“Holy shit,” Emma whispered, the floor unsteady under her feet. “This is...”
“Going nuclear,” Leah finished. A slow grin spread across her face. “Honey, this is beyond any PR strategy I could ever have devised. And that’s saying something, because I’m awesome. You and Darren Cole are currently trending in four countries. The US, The UK, and Australia. Plus Sweden, randomly.”
She took the phone back and pulled up the trending tab. There it was. #EmmaWhitehart. Right under #DarrenCole. And just below that: #Colehart.
Emma’s jaw dropped. “They gave us a freakingship name?”
“Oh, I’d say it’s well deserved.” Leah nudged her shoulder. “So, how does it feel? That the man you pictured during all those nightly hours of writing just proclaimed to the world that he adores your book?”
Emma glared at her. “I didn’t actuallybaseLucen on him.”
“Sure,” Leah said smoothly. “You keep saying that. Either way, you do realize our odds of getting him for Lucen just shot into the stratosphere, right?”
“Right.” Emma let out a slow breath. Easy to forget about the professional part when he kept making her feel like a damn swooning damsel. “So, what do we do?”
“Leave that to me,” Leah said, still scanning her notifications like a surgeon mid-op. “You? Back to the hotel. You’ve been on since sunrise, and you look like you might short-circuit if someone so much as asks for an autograph.”
“I’m fine—” Emma started.
“Nope. Not negotiable.” Leah cut her off with a sharp wave of her hand. “Go. I’d recommend an Uber, but take a walk if you need to, you weirdo. Put on pajamas, scroll yourself into a squee-coma, and for the love of all that is holy, do not open your work email. I will literally kill you. Moments like this don’t come back, Emma. Enjoy it. That’s an order.”
Emma gave her a playful salute. Some time to decompress didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Figure out if her nervous system was still functioning.
“Fine,” she said. “But I’m raiding the minibar for chocolate.”
“Good girl.” Leah gave her arm a brief pat, then spun away toward the corridor, already zeroed in on her next task.
And Emma was alone—but she didn’t feel like it.
A trace of Darren lingered with her, alive and vibrating under her skin. Something she wasn’t sure she could shake.
Even if she’d wanted to.
Chapter 14
Flings of the past and faulty Excel sheets.
Neither gives a crap that you just got a ship name.
Emma sat curled up on the hotel bed, phone in hand. Her stage outfit lay draped over the back of a chair, traded for the Ravenclaw pajama pants Leah had mocked her about and a soft, worn T-shirt. Her thumb kept scrolling.
Her and Darren. Over and over again.
There was no sign of the hype slowing—if anything, it was accelerating. Reaction videos had started making it into the feed, with ear-splitting screams when Darren made his reveal. Early fan art. Even links to fanfiction, which was tempting, but...nope, she wasn’t going there.
Maybe later.
Best to bookmark a few just in case.
It was addictive. She realized she was grinning stupidly only when her cheeks were starting to ache.
Until one post sliced through her haze.
Don’t know why everyone is losing their shizz over an obv PR stunt. Cole’s into tiny brunettes, not sturdy blondes. Alana Kelley, anyone?
The post landed like a slap.
She shifted, trying to brush it off. That was the internet for you. Of course, not every post would be supportive and gushing—even reelswith people saving tiny abandoned kittens somehow always managed to rub someone wrong.
