Page 175 of Smoke and Fire
“That seems for the best.”
The absolute neutrality of her tone stymied me. Obviously, she’d been checking on things. What did she think of it? Her expression didn’t give me a single clue. I deeplywanted her to like it.
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “He . . . let’s just say he needed some help. I believe he cares about his readers but doesn’t know what to do with them.”
She blinked three times before her entire manner softened a bit.
“Yes,” she said with finality. “He does. You have done well. I wanted to meet you and see if you needed anything while he’s out on the fire. It can’t be easy trying to figure out what must surely be a mess while he’s constantly throwing himself into danger.”
A hint of a blush rose to my cheeks. While figuring out his business hadn’t been simple, it hadn't been arduous. Bastian had been more accessible than expected. Priyanka must still be under the belief that Bastian and I hadn’t had any communication.Iwasn’t going to tell her otherwise.
“It’s been fine," I said. "A few details to sort out while I read through the series, but it’s manageable.”
Her voice piqued. “You hadn’t read the series?”
“No.”
“Then how did he meet you?”
“I work at the coffee shop in Pineville. He met me there when he got off his last fire.”
The sharp look that filled her eyes told me everything I needed to know. She knewexactlyhow sketchy my hiring had been. I didn't blame her for her concern.
“Are you qualified for this work?” she asked.
I laughed. “Not at all.”
“Hmmm.”
My amusement died in the face of her lacking response.
“Well, a little,” I quickly said. “I did secretarial work before this job, then promoted to manager of a store, and I love social media. But do I do this specific thing for a living? Not before Bastian.”
She looked off the screen to something—or someone—then nodded and turned back to me. Assessment had returned to her gaze. I forced myself to hold it because, deep down, I could admit that I wanted Priyanka to like me. Why it mattered, I couldn’t fathom.
At the least, I appreciated that she must be one of the only people he consistently spoke to. Business relationship or not, she had insight into Bastian and he respected her.
For a guy like him, that meant something.
“Are you answering emails for him?” she asked. This time, I blinked several times. What had the defensive note in her voice meant?
“Well, yes, but . . . I’m not pretending to be Jess, if that’s what you mean. I sign the emails as her assistant.”
She hesitated. “Oh?”
I shrugged. “I’m just responding to the emails that I can help, like people that ask for PR opportunities or questions about the books or availability or translations. That sort of thing. The people who reach out to Jess personally are left for Bastian to respond to.”
“And are you doing interviews for Jess?”
“Written ones that he's sort of pre-filled out. If I don't know the answer, I try my best guess. Sometimes he can text, so I send him the weird questions that no one on planet earth knows the answer to.”
“No podcasts?”
I shook my head, incredulous. “No! Of course not. I . . . I’m not Jess. I refused. I couldn’t take that on.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” The question came out of me before I could stop it. My gaze tapered. Although she’d given me no direct condescension, I felt it all the way through her tone. “Because I’m not sure you do.”
