Cynthia nodded, her grin taking a wicked edge. “That sounds awesome. Anything super hot to read through yet?”
“Not yet,” I said, fighting back a blush. “I’m still figuring out the characters. I’m trying to focus on a couple of people that showed up in my last series, you know?”
“Hook ‘em with something familiar, keep the world going. I get it.” She slapped me on the shoulder, smiling. “Keep me posted when you get to the hot stuff, alright? I’ll beta read whatever you’ve got. I could use it.”
I laughed and agreed. Cynthia was all right. Brusque, sometimes, and never subtle, but she was good people. I’d never forget how she spoke up a while back, when the dean of the college tried to get VIP Lit shut down over the romance serials I had publishing through the school’s literary magazine. She was a good friend and I was glad to know her.
“See you in there,” Cynthia said, turning and leaving.
I looked around at the familiar faces. After all the drama of the trial and our subsequent victory, I was focusing on getting to know some of the people who had been here from the start. I hadn’t made headway with all of them yet; even now, here in our club, some of them gave me the side-eye for the rumors that couldn’t seem to stop circulating about me. For the most part, though, I felt safe and protected in here.
I shuffled into the conference room with everyone else, filling up the eclectic room full of couches and plush chairs. I loved this room, for all of its lack of rhyme or reason. Every chair was a different color, a different style, all haphazardly organized around the three chairs up front. A silly little smile crossed my lips as I ran my eyes over those chairs. My boys, all three of them, would be filling those chairs out soon.
I pushed my way through to my familiar spot, a dark red leather loveseat. Cynthia was already curled up on her side. We’d been sharing this couch since the beginning of the school year.
I sank in and closed my eyes for a moment. The couch felt like heaven right then. My body melted a little, threatening to throw me into a blissful nap. I set my bag down between us and pulled my laptop out, bringing up a blank document to get started.
The room was full, most members sitting down in their spots. A chime went off, indicating the turn of the hour. I flicked my eyes towards the door and waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
Murmurs rumbled through the crowd. The Executive Committee were always in here first or shortly thereafter. They were nothing if not punctual.
Well. All except the Creative Executive. I smiled as I thought of Riot’s calm, stoic face, knowing the emotions that roil inside him. He’d occasionally thought nothing of strolling in well after meetings had started, playing things fast and loose like the wild card he believed himself to be. But I remembered how punctual he was once things picked up with VIP Lit, and once things picked up between the two of us. I took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, careful to do so quietly, as I remembered the feel of his strong hands on me and his body against mine.
Speak of the devil. The door opened abruptly, and all of us turned our heads to look. Riot strode into the room in his signature leather jacket.
And a smile on his face.
A smile on his face? I cocked a brow as I watched him walk to his chair. That was uncharacteristic. Usually, he wore an expression not easily read, frequently mistaken for blank, though I’d spent so much time looking at his face lately I was getting the hang of his subtle cues and emotional tics. He wasn’t the most verbose man in the world, but he chose his words and his expressions carefully.
He cast a glance my way. I couldn’t help but smile widely and lovingly in his direction. He really knew how to make my heart sing, even just by thinking of our times together. The corner of his lips twitched and his smile grew wider for just the barest hint of a moment. It was enough to make my heart leap.
“They’re right behind me,” he grunted to the room as he settled into his chair, legs wide open, hands out and comfortable on the soft fabric.
The doors opened again and the other two popped in, Jaeson and Luka, our Finance Executive and our Editorial Executive, respectively.
“I apologize for our tardiness,” Luka announced, carrying himself with the regal air we’d all become accustomed to. “Unfortunately, we were delayed by rampant indecision.”
“But we’re ready to get down to business,” Jaeson said, rolling up his sleeves, exposing those muscular forearms I enjoyed so much.
There they were, all three of them, settling into their chairs. My three boys, the ones who were all so taken with me for reasons I couldn’t even begin to fathom. All of them had agreed to date me, together, and so far it was a dream.
Until I thought about the looks I got on campus now, and the whispered conversations happening both behind my back and to my face.
“What’s this stuff about rampant indecision?” Cynthia asked, shooting a severe look at Luka. “We make decisions together in this room, do we not?”
“Yes, of course,” Luka said, her glare not putting a dent in his composure. “However, this was a matter we needed to discuss between ourselves, albeit briefly, until we were confident enough in our abilities to absorb any and all ramifications.”
“What he’s trying to say,” Jaeson chimed in, grinning, “is that with all of this renewed attention, we’re thinking about opening the publishing schedule up to more than once a week.”
“Daily, even,” Riot added.
Murmurs rose from all around, mostly excited.
A voice distinguished itself from the crowd, a young woman who seemed to have it out for me almost openly at this point.
