Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
"I need names," she growls.
"The only two people who had access are my assistant and my girlfriend," I mutter wearily. "Samantha signed an NDA, and she's been my assistant for five years."
"And your girlfriend?"
"She wouldn't have done it," I say, my voice flat…deadly.
"I need a name, River," Roni says impatiently. "The whole upper floor is currently losing its collective shit over this. I need to give them something."
"Her name is Jasmine, but you aren't giving them her name, Roni," I say, climbing to my feet. "If you do, I'll spend every fucking dime I have voiding our contract so those pages are the only part of this manuscript anyone ever sees."
I've already sent Jasmine to jail once. I'll be damned if I let my publisher threaten to do it a second time over something she didn't do.
"We need to do something."
"No, I need to do something," I snap. "And I will. Just give me the day, please. I'll have answers for you by morning."
Silence rings down the line, and then Roni mutters a curse. "Fine. You have until morning, River. And then I'm putting our legal team on it. The series is under contract with us. They didn't just fuck you over when they leaked these pages. They fucked us over, too. It's nowhere near publication-ready."
She hangs up before I can say anything else.
"That went well," Alice mutters dryly.
I shoot her a dark look.
"It did," she says. "Trust me. She isn't threatening to sue you, and she's giving you until the end of the day to find out who to sue. Usually, she's a pit bull."
"I don't need a pit bull right now," I mutter. "I need to find my fucking assistant."
Alice's face falls. "You think it was Sam?"
Do I?
I don't know, but I know in my bones that it wasn't Jasmine. Who the fuck else could it be if not Sam? I don't know, but the fact that Sam is avoiding my calls isn't giving me high hopes here.
Chapter Twelve
Jasmine
"Ihate this stupid coffee machine," I growl, glaring balefully at it when it gurgles and steam rises, but no coffee comes out. I jab the button, then jab it again. Still nothing. "Argh!"
"Well," Lilah says, plopping down onto a stool across from me. "Someone's cranky today."
I scowl at her across the bar. "We need a new coffee machine."
"Or, and I know this is a crazy idea," she says, "but you could put a pod in it."
"What?"
She nods at the pod receptacle.
"Oh, fucking hell," I growl, snatching a pod from the lazy Susan and dropping it in. I press the lid closed, and then wait. Almost instantly, hot coffee starts pouring into the mug. "Finally."
"What's up with you today?" Lilah asks.
"Nothing."
"Liar. You've been in a mood all day."
"Have not."
"Are you really going to make me drag it out of you?" she asks.
I squeeze my eyes closed and then sigh. "Fine. River is in Los Angeles today. He was supposed to call me hours ago, but I haven't heard from him all day." He isn't answering my texts, either. Not a single one all day.
"You're thinking about your dad," she says, reading me like a book.
"No, of course not." My shoulders slump. "Okay, maybe a little. Rationally, I know River isn't doing anything he shouldn't be doing. He's meeting with his editor. I guess not hearing from him just reminded me of all the times my dad would go out of town 'on business', promise to call my mom, and then be too busy fucking his mistress to bother."
"River isn't your dad, Jasmine."
"I know." I busy myself dumping cream and sugar into my coffee. Rationally, I know he wouldn't ever do anything like that. But he isn't here right now, and I miss him. It's making me a little irrational. "I just feel off today."
"You miss him."
I jerk my chin in a nod.
"You're in love with him."
"Yes," I whisper.
"Does he know that?" my best friend asks.
"I haven't told him."
"What? Why not?"
"Maybe because I've never said it to anyone before and I keep trying to find the perfect moment, but all the perfect moments are when he's inside me," I admit. "And that feels like such a fucking cliché time to confess."
She laughs abruptly, making me scowl. "Who the fuck cares if it's cliché, Jazz? You know why people say it in bed? Because they get to spend the rest of their lives, remembering the way it felt to be that intimate and that vulnerable at the same time," she says. "Who the fuck cares if it's cheesy? It's your life and your relationship."
"Yes, and if he breaks my heart while he's inside me, it'll be so much worse." I am not emotionally prepared for him to be inside me, me say it…and him not say it back. That's a level of heartbreak I'll never recover from.