Page 104 of Claim to Fame

“Duty,” the knight answered instantly.

“What of your duty to her?”

“My lord, we would never be free of the stain of having betrayed you.”

“And so instead you shall live with the stain of betraying your love for each other.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“He’ll be here.” Micah tilted his head meaningfully towards the cell phone clutched in Hannah’s hands.

“Sure,” she said, setting the phone down.

Though the ‘he’ she was hoping to hear from was not the ‘he’ she and Micah were waiting for.

The night before, during her third re-listen ofThe Lady’s Knightsin as many weeks,Hannah had received a message from Ethan. The first message since their terse exchange confirming she’d arrived home in New York safely three weeks before. He’d sent a photo of a milkshake with three little words that had tilted her world on its axis and had her stomach in knots:Thinking of you.

She wanted to be furious. The absolute gall on this man to send herthatmessage after the way they’d left things.

And yet…

Instead she’d sent back a screenshot of her audiobook app.You too, she’d written.

And then nothing. Crickets.

Thinking of you.What was she supposed to do with that? And what did hewanther to do with it? And did she even care what he wanted anymore?

Of course, you do, you glutton for punishment.

“Howard’s always at least ten minutes late,” Micah said, pulling her thoughts back to the ‘he’ she should be focused on. “It’s a power move.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “Because being an old white dude isn’t enough of a power move.”

“Hannah, darling!” Howard King’s booming voice thundered through the quiet café at the edge of the theater district. Half the eyes in the room turned to take in the eccentric director where he stood in the doorway, his arms spread wide and head cocked to the side in an affectation of warmth. “There’s my little star,” he announced as he made his way towards them.

Hannah greeted Howard with a kiss on each cheek. “Always good to see you, Howard.”

“And Micah, it’s been too long.” Howard clapped Micah in a handshake-hug hybrid that looked uncomfortable at best. “Sit, sit. Mustn’t draw too much attention to ourselves. I’m sure you’ve already had plenty of that,” he said to Hannah with a wink and a smarmy grin.

Her smile was more like a grimace, but she couldn’t summon the desire to play the part of the fawning ingenue. Not anymore. Not when Ethan hadn’t texted her back in eighteen hours and thirteen minutes.

“We were so glad to get your call,” Micah said, nudging Hannah. “Word on the street is you’ve been tapped for another limited run revival at Lincoln Center this fall.”

“Oh, that,” Howard said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “What are we drinking? I could kill for a matcha latte.”

Hannah dug her fingernails into her palm as Howard flagged down the harried waitress and placed his order, including specific instructions about the exact temperature the cup should be before his latte was poured. To her credit, the waitress’ smile never faltered, though Hannah had the distinct impression she’d be spitting in Howard’s drink.

“Now, where were we?” Howard asked, turning back to Hannah and Micah. “That’s right, your recent popularity. Or was it notoriety?” He laughed. “I do always get those two confused.”

“Press interest has died down now Hannah’s back in the City where she belongs,” Micah said.

“You know how I hate a media scandal.” Howard shot Micah a pointed look. “Whoever said ‘there’s no such thing as bad press’ never worked in the theater. Not that your little film debut seems to have been hurt too badly, though I suppose that has more to do with Jackson Hayes and his devotees.”

“Hannah’s performance inBridget Jones’ Musicalhas been very well received. There have been rumors of a Drama Desk nomination,” Micah added.

“There have?” That was news to her.

Micah’s eyes widened, a silent signal to sit there and be silent—exactly the way Howard liked all his actresses.

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