Page 10 of Peaches

“Mr. Beckett will be taking over O’Connor Publishing House immediately.”

My eyes flash to hers as I quickly feel the world get torn out from under my feet.

Say what!?

“He’s promised to make good on all standing advances, including yours, as long as you meet your timelines and sign a few new documents. As the new CEO, he’s taken a special interest in proofing each story in its infancy to make sure it aligns with the new company standards. If not, actions will need to be taken as outlined in the contract addendums you will be receiving.”

As if I was just doused in cold water, I jolt backwards out of his arms and grab my stack of documents from his hands. That playful smile of his graces his face for all of two seconds as he watches me, and then it’s all business once again.

Eh, what did she just say?

I turn and look at her, all life completely draining from my face, and I swear it’s also quickly leaving my body as I’m suddenly sensing the fact that I have to face Mr. Inevitable in this equation, a.k.a, the man standing right in front of me.

Excuse me, did she just…

Oh snap, she sure as hell did!

“What kind of actions,” I ask. To Samantha. Not him. But Mr. CEO takes it upon himself to answer anyways. Of course, he does. Why does that not fucking surprise me?

God, I really need to stop giving this man a million nicknames and stick with one.

“I reserve the right to change any part of the document I see fit before it goes to print,” my eyes widen as my face turns and takes him in again.Is he for real?“Regardless of if that is with your imagination or with hiring the help of a ghost writer. All manuscripts will be approved by me, and if I feel a part of the book is say, too cheesy,” he jabs at the genre he knows I write in.Romance is all cheese, Mr. Know it All.Some cheese richer than others.But come on.Us women get off on the cheesy lines and heartwarming predictable plots because even though it is supposed to mimic real life, Mr. Asshole, and the men we encounter in it, bothreal lifeandthe menin question are anything but!

Just like King Douchebag now standing right in front of me.

Again, with the multiple nicknames!

He keeps talking, but hell, I’m not listening. He lost me a long ass time ago. Right after I fell into his arms and snapped myself back into reality.

I close my eyes and try and drown out the sound of his irritating voice, the one stripping my world away, and then smile before a rumble of laughter fills my gut, a giggle escapes my lips, and then hear my laugh begin to hysterically fill the room.

“I’m sorry,” he demands. Not ask. Not insinuate. Demand. As in demand I answer for whatever I just did that was so appalling.

My eyes open up and I realize I’m still laughing as I hug my papers tight to my chest in the middle of my ex-publisher’s office and lose all my shit for both of them to see. Yup, shit show on full display as he glares at me before looking behind him and giving Samantha what I know must be a death stare.

“Oh, no,” I laugh even harder as his eyes train back on me. “It’s not… I mean… It’s just,” I try to explain but can’t as my stomach starts to hurt and I find myself laughing even harder.

It’s his voice.

You know, the one I wanted to drownoutthe sound of it. The damn irony, right? I try to control my laugh that has now somehow subsided to giggles as I throw myself in a large chair to my left and cover my lips. One hand on my papers, one attempting to muffle the noise, I look up and see disappointment etched across his perfect face.

Oh, get it over it, Mr. Too Handsome forHisOwn Damn Good.

Just a few hours ago, I was wanting to drowninthat sexy as sin voice. Get it now? That irony. Let it take me places I never knew existed and sparking the inspiration for the manuscript I now hold in my hands.

Now, I’d do anything to make it shut the hell up. Like shove the entire manuscript I have, that he inspired mind you, down his gorgeous throat right before I stomp out of the room and loose everything, much more than my shit I’ll admit,mylife itself, at the hands of someone I used to think of as myRomeo.

There I go again with the irony!

I bite my lip to keep my giggles at bay and look up sheepishly in his eyes. Well, hell, I guess I kinda need to stick this one out then, huh? If not for me, then for Archie.

But by the looks of the eyes staring back at me, I may have blown my chance at rectifying anything and I’ll be forced to sell my body on the streets of downtown to pay back the money I’ve already spent for a manuscript that now won’t be published.

After all, I have heard Savannah’s been called the Hostess City. I’m not thirty. Might work if it has to. My body isn’t over the hill yet. With any luck, I’d be able to pay back half what I owe the man in front of me by the time I’m forty.

I know I’m kidding myself, but shit, you know whoisn’tkidding? The man standing in front of me, as I still can’t help but laugh as he turns to the woman behind him one more time and says, “Could you give us a minute alone, please?”

I’m not going to lie and say my insides don’t immediately start shaking as I finally shut up and watch the woman I’ve done business with for five years walk out from behind her desk, grab her purse, and start towards the exit.

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