Not My Romeo (The Game Changers #1)(88)

“Can’t help it. My managing editor of our historical line just resigned, and I thought of you. You were one of my best editors, authors adore you, and I figured you might want to move back to where the fashion world really is.”

I grin. “Dangling fashion as a carrot.”

“Worth a shot. Fashion industry has to be ridiculous in Tennessee.”

“You have no idea.” I’ve given up for the time being, just taking one day at a time.

“You could have say over all manuscripts, hiring and firing, deadlines, schedules, and a nice fat salary. What do you make these days?”

“It would make you weep.”

He laughs. “See. Come back to New York. My wife will help you find an apartment. She loves you.”

Oh, he’s a smooth one, bringing up Cora, his adorable wife, who fed me more than once at their apartment on the Upper East Side.

“You talk sweet, but . . .”

“Damn. You actually love that place, don’t you?”

I giggle. “It’s crazy. Mama is still driving me up the wall, and God, wait until I tell you about—”

I stop. I almost brought up Jack. My chest twists. I should be able to talk about us.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just excited about a new play.”

“You love those. Right. Listen, let me send you the job description, and you take a look at it and get back to me. Maybe fly up here, take a look at the department, see what you think?”

My eyes land on Jack as he throws the ball to Timmy.

“Daisy is home now, Marvin.”

Even if Jack and I don’t work out, I love this place.

A long exhale comes from him. He munches on a chip. “Okay, there’s something else, and I swear it has nothing to do with the job offer.”

“Okay.”

“You remember that book we published a while back, Sophia Blaine’s story, The Real Jack Hawke?”

“Piece of trash.”

“Ah, well, yeah, you were here when she came to New York and met with our team.”

“I didn’t meet with her. That wasn’t my department.” Uneasiness fills my gut. Two weeks ago after Jack saw Sophia, he came back strange, asking me if there was anything I should tell him, and while my former job did cross my mind, I stayed quiet. I’d told him I used to edit romance. Surely, it wouldn’t matter.

“Right, right, but you are seeing him, Elena. Hell, I barely keep up with football, but my son does, and he told me he saw you in that video and a photo on a morning show.”

I frown. “What does that have to do with anything? My personal life is private.”

“I know, but Carla Marsden—you remember her—she handled that book, and she saw the video too. She came in and asked if I’d give you a call—”

“Marvin! I’m not telling her anything about Jack! I’m not Sophia Blaine.” My voice has risen, and Jack darts his eyes at me, a questioning look on his face. I smile and turn to the side, putting my face away from him. “It’s not cool for you to even ask me about him.”

“Agreed. I don’t like it, but she asked because she knows you and I are close. And she doesn’t want you to write some nutty book about Jack. She wants his story. She was never thrilled with Sophia, even though that book sold like hotcakes—”

“His story is his. Why are you asking me?” My tone is aggravated.

“Because nobody can get close to him. His agent doesn’t take publishers’ calls for him. His PR guy doesn’t respond to anything from Carla. No one even has an address for Jack to mail an offer. She can’t get through.”

“For a reason!”

He sighs. “But if he did want to tell his story, she wants it. And she’s using me to get to you, and shit, I’m sorry. I’ve totally fucked up this convo when I really would love to have you back at Blue Stone.”

My hands tighten around the phone. “Tell her I barely know him, Marvin.”

And that stings, even though I know that isn’t true. I do know him.

But I don’t know what we are.

“You’re pissed at me.”

I sigh. “You offer me a job, then throw that at me?”

“But I offer you a job all the time, Elena. I meant that. I only brought him up because her department is bigger, and she’s foaming at the mouth to talk to him.”

And underneath his big smile, he’s a publisher. A good one.

“Would you get a cut if Jack signed with Blue Stone through me, Marvin?”

“Don’t know. Maybe. Yeah.”

I swallow, feeling shaken, just now realizing the ramifications of that video, how terrible for Jack to never have even an ounce of privacy. And Marvin is my friend—yet here he is, using me to get to Jack.

“I’m angry with you,” I say tightly, lowering my voice to a whisper.

He sighs heavily. “Yeah. Cora said you’d be. But I had to try.”

I circle back to Carla Marsden, whispering, “Tell her what I said tonight, and don’t call me for a while. Goodbye, Marvin.”

I end the call.

“Who the fuck is Marvin?”

I twist around on the stage. Jack stands on the floor about five feet away, his face stony, his eyes dark and hard.