Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I couldn’t believe I’d been spoken to that way. I was annoyed with this woman, but the person I was really angry with was Derek Hamilton because he had me jumping through hoops just to have five minutes of his time.
I turned around but stopped when I almost collided with the man standing behind me. With dark hair, brown eyes, and a chiseled jaw covered with a sexy stubble of hair, he was in jeans and a t-shirt, his eyes narrowed and focused on my face.
“Sorry…I didn’t see you there.”
He was still as a statue, not even blinking, just looking at me with a gaze full of subtle hostility. He was tall and lean and muscular, his nice arms stretching the sleeves of his shirt. His shirt was flat against his chiseled stomach, and his jeans hung low on his hips. He was young, maybe a few years older than me. I was surprised he was standing there…and also because he was one hell of a hunk.
I didn’t know what to do because our eyes were locked and he still seemed angry even though I’d apologized for almost colliding into him. “Alright, then.” I finally gathered my bearings and stepped around him.
As I walked away, I heard the mail lady speak to him when he came to the counter.
“Hello, Mr. Hamilton. Here’s your mail.”
I abruptly turned around and watched him carry a few envelopes to the elevator. He had a satchel over his shoulder, and he stopped in front of the elevator as he waited for the doors to open. He looked through his mail, shuffling through the envelopes, and he acted like nothing had just happened.
What a jackass.
He’d overheard that conversation and knew it was me, but he didn’t acknowledge it at all.
The doors opened, and he stepped into the elevator. He hit the button then continued to go through his mail.
I quickly darted across the lobby and dashed into the elevator before the mail lady could figure out what was happening. I made it just in time, sliding through the closing doors before they registered my body and opened again.
Derek Hamilton didn’t acknowledge me.
The elevator started to move, and I noticed he’d hit the top floor, floor seventy.
I stared at him.
The guy was oblivious.
“Uh, hi?”
He stared at one envelope in particular for a long time, slowly turning toward me while barely pulling his gaze away from the words on the page. Then he finally severed the connection to the envelope and met my look. The hostility didn’t have to return because it was constantly in his expression.
He was not at all what I’d pictured. I’d never imagined someone so young could write something so remarkable. And I’d never imagined he would be so goddamn handsome either. How could someone who wrote such an amazing story be devoid of all emotion? How could someone who wrote about perseverance and determination be so cold? Did he have a ghostwriter or something?
“I don’t appreciate the way you’re ignoring me, Mr. Hamilton.”
His eyes were open and expressionless. Seconds passed and he didn’t say a word, like he preferred silence to the spoken word. “I don’t appreciate you showing up at my home and breaching my privacy.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you took my calls and responded to my emails. Mr. Hamilton, you signed a contract with us. If you continue to be difficult, we can withdraw your advance and freeze your royalties.”
“I didn’t take an advance.”
He didn’t?
“If you were good at your job, you would have known that.”
Wow…
He turned back to his envelope, like this conversation was over.
“We can freeze your royalties.”
“I don’t care.”
“What?” I asked incredulously. “How do you plan on paying your bills with no income, Mr. Hamilton?”
The doors opened, and he stepped into the hallway.
I followed him. “Mr. Hamilton?”
He moved to his front door and pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Look at where I live. You think I need your royalties?” He got the door unlocked and stepped inside.
I should just leave and tell my boss everything that had happened, that our client was being completely unresponsive and we’d have to take legal action against him since he’d failed to provide us what he promised and he wouldn’t even provide an update. But if I did that, this book may never get written…and it would be a disappointment to all his readers. When I was offered the job at Astra Books, the only reason I’d left my publisher was because Derek Hamilton would be my client—and his stories meant the world to me.
I took a pause to calm my emotions, to turn into the pragmatic person I needed to be to deal with this very difficult man. “Mr. Hamilton?”
The door shut in my face.
“Breathe…just breathe.” I knocked on the door. “Eye on the prize.”
No answer.
I knocked again. “Mr. Hamilton? Please talk to me.”