Page 6 of Romancing the Orc

Oh! I always assume he does all of this because he gets a rush from all the adoration, but is he doing it formethis time? To save my awkward butt from further embarrassment? That’s super sweet.

I mouth a thank you and head backstage as quickly as the killer heels will allow.

Sherrie’s waiting to take me to the room set up for my book signing. “See, you did great!”

“Gotta love a dick joke,” I quip. But really, I know the interview only ended well because Brokk saved me, yet again.

The signing is fun. I always do better talking to people one on one, and everyone who shows up loves the books. And if some of the paperbacks carry Brokk’s signature on the inside cover? Well, it no longer stings quite so much.

“Excuse me, Ms. Jade.” A couple of the book-convention organizers approach my table. The one in front holds up her phone, showing the time—I’ve gone over. She raises her voice, “I’m sorry, everyone, but Lara Jade’s already signed for an extra half hour, and we need the room for the next event.”

There are disappointed noises from the people still waiting, but the organizers start to move them out the front as one of them points me toward a door at the back. It’s not the one I came in through, I don’t think. But I’m shit at directions, so maybe I’m not remembering correctly.

When I step through it, a narrow hallway stretches in both directions. I was right—this isn’t the way I came before, but it’s also blessedly empty. I seriously consider taking off the heels and going barefoot.

No wait. Where’s Sherrie? She should be waiting for me. That’s odd. My friend is super professional. She never misses appointments. I try the door, ready to go back into the room and ask for the other hallway where Sherrie must be. Fuck. It’s locked. My hands pat at my butt and hips, as if my phone’s going to magically appear in a pocket this catsuit doesn’t have. But nope—all I got going for me right now is sequins.

I start off down the hall, hoping I’m going in the right direction. I’m not great with that kind of thing—I can get turned around in a grocery store if I don’t pay enough attention, anddon’t even get me started on IKEA. I got lost in an IKEA once—it was like one of those dystopian TV shows where everything looks super pretty, but you know something’s really, really wrong. I wandered through one gorgeous room after the other, ready to live with old, beat-up furniture forever if it meant I got to go home to my tiny apartment.

A door bursts open the moment I get near, and a young man in a cream-colored three-piece suit and a cravat steps out, blocking my way. He’s handsome, in a boyish way, with light brown hair and skin so fair his cheeks are naturally ruddy. Who the hell wears a cravat these days?

I come to a tottering halt, slapping a hand to the wall to steady myself on my heels.

“Ms. Jade,” he says in a super posh British accent. “Just the person I wanted to see.”

“Um, hi.” I give a little wave and try to edge past him. “I’m sorry, but you’ve just missed the signing.”

Two bodybuilder types wearing dark suits and sunglasses step out into the hallway. They take up position on either side of the first man, standing with feet shoulder-width apart, arms crossed over their wide chests, blocking the way entirely. One’s blond and the other’s brunet, like he opened up a bodyguard catalog and purchased a contrasting set.

“I don’t want a signature, Ms. Jade,” the posh man says. “I’m Elton Edgerton the Third.” He pauses as if waiting for some kind of reaction.

I offer him a weak smile.

“The billionaire. The tech genius.” He strikes a pose, chin resting on his knuckles as he stares thoughtfully into the distance. “I was onTime Magazine’s cover last month.”

“They still print that?” I blurt.

The pleasant expression falls from his face. “Ms. Jade, I want to hire you to activate a magical artifact in my possession.”

Oh, shit. This guy’s seriously delusional. Magic’s not real.

“Okay.” I take a step back, trying to keep my face neutral. “That sounds so,sofun.” I hide a wince and take another step. God, could my voice sound any faker? “But I don’t know how to do magic. I just write about it.”

“I really wish you’d said yes.” He sighs.

Oh, good. My shoulders drop in relief. He’s going to let me go.

“Get her.” Elton gestures the goons forward.

“What?” I squawk and skitter backward, tripping over the stupid heels.

This time, the guy who catches me makes my heart skip for a completely different reason than Brokk ever did. I open my mouth to scream, and the goon slaps a meaty paw over it.

The other one shoves a rag smelling sweet and chemically over my nose.

As the world goes dark, one final hazy thought swims to the surface of my mind. It’s too bad Brokk’s just a cover model. If he were actually an orc warrior, he could come and save me for real this time.

CHAPTER FOUR

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