She turned and walked out, leaving me breathless, my throat and eyes burning.
Had she really just quoted lines from my very first, obscure book? And used them in perfect context?
No onehad read that book. Well, not enough people anyway. It had gone out of print years ago. I’d had to re-invent myself and try again before finding any sort of notoriety or financial success.
To this day, it was still my personal favorite, the best thing I’d ever written, but no one else seemed to agree. No one but Bonnie.
And what the heck had I just done? Was Iinsane?Even if shehadn’t been a fan—a former fan now, no doubt—the interview was non-negotiable.
My editor was going to kill me when she found out I’d been a jerk and basically roared at the reporter, scaring her away.
Fear is a beginning, a starting point. Don’t treat it like an unscalable wall and let it end your journey before it even begins.
I had believed it once, long ago in the very beginning of my writing career when all I’d had was hope and determination and raw, unpolished talent. Before I’d been knocked off the proverbial wall and landed flat on my back.
What had happened tothatguy? Had I really changed so much? Apparently so, since I’d just carelessly squashed the dreams of a fellow writer—and shot my own career in the foot. With an assault rifle.
I called her a failure.Ugh. I bent down and picked up the contract from the floor, acidic shame eating away at my insides.
I’d been insensitive at times before, but I’d never been intentionally mean. When Bonnie had looked at me with those serious, all-seeing eyes and asked me what I was afraid of, I’d felt like a cornered, feral animal.
Because she’d been absolutely right—Iwasterrified of being found out, of having her and all her readers learn the truth.
Iwas the failed writer. And in my fear, I’d lashed out and accidentally struck the exact right target—her own dreams of writing novels. What an ass I was.
So now what are you going to do, genius?
Leaning back against the desk, I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling as if the answer was painted overhead. Then I reached for my phone and dialed Hunter.
“Hey brother.” He sounded like his usual upbeat self. “Done already? How did it go?”
I answered him in three words.
“I’m in trouble.”
Chapter Eight
Pulling Back the Curtain
Bonnie
I fought back tears as I trekked across what seemed like miles of marble toward the mansion’s front doors.
When I’d first seen the size of this house, I’d thought it was fitting for a guy like Jack Bestia. That was before I’d discovered what kind of guy he actually was.
He’s a monster, a total beast.
Now the enormous home and expansive grounds just seemed obscene instead of impressive, and they were proof positive life wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair that someone so nasty should find such commercial and critical success for his work. It wasn’t fair that he could be so ugly on the inside and so delicious on the outside.
Itreallywasn’t fair that I was probably going to be in trouble at work because ofhisasshole behavior. He made Sterling look like a sweetie, which was no easy task.
And I would look like… a wimp.
I gave myself a mental kick. Why had I let Jack provoke me like that? No one would want to hear my excuses. I’d been given a job to do, and I hadn’t gotten it done. I hadn’t even gotten a photo of him—not that there was an article for it to go with.
I certainly couldn’t write about what had transpired back there. Yes, he’d insulted me, but I’d been just as bad. I’d accused one of the world’s top-selling and most beloved authors of being a scaredy-cat.
