“Okay. I’m gonna shut up now before I ruin everything. Don’t wanna get you all panicky now. Bad shit happens when people panic.”
“I’m not panicking because there is no way I… Right?” Because if I was, fuck me, I was in a lot more trouble than I thought.
She shrugged, her eyes wide, zipping an invisible zipper over her lips.
“Now, you shut up? Jesus, you’re no help. ” I grabbed the tray. “Give me that. I’ll take care of everything. You go back to your desk and think about what you’ve done.”
CHAPTER 31
Gabrielle
Over coffee and anise tea, my normally quiet office became a social club. Fabio was the master of small talk and getting women to lose all inhibitions. He and Rina shared their love for small coffees and exchanged notes on how to make a perfect cortado. I ha-hahed when needed, threw a word here and there, waiting the charming over. Then when Rina and Stacey looked like they were about to pass out from all the laughing and swooning, I took over.
I didn’t expect the workflow between Fabio and me would be that smooth or that he’d take this situation seriously in the first place. I was braced for a disaster, but he seemed to be enjoying his first day at work, and I must admit, he was making my job easier so far.
He grabbed a chair and sat next to me—where Zoey was supposed to sit. I held some papers up to hide my face. “Where’s Zoey?” I mouthed.
“In a corner,” he whispered, leaning in so close his nose skimmed over my temple. “I’m handling this meeting by myself.”
My skin broke into goosebumps. Before I asked him for more clarification, his thigh pressed against mine. A ridiculous zigzag of electricity shot through me, but I managed to glare at him.
His breath tickled my ear. “Not a word. You’ll sit here and let me do whatever the hell I want to you. I own you now.” His hand landed on my knee and slowly glided up my thigh. “Now, be a good girl and get back to work. We got this,babe.”
Stunned, I put the papers down. The feeling of his hand on my leg scattered my thoughts. I didn’t know how to focus or what to focus on. How much of an asshole he was? How much of an idiot I was for thinking he was going to be professional? How it was impossible to make him stop without exposing our lie? How to continue this meeting while he was grabbing me under the desk? How much it fucking turned me on?
Why did that turn me on?
I bit my lip so hard it hurt as his fingers reached under the skirt right above my knee and hiked up the tight fabric as high as they could. Thank God for the pencil skirt. He wouldn’t be able to go any higher. If it did, and he did as much as touching me where he wanted to, I’d come on the spot, in front of everybody, in the middle of the most important meetings in Brighton’s history.
“Are you all right, Gabrielle? You seem a little…flushed,” Rina said.
“I’m fine! Let’s talk books.”
“Yes, please.” He started to trace circles on my knee and inner thigh that made me tremble so hard I had to press my lips to stifle a moan. “I love book talks.”
“Fabio, are you trying to give your boss an orgasm under the desk?” she asked him, and I was about to have a heart attack.
The son of a bitch grinned. “Totally.”
“No! Nope! Not happening.” I jumped to my feet, and his hand fell off me. “Excuse my…Fabio. He likes to joke like that.” I clenched my teeth at him. “I thought we were going to be professional, and you were only the PA here, right?”
He smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” I wiped a hand over my face and exhaled in relief. “Now, about your amazing book, as I understand your previous publisher wanted to make some dramatic changes to the plot, but you were unhappy with them.”
“Exactly,” Rina said. “That’s when Stacey sent Brighton and a few other houses the manuscript.”
“I love the plot and the characters, and I can assure you no expansive editing is required. Once we get the contracts sorted, I’m sure the production would go smoothly to publication.”
“I’m sure about that, too. My only concern is finances. Don’t get me wrong, I love supporting indie presses, but without an adequate advertising budget, the book will tank.”
“If I may ask you, how many other publishers are you negotiating with at the moment?” Fabio asked. “No. Scratch that. Of course, you’re not gonna tell us. What I should ask you, and you should be asking yourself, is what you actually want from a publisher. You already had a big house like Simone Baxter, but you walked away because they didn’t believe in your vision. I don’t think budget is your top demand here. It’sfaiththat you seek more than anything.
“You want an editor that reads the manuscript herself, not because some assistant or marketer moved it up a pile and told her it had potential. You want a woman that feels every emotion, all the blood, sweat and tears you put in your work. You want someone to relate to what you’ve written, not just run numbers.
“Do you think per se a man like Michael Fletcher bothers to even look at the title of a manuscript before his staff has turned it into statistical data?” He snorted. “I bet he’s never finished reading a manuscript on his own his entire life. He doesn’t care about the beauty of your words or the perfect depictions of human emotions you brilliantly put in there. He cares about numbers. But that’s not what you truly care bout, Rina. Not with this book.
“I mean, you’re an established author. You’ve sold over a million books. Heck, if you decided to self-publish, you could make a fortune on your own without any publisher or agent taking any cuts,” he smiled at me and Stacey, “sorry ladies.”
