"Yes," I admit. "That's all I wanted."
He straightens. "I'll have my publicist send a new copy ofBurden's Proofto your office tomorrow. Don't bother with Star's book, Sophia. It's shit."
"I can buy your book." I fish in my purse for my wallet. "I don't expect any favors."
"Consider it a thank you gift."
I stop moving. "For what?"
"For being brutally honest with me about my work."
"Honesty is the best policy, right? If you knew anything about my work, I'd expect you to be honest with me. It's the right thing to do." It's also the rude thing but I'm past that. I insulted his work and I can't say I regret it.
His mouth twitches. "Do you want my honest opinion on your work?"
I force back a laugh but a smile escapes me. "You can't critique something you know nothing about. The only thing you know about me is the fact that I don't like your book."
"Is that so?"
"Yes, that's so." I widen my stance.
"I know that you're too talented of a designer to be sitting behind a desk answering phones all day. You're an assistant at Foster Enterprises when you should be the head of their design department."
"Who told you that?" I ask trying to hide the sudden surprise I feel.
"Your work speaks for itself." He opens the browser on his phone and types in my website address.
My eyes flit over the screen and the images of my two most recent designs. They're maternity dresses, made specifically for Cadence. She's the model although no one would know that. I've always cropped out her face because I don't want her brand to become tangled with mine. My best friend is not only engaged to one of the most talented chefs in all of Manhattan, but she's also a rising culinary star in her own right. She's the host of a weekly food segment on a national morning show. If the world knew that she was the one and only model on my website, it would create a conflict of interest for her.
One of the contractual requirements of her job is that she has to wear an outfit from Bluenix when she's on air. It's a new boutique on Fifth Avenue that's as aggressive with their marketing as they are with their designs. Most of the outfits Cadence has worn have been created by Evlin Dawn. She left Arilia two years ago to launch her own line and she's never looked back. She's only one year older than I am but she's living my dream.
"Why are you an executive assistant?" Nicholas raises his chin and looks down his nose at me. "I'm not a fashion expert but everything on here is stellar. You're wasting your talent."
"It's not that simple." I frown in frustration. "It takes work to be a designer. It can take years to hone your craft. That's what I'm doing now."
"You're hiding behind a poorly designed website. What are you afraid of, Sophia?"
My blood boils, as much for the anger I'm feeling as the embarrassment. He's right. He's hit the nail directly on the head. I'm scared. I'm terrified that my designs will fail. I'm petrified that no one, other than Cadence, will see any value in them.
"I'm not afraid of anything," I lie. "I told you that you know nothing about me. This proves it."
He tugs both books from my hand. "All this proves is that you're an awful liar. You need to learn how to take a leap of faith."
"I know how to do that." I gaze down at the books. "Writing fiction is nothing like designing clothing. You have no right to tell me what I should or shouldn't be doing with my career."
"I have an obligation to speak up when I feel that another artist is doing a disservice to themselves."
"I'm not doing myself a disservice," I hiss. "Maybe you should focus on what you do best and let me focus on what I do best."
"What I do best?" he mimics me, his voice rising to a shrill pitch. "What exactly is that since you don't think I can write a book worth shit?"
"You're a genius at being an asshole." The sight of several women entering the store catches my eye. One is holding a large poster board with pictures of Nicholas attached. A hand-drawn heart surrounds one image of his face. "Your fan club is here, Mark Twain. I'll leave you to it."
"Mark Twain?" He smirks. "Cute, Sophia. They're not my fan club. I asked them to meet me here because the store closed last night before I could sign their books."
I thought I was safe coming to this bookstore since he spent hours here yesterday. This is the last place I expected to see him. "They're obviously eager. You should give them the attention they deserve."
"I'll have that book sent to your office tomorrow." He places both of the books in his hand back on the table. "I hope I'll run into you again, Sophia Reese."
