My phone’s ringtone jerked me out of my thoughts. I looked down at the screen. My editor.
Great.
Swiping to answer the call, I lifted the phone to my ear. “It’salmostfinished. Really. I’m so close.”
Marina’s laugh sparkled on the other end of the line. “That’snotwhy I’m calling, though I’m glad to hear it. How are you, Jack?”
My eyes narrowed. If she wasn’t calling about my fast-approaching deadline—the one I couldn’t miss without obliterating my career as an author—then whywasshe calling? New York editors in general didn’t have time to chat, and as one of the top editors at one of the top publishing houses in the world, Marina definitely didn’t call to make small talk.
My tone was cautious, tinged with suspicion. “I’m fine. And you?”
“Great. Great. Crazed as usual, but it’s all good. Listen, the reason I’m calling is publicity has set up an interview for you with the New York Daily Report. They’re sending one of their people to talk to you next Thursday.”
“What?” I hissed, unable to believe what I’d just heard. My head suddenly felt too light, and my neck was hot.
“Your fans will love it, and it’ll add to the hype of your release. Gotta do it up big for the last book, you know.”
My jaw clenched, and I disciplined myself not to shout at the woman who’d shepherded my career through the first six books in my best-selling series and made me a household name—not to mention a billionaire—in the process.
“I hate the media,” I managed to grit out in a passably polite tone.
“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed,” she quipped, sarcasm dripping from her words. “I thought you were trying out a new smile when you literallybared your teethat the photographers last month at the gas station. They’re calling you Bestia the Beast in the tabloids, you know.”
“I hate the tabloids even more.”
Tone a bit less polite, but hey, weweretalking about the lowest form of “journalism.”
“Well, the Daily Report is the furthest thing from a tabloid. It’s a very prestigious publication, and the writer has done some wonderful pieces over the past few years. She’s really quite talented.”
“I can’t do an interview. I’m busy. Writing.”
“I thought you said you were almost done,” Marina teased.
“Yeah well I… am… but I’m not done yet. I still have to write the ending. I don’t want to break the flow.”
Ha. The only thing flowing around here lately was the tide outside my back door and the river of bullshit I was currently dishing out.
“Come on, Jack. Be reasonable. It’ll only take a couple of hours. She’ll come to the house, ask a few questions, take a few pictures, and leave. Piece of cake. And I know you can be charming when you want to—I’ve seen it.”
“You told them they could come to myhouse?” I roared.
Nonplussed by my increased volume, Marina said, “People want to see where the magic happens, you know? The whole glimpse of an enigma thing. It’ll be different. It’ll be fun.”
Panic simmered beneath my skin, making me hot and itchy all over. “No.”
Marina huffed a short laugh. “It’s not a request, Jack. Your contract says you agree to promote your work.”
“Promote my work? I’ve given my life to this series. Iammy work. It’s all I have. No one cares more about making this a success than me.”
“Then you’ll do the interview.Non-negotiable, Jack. Just be glad it’s not a whole tour—I know how you hate to travel these days.”
When I didn’t respond, she said in a softer tone, “It’s a couple of hours. How bad could it be?”
At that I made ahmmphnoise. “I guess we’ll find out, since it’snon-negotiable.”
“Thatta boy,” she purred. “And Jack… be nice.”
My response was a growl. “I’m always nice.”
