"That's a hot market these days." He leans in with interest.
I shrug. "It's growing, for sure." I don't argue that romance has always been a hot market and that women have always, and will always want to, read love stories.
"Have you published anything? Do you have an agent?"
"Not yet, and not anymore." I'm not sure why I phrase it like that instead of just saying no, but James latches onto the subtext.
"Who were you with?" His eyes narrow curiously.
I hate saying his name. But I swallow the lump in my throat and tell James the truth. "Richard Caldwell."
"Oof." His expression changes instantly, twisting with distaste. "You might have dodged a bullet there."
My face must show my confusion.
"You didn't hear what happened?" James asks, and I shake my head. He steps in closer, whispering the details. "He was just let go from Sterling. Apparently, he has a long history of abusing women, and he's being sued for it. I don't know all the details, but it sounds like they have a strong case."
My intake of breath is sharp.
There are others.Other women who Richard pulled the same stunt with. My fingers itch for my phone. I want to look up the case and devour every detail. I want to stand in awe of the women who were brave enough to do what I couldn't.
"I mean, the man always had a reputation about him, but…" He whistles. "This is not good for him."
"Wow," I manage to say.
"He blackballed them all. Told every contact he had not to touch them. Poor girls."
My chest aches. Is that why I have a stack of rejection letters? My throat burns at the realization that one moment of my life changed the trajectory of everything. Am I even a bad writer, or was he just bitter?
"We publish some romance at Rock Media." James changes the subject. "I can read what you have or pass it along to some of my colleagues if you’re interested."
Fear and hope collide inside me. I'm terrified of letting someone read my work, of letting it leave the cozy cocoon of justus. But then again, James is standing before me, offering what could be my big break.
"I think I'd like that."
He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a crisp white business card. "Send it over."
Before I can respond, a familiar presence materializes beside me. Asher's hand finds the small of my back, possessive and warm.
"Rock." His voice carries cool politeness with an underlying edge. "Enjoying the evening?"
"Caine, congratulations on the marriage." James doesn't step back immediately. "I was just telling Grace how much I'd love to read her current work."
"Were you?" Asher's tone could frost glass. His fingers spread against my back, a subtle claim of ownership.
"Yes, we were discussing her writing." James maintains his warm smile directed at me. "Seeing if maybe we can connect her with a new agent since her last one turned out to be a predator."
"Is that right?" Asher's voice remains neutral, but something shifts in his posture. The hand on my back stills. "I'm sure karma has a way of catching up with men like Caldwell."
The way he says it—so measured, so deliberate—sends a chill through me that has nothing to do with the air-conditioning. I glance up at him, searching those steel-gray eyes for confirmation of the suspicion forming in my mind.
"Indeed, it does," James agrees, oblivious to the undercurrent. "Well, I see Senator McKenzie over there. Should probably say hello before he leaves." He extends his hand to me. "Grace, lovely meeting you. I'll look forward to that manuscript."
"Thank you," I manage, shaking his hand.
James nods at Asher. "Caine."
"Rock."
