"Janine, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to speak with Miranda. If that's okay with you."
Janine glances at Miranda, a look of concern on her face that makes my fucking blood boil, and Miranda just nods.
"Okay, well, Miranda, it was so nice getting to know you a little better." She takes Miranda in a hug and holds her for a few moments before pulling back, her hands still holding each of her fragile little arms. "If you need anything, anything at all, I'm a phone call away." She lets go and walks right past me to the front door, her finger up and curling for me to follow.
I reluctantly do and meet her just outside the front door. She shuts it just as a cold breeze sweeps around the corner of the house.
"Edwin…" she starts. I fight the urge to head back in and slam the door in her face. "You gotta take it a little easier on her. She hasn't written seven best sellers—"
"Eight," I interrupt.
She rolls her eyes, and I envision her head clamped in a vice as I turn the handle ever so slowly, watching her eyes bulge out from their sockets.
"Yeah, okay, eight. Eight best sellers. She's not in her thirties. She's a young woman still figuring herself out. I've been married to three different cheating assholes. I ate shit for five years with each of them so that I could take them for everything they were worth when it was all said and done. And I did just that. Me"—she points at her chest—"I can handle your shit. But give her a break, okay? She's… I don't know… fragile."
"I will do that. I've already planned on it. Just know, Janine, you've been with me a long time now, and I like your work, I do, but if you ever talk to me like that again, I'll fire your ass." I glare at her, maintaining eye contact for a moment before turning to open the door.
"Edwin, my dear, if I had a dollar for every time you said you'd fire me or did in fact 'fire me,' I wouldn't even have to work for you anymore." She laughs, making her way to the Camaro, and before I can respond, she hops in and starts it up. Bieber's preteen vocals once again tarnish the beautiful country silence.
I shake my head, flicking her off before closing the door to three long honks of her horn.
Miranda is standing in the office when I come in the house, her gaze fixated out the bay window. She turns her head just slightly when the floorboards creak beneath my feet, and the light hits her face just right. So right that it stops me dead in my tracks. I take her in. The soft, delicate look of her skin, pale—not in a sickly way, but like porcelain, rich and alluring. A living muse. She turns completely now, a wrinkle of confusion in her brow.
"Sorry, I don't mean to stare. It's just… in that light… you truly inspire."
She smiles politely but instinctively looks at her feet.
I take a few steps forward, drawing her eyes again. "Though I will stow the urge to write away for a bit. I have something for you."
I walk past her, my arm brushing hers, and a sudden, smoldering desire takes hold deep in my gut. I fight the urge to take her into my arms and destroy her—with my lips and my cock—and proceed to the desk as planned instead. I pull a small duffel bag from beneath it and place it on top, smiling at her as I do. She raises an eyebrow in confusion but with a look of intrigue at least.
"I have a present for you…" I motion to the duffel bag then walk to the closet across the room. After opening it, I pull out a long, bulky bag housing a folded up tent and set it against the wall.
This draws even more confusion from Miranda, her brow furrowing and eyes narrowing. I can't help but smile at the thought of knowing something she doesn't. I like having secrets… big ones and small.
"Two presents, I guess," I say, making my way back to her.
"I'm so confused," she mutters, her eyes shifting from the duffel bag to the tent.
"You won't be for long, but before I go into your first gift, I, um…" My eyes drift from hers. I fucking hate apologies. Janine's annoying, Jersey-tainted voice rings in my ears, and that alone makes me cringe. But I have a job to do and a book to write. If I'm to ensure that happens, this is where it starts. "I just want to tell you how sorry I am. My actions… I… I was out of line. I know you're new to this industry and all, but I can't tell you what these deadlines can do to a person. They loom over you, breathing down your neck, suffocating you…" My voice trails involuntarily as my gaze fixes out the window, across the pines. "She's a ruthless, daunting little bitch. And she's waiting for your ass whether you like it or not."
Looking back over, I see that I have all of her attention now. Her eyes are full of understanding, and she nods slowly.