“Well, our workday is starting,” Emma said. “I bet you’ve got people to smolder at.”
He gave a mock-serious nod. “Right.”
But neither of them moved. For a suspended moment, they just stood in the tinted half-light, the air humming between them. She didn’t want to let him go just yet. Into the chaos, back to everyone else.
Darren finally reached for the curtain. Emma caught his arm. He turned, a hint of surprise crossing his face.
“Darren. Thanks for inviting me. This was . . . fun.”
His eyes softened. “It was.”
Just that.
He went through the curtain first, daylight spilling around his frame as he passed through. Emma lingered a beat before following, heart thrumming as if the tentacles still hovered just behind her.
Something inside her shifted, a thin ribbon of uncertainty stirring through her.
Such a small, simple exchange, and yet it seemed to carry so much more. Like a drop of ink into water—sinking, blooming, impossible to contain.
Chapter 27
The octopus strikes back. This time, he’s got backup.
The line for her book signing was already stretching across the Sails Pavilion when Emma arrived. The soaring space reminded her of a cathedral. Hundreds of voices rose toward the translucent ceiling, which arched in sweeping, tent-like sections.
Leah was at the signing table, straightening the book display with the precision of a royal butler.
“Look at that,” she said. “He actually delivered you on time for once. I might just warm up to him yet.”
Emma gave her a pointed look. “I manage my own time, thank you very much. And it was neither of our faults that a possessed elevator tried to eat us yesterday.”
She was running on coffee, residual adrenaline from the octopus incident—and maybe a little on the echo of their goodbye backstage, just as the first visitors started spilling in on the exhibition floor below. No touches, just a casual “See you around, Whitehart.” But the way he’d looked at her had made it feel like a promise.
She’d dropped her composure in front of him. Revealed her silly, illogical fear.
Emma hated showing weakness, even under the best of circumstances. And a maybe-possibly-semi-date with Darren Cole wasnowhere near that territory. It should have been weird. Mortifying, even.
Yet when she replayed it, there was no embarrassment. Only warmth. His quiet, reassuring steadiness.
“Don’t be so sure,” Leah said, nudging the banners behind Emma’s chair into perfect alignment. “Wouldn’t put it past him to have someone sabotage the elevator in advance, just so he could impress you. He did choose the location. So, what did you two do this morning? Have fun?”
Emma grinned, though not quite ready to admit to the Horridor. “He took me to sit on the Iron Throne.”
Leah groaned. “Oh, dear god. So he ruined all other men for you in one go. Devious bastard.” She pulled out Emma’s chair. “Okay, you all set? Coffee, smoothie, snacks?”
The spread looked like a curated display of its own. Of course Leah had thought of everything. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
“Good. I’m off to a meeting with Kay Bellamy.” She lowered her voice as if she were confiding a state secret, but her face shone with pride. “Kay doesn’t really do meetings. This is uncharted PR territory.”
“That’s amazing,” Emma said, silently wondering what kind of person “didn’t do meetings.” But she didn’t want to ruin Leah’s excitement. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Leah said, snapping her own fingers at her. “Those are for signing. Now turn that charm on, Whitehart. Think of Cole if you absolutely must.”
Emma rolled her eyes as Leah vanished in a whirl of perfume and purpose. She sat, flexed her fingers, and leaned toward the mic.
“Hi, everyone, thank you for coming. I hope you’re not here to interrogate me about book two, because my official answer is: wait and see.”
Excited whispers rippled through the line.
