Cruel Fortune (Cruel #2)(4)

“I’ll be fine.” I cleared my blurred vision and shook away the stray scraps of him from my imagination. “Anyway, I guess I should probably head inside.”

Amy gave me one last concerned look before nodding. “Damn straight. You’re going to rock this.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to take the tour with me?”

“And give up shopping on Fifth Avenue? Are you crazy?”

I chuckled. “You are an enigma.”

“I’ll look for something nice for you. Maybe some Louboutins of your own.” She winked.

“Don’t you dare!”

Amy cackled. “That’ll be the day.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me.”

“I do.”

“Remember that you’re a star, this book is going to blow up, and they should be wooing you. Not the other way around.” Amy smacked my ass. “Now, get on in there and be the rock star you already are.”

“I’ll meet you for lunch,” I called out to her as she sashayed down Fifth Avenue toward Bergdorf Goodman.

Amy waved her hand in response.

With a deep breath, I yanked on the large gold handle, heaved open the glass door, and entered Warren Publishing. My heels clicked on the white marble floor as I stared, awestruck at the massive entrance. It looked more like a ballroom in a European palace than the foyer of a publishing house. Marble columns lined the room with decorative molding festooned around the perimeter. An enormous domed ceiling was on display high above, painted with a life-sized mural of cherubs enjoying a summer’s day. The entire effect was stunning, if not a bit overwhelming.

“Natalie!”

I startled out of my trance and found my editor, Gillian, striding confidently toward me. She was in her mid-thirties with short, dark hair that swept across her forehead, square black glasses, and bright red lipstick. She was tall and wiry in a straight black pantsuit.

She vigorously shook my hand. “It’s so good to finally meet you! I recognized you right away with that silver hair. I love it. I keep telling my wife to dye her hair that color.”

I reflexively fingered my silvery-white signature locks. I’d dyed it that color in college, and it had stuck. I’d thought about chopping it all off last fall when I got home, but I couldn’t do it.

“Thanks, Gillian. I’m so glad to finally meet you.”

“I feel like we’ve known each other for years,” Gillian said. She gestured for me to follow her out of the main entrance, and we walked toward an array of elevators. “I’m glad we were able to get this to work out.”

“Me too.”

“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” she asked as we stepped into an empty elevator. She pressed a button, and the doors slid closed.

“Nervous,” I admitted.

“Me, too. Always am on release days. Even ones I know are going to go crazy, like yours. The preorder numbers are through the roof, and the early reviews are spectacular. But still…nerves!”

I laughed at Gillian’s effusive manner. We’d had a few calls leading up to this point, and she had always seemed over the top then, too, but she was practically larger than life in person.

“Okay. We don’t have a ton of time for a tour. But I want you to see my favorite things and then meet the team. Sound good?”

I nodded. And as Gillian took me around the various divisions of Warren Publishing, I wondered why I had ever been nervous about it. She was lively and eager to introduce me to everyone. In person, we were as close as we had been on the phone. Everyone seemed excited to meet me. It actually felt like coming home. Like I could just open up my laptop and get to work.

“And this is the Bookshelf,” she said as we stepped up to a small bookshelf lined with forward-facing books. “This is where all the new releases are held.”

And there at the center was Bet on It with its intense blue cover and cleverly placed white letters with a little tagline that read, Based on a true story. At the bottom was the pen name I’d chosen: Olivia Davies.

I’d wanted to use Natalie Bishop. I’d always envisioned my own name on the book, but this book, this one right here, it wasn’t possible. Not when Penn or his mother or any of his friends could pick it up and see it had pieces of what had happened woven into the pages.

So, I’d used my middle name and my mother’s maiden name. It didn’t feel like me quite yet. Even as Gillian introduced me as Olivia to the rest of the team. She knew me as Natalie because we’d worked together for a year, but it wasn’t widely known, and I wanted to keep it that way.

It was why I wasn’t going out on a book tour for this book, to my publisher’s chagrin. I’d agreed to one book party and one signing—no pictures allowed—while I was in the city. Lord help us all that they didn’t ruin everything.

“Would you mind signing it?” Gillian asked, holding out a Sharpie.

I took it reverently and then signed my name on the inside. I’d practiced signing as Olivia, so I wouldn’t mess it up, and seeing it there like that made me glad that I had.

“Magic,” I whispered.

“It’s perfect! Now, let’s head up to our meeting, and then you’ll be free until dinner.”

I placed the book back on the Bookshelf and then followed Gillian upstairs to the meeting room. I braced myself for questions about what I was working on and the lies I was surely going to tell. I had other books that I’d tried to work on. Plus, I had my road-trip book that I had started writing last year. I’d put it aside to work on Bet on It and was glad I’d done so. Now, I didn’t know how to tell them that I had nothing else. That my muse had vanished as swiftly as I’d finished this story.