King of Pride (Kings of Sin, #2)(98)

“Let me see the email.” Sloane studied the message after I handed it to her. “This is her. Right email, right signature. She always signs off in all lowercase with her last initial, no period. It’s not something people outside the industry would know.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” My pulse thundered as the implication of what she was saying sank in.

Not a scam. “Unless she hacked into my computer, there’s no way she could’ve gotten a hold of those chapters.”

“Did you show your manuscript to anyone?” Alessandra asked.

“No, I…” My sentence trailed off, subsumed by an unbidden memory.



I’m not sure whether it counts as a gift since I can’t guarantee it’s good, but you wanted to read it…

“Kai,” I whispered.

A deep, unsettling ache reverberated in my chest.

He hadn’t said a word about my book after I gave him the sample chapters. Why would he submit them to an agent without telling me?

“Because he thinks it’s good, Isa,” Vivian said softly, and I realized with a start I’d voiced my thoughts aloud. “You know Kai. He wouldn’t have shown it to anyone if he didn’t stand behind it.”

Not just anyone, but the one. The biggest agent in the genre.

Sloane returned my phone. I took it, my throat aching with unshed tears.

It wasn’t just about Kai or Jill. It was about the fact that someone believed in me. Enough to send my manuscript out when I didn’t have the courage to do it myself; enough to take the time and give detailed notes when her inbox must be flooded with similar queries.

Kai always said he had faith in me, but seeing him act on it was different from simply hearing it.

I’d spent so many years internalizing my failures that I didn’t trust anyone who didn’t confirm my insecurities. There was comfort in the familiar, even if the familiar sucked. Being small was easier than putting myself out there for other people to judge.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sloane’s voice dragged me back to the café.

I swallowed my tears and blinked, trying to reorient myself to the present. “What?”

“Jill’s request for a revise and resubmit.” She nodded at my phone. “I skimmed the notes. There aren’t many. You could probably knock out the edits in a week.”

“What a coincidence,” Alessandra said innocently. “You also have the next week off at Floria.

I’m…taking a work-free vacation.”

A frown bent my brows. “Didn’t you just go on vacation over the holidays?”

“Isa!” Sloane, Alessandra, and Vivian’s groans formed an exasperated chorus.

“Okay, okay! I get it.” A trickle of exhilaration leaked into my blood, erasing some of my melancholy. Ruby Leigh’s agent wanted my revised manuscript. Why the hell was I still sitting here?

“Do you guys mind…I have to…”

“If you don’t leave right now, I’m pushing you out the door myself,” Vivian said. “Go!”

“Good luck!” Alessandra called after me. “Drink lots of caffeine!”

I waved at them over my shoulder as I rushed out the door. I almost knocked over a passing couple in my haste to catch the next train home and rushed out an apology. The guy yelled something at me, unappeased, but I didn’t bother stopping.

I had a book to edit—and finish.

For the next week, I camped out at the local coffee shop during the day and guzzled energy drinks at my desk at night.

Was it healthy? No. Was it effective? Yes.

Jill didn’t give me a deadline for the resubmission, but I didn’t want to risk falling into a creative rut again. I needed to finish the edits and the rest of the book while I was still riding high from her email.

I’d been so in my head about the book that it took the validation of a neutral, professional third party to break my creative dam. The words gushed out like a broken fire hydrant, and exactly six days and eight hours after I opened Jill’s email, I replied with my full, revised manuscript. It was risky, considering she hadn’t asked for the full book, but I was tired of playing it safe. No risk, no reward.

“Do you want another latte?” Charlie, my favorite barista, picked up the half dozen empty mugs crowding my table. It was almost seven p.m.; I’d been here since eight in the morning. “We’re closing in ten minutes, but I can whip you up one last drink.”

“No, it’s okay.” I leaned back, lightheaded with disbelief as I stared at the email chain on my screen. I had to wait for Jill’s follow-up, but my book was out there. There was no taking it back.

“I’m done for the night.”

I’d wanted to finish my manuscript for so long. Now that I was done, I felt an inexplicable twinge of sadness. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed writing. Getting to know the characters, letting them take me on their twists and turns, building an entire freaking world—it was incomparable to anything else I’d ever done.

“You sure? It’ll be on me. I owe you.” Charlie gave me a bashful smile. “I, um, proposed to my girlfriend. In Tagalog. And she said yes.”

“Oh my God!” I shot up straight again. I’d been teaching him random Tagalog phrases every time I came in, but I hadn’t thought much about him asking how to say Will you marry me? He’d also asked me how to say I’m a defensive lineman in the NFL, which he most definitely wasn’t. “That’s incredible. Congratulations!”