"What happened after?" My voice sounds foreign to my own ears, too calm, too controlled.
"I don't know." She shrugs, looking forlorn. "I've queried, but all I get is rejection letters. Maybe he was right."
"Is this why you had writer’s block?"
Grace nods. "Yeah, kind of hard to write when you feel like an ultimate failure." She sniffles.
Something snaps inside me.
I want to hurt him for making her feel like this.
I want to make him absolutely fucking miserable.
But first, I need to make sure she knows that she’s not a failure. That shitbag is.
"Listen to me very carefully, Sugar." I press my lips to her temple, speaking low and deliberate. "That man is a predator. Nothing he said was true. Do you understand? Nothing."
"But I wasn’t able to write?—"
"Because he traumatized you. Not because you lack talent." I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes. "You wrote thousands of words this week. Beautiful words that got you so lost you forgot to eat. That's not a terrible writer. That's someone with a gift."
Her lower lip trembles.
"And those women in the hallway?" I wipe tears from her cheeks with my thumbs. "They're jealous, bitter people who have nothing better to do than tear others down. You know what I see when I look at you?"
She shakes her head.
"Strength. Someone who moved to this city with a dream and refused to give up, even when some piece of shit tried to destroy it. Someone who was willing to marry me rather than give up on her dream." I pause, the words feeling inadequate. "Someone who trusted me enough to submit, to let me see parts of herself she keeps hidden from everyone else."
"Asher—"
"I'm not done." My grip tightens. "So you are not going to let some loser with a speck of power make you feel worthless. Do you understand me?"
Her breath hitches, hazel eyes searching mine, and then she nods. When my eyes narrow, she quickly responds.
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. Now give me his full name and where he works."
Grace blinks. "Why?"
"Because I'm going to destroy him."
"Asher, no— You can't?—"
"I'm kidding," I lie to her, but her face softens, believing me. "I just want to see if I know him."
She nods, eyes cast down when she tells me. "Richard Caldwell. He's with the Sterling Agency."
I press a gentle kiss to her lips and pull out my phone, tapping out a message to Charles.
Need full background on Richard Caldwell, literary agent at Sterling Agency.
"Thank you for telling me." I smooth her hair back from her face. "Now let's fix your makeup and get back out there."
"I don't think I can?—"
"Yes, you can." I kiss her forehead. "You walk back out there with your head high, my ring on your finger, and my collar around your neck. You can do that for me, right?"
