His posture goes rigid. “Mine? What secret?”
“You said you were a fraud too.”
He lowers his head, either in relief or amusement. When his eyes return to mine, there’s mirth in them. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I’m not a fraud when it comes to my romantic experience.”
“Then what are you faking?”
He gives me a cold grin. “My secrets are irrelevant to you. What matters is that I’m trying to do you a kindness. I never should have secured a bargain while you were inebriated, and I’m willing to make up for that. Say the word, and I will dissolve our bet.”
My eyes go wide. “You can do that?”
“I am the fae party in our bargain. I am the reason our bet is magically binding. But, since this is a bet with mutually binding terms proposed by a third party and not a one-sided bargain I constructed, I need your cooperation to end it. Then all I have to do is verbally release you from our bargain, stating that every term is now null and void. After that, we can act like civilized adults.”
Part of me yearns to accept his offer. I already know our bet is madness. I may rail against society’s standards for women, but that doesn’t change that I was raised in human society. Despite all the actions I’ve taken to shrug off the burdens of propriety, I still carry layers and layers of all that society tried so hard to instill within me. There’s a voice that calls me a spinster. Another that labels my past romantic relationshipsunchaste. I hate those voices, yet I shrink from them nonetheless.
But I don’t want to shrink. I want to be bigger than those labels and those voices.
More than anything, I want that contract. If we dissolve our bargain, I’ll have to rely solely on sales. With his head start from the first week of the tour, how can I hope to outsell him? We’ve only had one signing together, but there’s no guarantee that the rest will be better. Even after my readers returned to Flight of Fancy when they learned I’d made it, my turnout was laughable compared to William’s. And what about my research? This bet serves more than one purpose, and I can’t risk losing it now.
I take a bracing breath and meet his eyes. “We’re keeping our bargain.”
His façade cracks and he releases a strained groan. “Damn it, Weenie. Why are you so determined to…to…”
I bristle, certain I know what he’s fighting not to say. “Sully my virtue? Lower my value as a woman?”
“Vex me,” he says through his teeth.
I blink at him, at the anger in his cold blue irises, the tightness in his jaw. My pulse quickens.
He braces a hand on the shelf beside us and leans toward me. “Why do you want the contract so badly, hmm? You’ve already published…what, five books?”
“Seventeen.”
“And at least one was adapted into a stage play. You’re successful, aren’t you? Opportunities abound. Why must you fight me for this contract?”
Anger sears my veins at how he talks about the contract like he has a right to it. He’s the one fightingme. The familiar discomfort writhes in my chest, and I don’t repress the volley of words that spill from my mouth.
“For your information, Willy, I don’t make any money from the titles I publish in Bretton. A few coins here and there. A small print run. I’ve seen no increase in royalties to suggest I’m earning a damn thing for the stage play adaptation. Every manuscript I bring to my publisher ends in haggling and a reminder that I would earn more if I’d write better books. Do you know what my publisher considersbetter books? Literary works with a moral undertone. Cautionary tales. Novels, according to him, make society stupid, and he only agrees to publish them because there is at least some demand. But do you know what would make my work even better? If I were a man. If I’d cease writing about throbbing cocks and simply adopt one between my legs. At the very least, if I would only remove one letter from the end of my name and publish highbrow moral works as Edwin Danforth, I’d be worth something in Bretton.”
He stares at me as if seeing me for the first time, jaw slack, brow furrowed.
I continue. “Do you now see why I might be overjoyed at the chance to be respected asme? Why I’d be willing to do anything to take advantage of an opportunity that might take me out ofobscurity? I’m not wealthy, William. I’ve struggled for every coin I’ve earned and I’ve never tasted fame until now. Do you know what it’s like to have a dream within reach only to have some arrogant bastard saunter in and try to take it away?”
His expression hardens.
“The contract was supposed to be mine from the start,” I say. “You’re not even supposed to be here.”
He scoffs. “You, on the other hand, were supposed to be on time.”
“I was shipwrecked. Well, my ship was caught in a storm—I don’t have to explain this to you. The truth remains that you’re clinging tomytour like a barnacle.”
“You’re wrong,” he says with a shake of his head. “This tour was supposed to bemine. I was offered one months before you even signed with Fletcher-Wilson. It wasn’t in my contract, but a verbal agreement was made. Then my release tanked in sales and the tour was proposed to you. I had to beg Mr. Fletcher in person to reconsider. It just so happened that he’d just received the telegram regarding your delay.”
I frown. “How is it possible your release tanked? Everyone has your book.”
“Because I made it happen in a matter of weeks. I scheduled interviews in every paper across the isle that I could convince to feature me. I made appearances at local bookstores. I inspired sales with my face, my persona. I sparked my book’s rise in the rankings and took that data with me when I pleaded with Mr. Fletcher for a tour. I convinced him I needed more in-person interactions to sell this book to the masses, and I was right.”
I give him a withering look. “You really are seducing your readers. With your face and your persona.”
