I finally reach the last door on the right. I pause before I enter, inhaling a deep breath. Evan’s back is to me. His back that might as well be a brick wall with how rigid he is sitting. Definitely not a sloucher.
“Mrs. Stevens?” I say brightly as I enter the room, trying to make sure my first impression at least sounds confident. “I’m Rachel Perry, or as I’m more known in the forums, BarrettBeyondTheBadge.”
I charge forward with my sweaty palm extended to approach the gorgeous woman adorned in jewelry mixed in metals and jewels hanging from her ears, her neck, and her wrists.
But then there is Evan. Standing up. Getting between his publicist and me.
His height casts a long shadow of doubt over me, and my hand drops.
“Mr. Michaels,” I manage to mutter as my eyes trace up from his chest to his solid jaw.
“The famous BarrettBeyondTheBadge in the flesh, I see. Tired of only being seen as black and white letters on a screen?” he mocks, flashing me a very hard-to-miss forced smile.
The words sting, and I hate that they do. But there he is—the Evan Michaels—confirming that his message wasn’t just direct. He’d intended it to be rude. He doesn’t want me here,andhe thinks I’m a literary thief.
Which is fine. Totally fine. It has to be fine. Because today is my day.
Except my body and mind are not communicating. And while my brain is saying the situation is fine, my knees are under the influence thathe is fine. My knees are swooning like they’re auditioning for a historical drama, because despitethe fake smile, which is equal parts charming and condescending, he’s even more unfairly handsome up close. Dangerously handsome.
And then it happens. My nose decides to involve itself as it catches a whiff of his cologne. It’s something woodsy and warm, becauseof courseit is. Handsome men always smell like they’ve been traipsing through the trees.
My nostrils flare. My dignity flickers. My knees wobble harder.
Pull it together,I force myself to say…in my head of course.
I close my eyes, the image of his mean message flashing behind my eyelids, and then open them, giving Evan my biggest grin. “So, your vision does work. Does it work enough to see that my writing is good?”
“Good enough to at least get my publicist’s attention,” he replies smoothly.
“But not yours? Interesting. I thought maybe you were smarter off the page,” I say, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, this is intriguing,” Mrs. Stevens interrupts, her lips pulled up in a curious grin. “You two have immediate chemistry. This could be more fantastic than what I planned to orchestrate myself. Who doesn’t love a little healthy bantering?”
I step around Evan, finally shaking Mrs. Stevens' hand.
“Barrett,” I reply with a wink. “At least from Evan’s point of view.”
Mrs. Stevens allows herself a tight, amused laugh. “Well, that’s why I wanted to meet with you. Your version of Barrett gives a fresh perspective that has attracted quite a bit of attention. Did I read that right when I saw that you have eight hundred fifty-two thousand subscribers?”
“Actually, eight hundred fifty-four thousand as of this morning,” I correct with a smile.
“And growing,” she muses. “That’s fantastic. Would you prefer if I call you Rachel or Miss Perry?”
“Rachel, please,” I answer.
Mrs. Stevens gives me a slightly wider smile. “Rachel, please, sit down. Ignore Evan. He doesn’t make the decisions in this office. What I say goes.”
I sit down with relief. My knees need to get a hold of themselves. It’s a lot easier to have resolve when it’s all in your head or even when you type it in a message. It’s alot harderto have it when you are face-to-face with the gorgeous human being that has written novels you’ve adored for years.
And that gorgeous human being now grunts. Evan’s face looks as if it’s been chiseled from stone with a straight line for a mouth. He doesn’t seem pleased by this situation in the slightest, and I have to wonder what I did so wrong that would make him repulsed by my sheer presence.
“I’m so glad you’ve agreed to discuss something that I think is going to have the book world buzzing,” Mrs. Stevens begins. “I’m a straight-to-the-point kind of woman, so what I’m offering is the chance to go on Evan’s next book tour to announce who is behind BarrettBeyondTheBadge. I want to put you two on stage together, author and fanfiction writer.”
I watch Evan out of my peripheral vision. He hasn’t moved. Hasn’t interrupted. Hasn’t done anything to show any emotion. He’s stoic. Steady.
“Before you say anything, I want to add that I do think you are a fantastic writer, Rachel. You’ve also been smart with your fanfiction. The website you use is a free database, where anyone can read what you write. You haven’t profited from it, which means no copyright infringement. I also know that it can’t be easy to write as much as you have without…” Mrs. Stevens pauses.
“Without collecting any money,” I finish for her with a nod before I swallow hard, but I also want to stick my tongue out at Evan and say,“I’m not a fraud, and I haven’t done anything wrong!”
