifting in his seat, he asked, “Good?”

  “I’m starving, and it’s delicious.” She grinned. “In fact, it’s so good that if I still had Facebook, I’d change my status to ‘In a relationship’.”

  He laughed then took a bite and nearly died of bliss. “You’d have to change your status to ‘It’s complicated’, because I’m pretty sure this pizza relationship has now become polyamorous.”

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she threw her head back and laughed. They spent the rest of the meal talking about everything and nothing. Books and movies and TV shows they both loved—or hated. She was brutal in her takedown of Dollhouse. And their argument over which Star Trek iteration was better had spilled over to the table next to them. That guy swore it was Voyager. Angus preferred Deep Space Nine. But Eliza had gone all in for The Next Generation.

  His heart felt lighter than it had in ages. Almost as light as it had when life was simple, and cancer and career implosion were abstract concepts that happened to people he didn’t know. There was something about her that made him want to forget that he was getting to know a colleague rather than a potential date. He’d even had to shove his hand in his pocket to prevent himself from touching her as they walked back to the hotel.

  “I hate to ruin what was a really great night, but I have to ask you a question.”

  Dread settled in his gut, making him wish he’d passed on that last piece of pizza. “Aye?”

  She glanced toward him nervously. “Have you read the latest email from Barbara?”

  That pizza was definitely a mistake. “Depends. When did she send it?”

  “This morning sometime.”

  She met his gaze briefly, her eyes green and gold under the emerging street lights, and her gaze solemn. “You should probably do that, because we’re going to need to talk.”

  “Well, that sounds fucking ominous.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” she rushed to add.

  And that meant it was probably worse than bad. Goddamn it. “I’ll read it when I get upstairs.”

  They rode the lift in silence as questions clawed at the inside of his skull. Was Terra dropping him? Giving up on the last book? Had they realized he was a fraud? That the success of the other books was just a fluke? He’d have to pay back the advance. He could do it, but he’d rather not.

  He stabbed the room key into the card reader and pushed open the door. Glancing back at Eliza, he asked, “Are you coming?”

  She nodded and followed him in, perching on the edge of the chair where she’d eaten lunch. Had that only happened that afternoon? It seemed like he’d spent far longer than a single day with her.

  He logged into his email account and found the most recent message from his editor.

  Dear Angus and Eliza,

  I’m hoping you two are having a lovely time at the con and getting to know one another. Since you’ll be spending a fair amount of time together over the next six weeks, I’d like to see the two of you develop a collaborative relationship.

  He glanced over the top of his screen to find Eliza watching him intently. After briefly meeting her gaze, he continued to read.

  Angus, I know you’ve had trouble finishing the story, and I also understand that you prefer not to use beta readers, aside from your brother, of course. I don’t want you to think of Eliza as a beta reader. She’s more like a story development specialist.

  He peered through his lashes at the woman in question. Coolly in control as ever, she’d begun making notes in her fucking planner as she waited for him to finish reading. He had no idea why the sight of that little leather-bound book was setting him off, but it was. Though he tried to stay loose, his neck and shoulders began to stiffen.

  Other than you, I’m convinced no one knows the Dark Nebula world, better than Eliza, and I’m including myself in that list. For the foreseeable future, I’d like you to allow Eliza to read all manuscript pages. I’d also like you to discuss both plot and character arcs with her. She’s offered invaluable assistance to other in-house authors, as well as her independent clients, and I know you’ll just love working with her.

  I’ll be checking in with you both while you’re in L.A.

  Best,

  Barbara

  He rolled his shoulders, trying to release the tension tightening his body. It wasn’t working. He carefully closed his laptop, even though what he really wanted to do was slam it shut. Dragging his hands through his hair, he resisted the urge to yank. The nightmare was real, and no amount of physical pain was going to wake him up.

  “How long have you known?” he asked without looking at Eliza.

  “Since this morning. I read it as soon as it came in.”

  He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “And you didn’t think to tell me before now?”

  She stiffened. “And when was I supposed to slot that in?”

  “How would I know? You’re the one with the death-grip on your schedule—and mine, too, for that matter.”

  Her lips thinned as she pressed them together. “Should I have mentioned it before your panels so you couldn’t focus on what you were supposed to be doing? Or how about on the way to Sarah’s house? Because I’m sure that young woman would like nothing more than having her favorite author be an asshole. Trust me, few things are more disappointing than meet
ing someone you’ve admired for years and having them turn out to be a total douchebag.”

  “Speaking from experience?”

  She smiled grimly. “Yes.”

  For the briefest moment, he wondered if she was referring to him, but he tamped down his ego. Just because Barbara had mentioned Eliza knew the books inside and out didn’t mean she was a fan. She’d likely just analyzed them since she knew she’d been assigned to him. And what did it matter if she was a fan, anyway? It wasn’t like it would change anything about this cocked-up situation.

  “And I didn’t tell you over dinner,” she continued, “because we were having a nice time, and I didn’t want to ruin it.” She sat back in her chair. “Besides, I prefer not to treat men like children who need to be coddled. You’re a big boy. You can read your own email.”

  “Yet, you pointed it out, anyway. So, which is it?” he bit out. “I’m capable of reading my own email, or I’m not?”

  Chapter Nine

  Eliza refused to back down, even though Angus was glowering at her. She was pissed at him for responding to every offer of help with his hackles up, and she was furious at Barbara for not laying out the whole situation for him. He had a right to know what was being discussed behind his back. Barbara hadn’t explicitly told Eliza not to tell him...but she wasn’t sure what would happen if she did.

  She sighed. Ultimately, her job was to help Angus. He needed to know. And if she got fired, she’d find something else.

  “Yes, I think you’re completely capable of reading your email. However, based on your track record, I was afraid you wouldn’t get to it until it was too late.”

  His eye narrowed. “Too late for what?”

  She took a deep breath and fervently hoped she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life—well, the second biggest, anyway. “Look, for some reason, Barbara isn’t telling you everything. I don’t know if it’s because she’s doing her usual scattershot style of communication, or if she’s got a specific reason for withholding this.”

  “Withholding what?” His entire body was tense. She was surprised he wasn’t vibrating.

  “There’s a lot riding on the completion of this book.”

  He nodded for her to continue.

  “You only have print and electronic rights, correct?”

  He nodded again, his expression darkening. “I get a percentage of audio sales, but not as much as Terra does. I was so thrilled to be getting a contract in the first place, I just signed it. It never occurred to me that audio books would ever be this big.”

  Sadly, he wasn’t the first author she’d heard that from. “I assume you’d get a similar percentage for film rights?”

  “I think it might be a little more, but not much—and with very limited creative control. Why?”

  She took a deep breath. “Someone from STARZ has been in touch with the powers that be at Terra, and they’re interested in optioning the rights for DNR. But they want to work from completed source material. They don’t want to get into a Game of Thrones situation where they’re creating spoilers or going completely off storyline. The producers are huge fans of your series, and they think there’s a lot of money to be made for everyone involved.”

  He was utterly silent. Motionless, as he stared at her with those dark, drowning eyes.

  “I didn’t think not knowing exactly what was at stake was fair to you.”

  Unmoving, he continued to hold her gaze. “I appreciate that.”

  He didn’t sound terribly appreciative. He sounded furious, and she couldn’t blame him. She’d love to know who he was pissed at, but she wasn’t about to ask. Not right now, anyway.

  She stood. “I know this is a lot to consider. I’ll let Barbara know that you’ve seen the email. I’d appreciate it though if you kept the potential STARZ option between us—at least for right now.”

  “I can do that. For now.”

  “Thank you.” She turned toward her room but stopped. “After your panels, tomorrow—after you’ve had some time to digest everything—I’d like to talk about the situation a little more. Would that be possible?”

  He dragged his hands through his hair. The unruly curls stood out at odd angles, and she fought the urge to smooth them down.

  “Aye. We can do that.”

  “Thank you.”

  When there was no response, she opened her door and glanced back at him. He was staring blankly into space, because she was sure there was no way he was studying the ugly watercolor print of the daylilies that matched the equally ugly bedspreads in their rooms.

  “Goodnight, Angus,” she murmured as she closed the door, not bothering to look back to see if he’d acknowledged her.

  When she woke the next morning, Angus had slid a hastily scrawled note beneath the door separating their rooms.

  I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a run. I’ll be back in time for my first panel. I’ll be writing between panels, but I’ve reserved a table at six, under your name in the restaurant on the top floor. I’ll meet you up there after I’m finished. ~A

  Grabbing her planner from the bedside table, she flipped it open and crossed out the entire itinerary for the day, pushing the pen into the paper a lot harder than was necessary. She hated it when schedules got changed—especially at the last minute like this. She glanced down at her leg. Her knee was jiggling—a sure sign of agitation. Being at loose ends and not knowing what to count on bothered her more than she’d ever admit to anyone. Being at the mercy of someone else’s whims or moods made her feel too vulnerable. There was safety in control. Once, she’d been more than willing to give that up. But she’d learned her lesson. And it had been brutal.

  Taking a breath, she jotted down her new schedule and admitted to herself that she was also weirdly disappointed not to be spending the day with Angus. And that was just stupid. He was her author. Not her friend. Not her brooding Mr. Darcy stand in. Her author. Just because they’d had a few laughs together and had been getting along relatively decently didn’t mean it was more than that. Especially, since she had no idea how he was going to respond to Terra’s insistence that he allow her access to his work.

  All she could do was move forward as if everything were going to be okay. This morning, she’d review her list of questions about book five and respond to Barbara’s latest email and the rest of the messages that had come in. Then, she’d spend the afternoon checking out exhibits and panels until it was time to meet Angus for dinner.

  It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it would have to do to keep her mind off the stress of this assignment. If she didn’t find a way to manage the tension, she’d end up triggering a panic attack, and that was the last fucking thing she needed. She’d worked too damn hard to overcome them.

  Grabbing her phone, she texted Angus.

  —I got your note—thanks for letting me know. I’ll see you tonight.

  He responded almost immediately.

  —Glad you found it. I didn’t want to text and wake you. You seem the sort that leaves the sound turned up on their phone even when they’re in bed.

  She smiled.

  —Guilty.

  Her text tone chimed again.

  —Knew it.

  Eliza didn’t talk to him again until he showed up at the table he’d reserved—nearly forty-five minutes late. She looked up from her notes as he slid into the chair across from her.

  “Good timing. I was just about to give up and order without you.”

  “I’m sorry I’m late. I ended up signing a bunch of books after the last panel.” His gaze briefly dropped to what she’d been writing, and he frowned.

  She closed her planner. “I figured.”

  Leaning forward on his elbows, he held her gaze. “Well, you know...” he murmured. His eyes appeared nearly black in the low light, and the challenge in them was unmistakable. “It’s not like I have a new book to offer. I’ve got to keep them interested somehow.”

  Beneath the challenge, there was a hint of anger.

  S
he crossed her arms over her chest and stared back at him. “You realize that none of this was my idea, right? I didn’t go to Barbara and say, ‘You know what would be fun? If I completely intruded on Angus Domhnull’s life and browbeat him into finishing his book!’ That’s not how any of this went down.”

  The waitress chose that moment to bring the menus and take their drink order.

  After she left, Eliza continued, “I know that last night’s bombshell was the last thing you needed when you were only just getting acclimated to the idea of having an assistant, and I’m sorry that’s how it turned out. But I promise you...”

  She let her voice trail off as the server returned with their drinks. She took a sip of her wine, waiting until the woman approached another table.

  “What were you about to promise me, Ms. Burrows?”

  The way he said her name fluttered through her abdomen and sank lower, causing her pussy to clench. She took another larger swallow as she tried to remember what the hell she was stupid enough to promise him.

  “I promise that I’m not about to stand over your shoulder and scrutinize every word you write.” She sighed in realization. “Though, I suspect that’s what Barbara’s hoping for.”

  Angus lifted the crystal glass holding the bourbon he’d ordered and took a drink. Setting it on the table, he rolled it slowly between his palms.

  Dear god, how had she not noticed his hands before? Long, well-formed fingers that managed to look both graceful and strong. Hands that would look perfect holding a crop or a cane. Hands she’d love to feel on her body. She squirmed slightly in her seat.

  No. No, she wouldn’t love that. He was her author, and she needed to remember that

  “What are you hoping for?” he asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

  She lifted her gaze meeting his dark eyes, and a shiver worked through her. Well, he hadn’t pulled her completely from her thoughts, because what she was hoping for wasn’t anything she’d ever voice. Not to him, anyway. No, not to anyone. That part of her life was over.