5
Archie
I’m a bit bleary-eyed as I arrive at Hamish's because I stayed up late reading the fifteen chapters he sent me of his new Orion King novel. I made notes, but as I make coffee for us both, I decide I can't actually share them with him. I take the coffee through to the office and put his mug on the coaster beside him. He grunts a thank you, and I edge away to sit at my desk. I turn the computer on. Maybe I don't need to mention it at all.
“Did you read it?”
My shoulders slump. I spin around on my chair. “Yes, it was great.”
“Liar.”
I gape at him.
“Dinnae fuckin’ lie to me.” His voice whips through me, smarting as surely as a clip across the ear would have done.
I dip my chin.
"There was no point giving it to you to read if you weren't going to be honest. I don't like liars," he adds, his tone dropping to an angry note.
I shiver not from fear but from a combination of shame and being turned on by the cadence of his voice.
“Sorry, sir.”
His lips twitch into a slight smile. It's clear he likes it when I call him sir. I should probably make an effort never to say it again, but it falls out of my mouth so easily when I'm around him. Every time he snaps at me, he arouses my need to be subservient.
“What did you really think?”
I take a breath. What’s the worst that can happen? Oh, that’s right, he could sack me on my second day. “It’s obvious you weren’t enjoying writing the story.” I wince.
“How can you tell?”
“There was no energy in it. It felt like you were writing by rote rather than from the heart. The plot was almost identical toKing’s Folly, but it’s lacking depth.”
He arches an eyebrow.
“I’ve read all your books,” I mumble.
“Go on.”
Does he really want me to tear his book to shreds? “I’m used to all your characters feeling like real people, but in this book, they’re more like caricatures. Especially the villain. I…”
He stares at me, the muscles around his eyes twitching.
“I keep expecting him to start twirling his moustache,” I admit.
Hamish begins to laugh. I’m captivated by the way the deep sound makes his chest shake. I pinch my lower lip with my teeth, mentally undressing him, even though I shouldn’t. I bet his chest is covered in hair.
“So what you’re saying is that it’s a pile of shite?”
“I…no.”
“It’s fine. I know it is. But I don’t have time to start over.”
“Isn’t that better than trying to finish something you’re not enjoying writing?”
“A deadline’s a deadline.”
"But you're Hamish Cameron. Surely you can tell your publisher you need more time!" Damn, I shouldn't have said that. "Sorry." I press my lips together, my chin quivering.
