Chapter 10
ten
FRANCIE
“I don’t hate this part,” Alice says, tapping her lacquered fingernail against her laptop screen like it’s a metronome of doom as we sit in her Manhattan office, stacks of manuscripts teetering on every flat surface.
“But I also don’t love it. And with this deadline…
” She flips the calendar on her desk and circles a terrifyingly close date. “We don’t have time for lukewarm.”
I nod mutely, clutching my notebook like a lifeline. Alice is a powerhouse editor. Brilliant, blunt, and allergic to bullshit. She’s the reason I signed the contract the day after I got back from Liberty Island. It still smelled like printer ink when the anxiety set in.
It’s been three months since I left the lighthouse behind. Three months since I let Asher Fitzgerald touch me like he already owned me. Since he looked at me like I was breakable, beautiful, and his. All in the same breath. And then nothing since.
Now I’m three weeks behind on the manuscript that is supposed to be my big break. I haven’t slept, my right eye won’t stop twitching, and I can’t stop thinking about the way he held me as I came. How gentle his hands were, how wrecked his voice sounded when he said my name.
Of course he hasn’t called. Who wants a hot mess who basically dry-humped her friend’s brother in the dark then ghosted him the day after like she was allergic to consequences? Because she was too embarrassed to face him, knowing she’d practically begged for him to touch her.
“I can do better,” I say, although my voice cracks on the word better. And like she knows I’m on the edge, Alice changes tack, shutting her laptop with a decisive snap.
“Francine, let me explain something.” She stands, heels clicking on the polished floor as she walks around the desk. “There are a thousand writers who would kill to have this shot. But I don’t care about them.”
I blink. “You don’t?”
“No,” she says. “I care about you. Because you’re the one with the voice. You’re the one who made me laugh, cry, and squirm in the first five chapters of your sample.
She stops in front of me. “But this—” she gestures vaguely toward the pages I recently submitted, “It reads like someone who’s writing with one hand tied behind their back.”
“I’m trying,” I whisper.
“I know you are,” she says, and it’s not unkind. “But something’s holding you back. And I think I know what it is.”
My heart stutters. “You do?”
“It’s the Commander,” she says flatly. “You created this magnetic, emotionally repressed man who practically sizzles on the page. But now it seems like you’re afraid of what happens when he finally lets go. Like you don’t trust what comes next.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because how can I tell her that I’ve based the commander on the same man I ran away from three months ago without a word?
The one who made me see the kind of stars that no woman could ever recover from.
Alice crosses her arms. “Honey, that man wants to wreck her. He wants to protect her. He wants to ruin his life for her and pretend he didn’t mean to. But you’re keeping him on a leash. Why?”
I swallow hard. Because of who he is based on. And it’s making it impossible to write him in the way I want to.
“I don’t know,” I lie.
She doesn’t call me on it. She just gives me that look. The one that made me initially sign the contract and believe I could actually do this.
“Trying isn’t enough anymore. Not for this. This is your coming-out party. And the publishing world is full of people who will take one look at you and try to eat you alive.”
She gives me a smile that’s all teeth and belief. “So show them exactly who you are and how good you can be.”
My chest tightens. “And if I can’t do it?”
“Then I’ll give your slot to one of the other hundreds of authors who asked for it. The ones I turned down because you walked into my office.” She tilts her head. “Don’t make me regret betting on you, Francine. Make me look like a genius.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “You’re not going to regret it.”
Alice watches me for a beat, then nods like she’s satisfied. For now. “Good. Because marketing’s already moving. And our rights team is on standby.”
I blink. “Wait. What?”
She strides back behind her desk and flips open a thick binder with color-coded tabs. “We’ve got early mockups for the cover. The team’s brainstorming titles that’ll melt the algorithm. There’s already interest from two streaming producers – big ones – who want first look at the pitch.”
My stomach flips. “Before the first draft is even finished?”
Alice doesn’t even glance up. “Absolutely. You’re hot in the industry right now, Francie. The right kind of hot. The sample you sent blew open doors you don’t even know about.”
I open my mouth, then close it again. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. I might be on the cusp of the biggest opportunity of my life.
And not one of my brothers even knows I write.
Alice finally looks up, like she can read my mind. “You’ve told your family, right?”
My laugh comes out a little strangled. “Um no. Not yet. I just... haven’t found the right time.”
Alice raises a brow. “You’ve had months.”
“It’s complicated,” I say weakly.
“It’s cowardly,” she replies, but not without sympathy. “And it’s killing your writing.”
The words hit their mark, clean and true. I grip the arms of my chair.
Alice’s face softens just a notch. “This book is going to be amazing. Your voice, your vulnerability, your fury, it’s all there, ready to be unleashed. But if you keep holding back because you’re afraid someone might see too much? This whole thing will fall apart.”
I nod. My throat is tight. My skin hot. I feel seen and exposed and, weirdly, grateful.
“Finish this chapter by the end of the week,” she says. “The real one. With the leash off.”
She picks up her coffee, already moving on to the next thing as I stand up to leave. “Oh, and Francine?” I glance back as I reach the door. “Tell the Commander I said he’s allowed to wreck her. That’s what we’re here for.”
My mind is still reeling as I walk out of the building, Alice’s words echoing in my ears like a volley of bullets.
Producers are interested. Marketing is already rolling. Your name’s going to be big.
I step into the bright Manhattan afternoon, squinting against the glare. The sidewalk is busy, full of honking horns, clacking heels, and food cart steam. And I’m one more heartbeat away from a full-on panic attack when I hear it:
“Francine?”
I freeze. That voice doesn’t belong here.
I turn slowly, dread curdling in my stomach like bad milk.
Sure enough, my oldest brother is standing at the curb, one hand adjusting the cuff of his expensive navy suit, the other holding a phone like he’s about to launch into a press conference. His gray hair gleams in the sun, and his familiar frown deepens as his eyes lock on me.
“Myles?” I manage, trying to force a casual smile. “What are you doing in the city?”
“I had a meeting. You?”
I falter for half a second. “Just… meeting a friend.”
His gaze shifts past me to the building’s entrance, where the publisher’s name is etched in a very large, very obvious sign above the door.
“A friend who works in publishing?”
“She’s in… marketing,” I say. It’s technically not a lie. Alice does have a marketing department. Somewhere.
Myles gives me a look that probably works wonders in boardrooms, when he wants his minions to fall at his feet. “And does this marketing friend have a name?”
He used to work in publishing. He still has way too many connections for me to lie without panicking. I have to think fast.
“Uh-huh,” I say, scrambling. “Jessica. She’s new. I was just helping her… settle in.”
He narrows his eyes, and I can practically feel the older brother radar scanning me for inconsistencies. “Hmm.”
I grip my notebook tighter. “What was your meeting about?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.
“Security.” His mouth twitches like he just remembered something funny. “We’re upgrading our systems. You should probably get a commission. I’m spending a lot of money with the Fitzgeralds right now.”
My brain short-circuits. Fitzgerald. As in Asher Fitzgerald.
“You’re working with… Asher?” I try not to sound like I’ve just swallowed a wasp.
Myles nods. “He’s heading up the project personally. I insisted. We’ve had too many near-misses lately. And his team’s the best.”
Of course they are.
He glances at his watch. “Listen, I have to run to another meeting, but I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve been meaning to reach out and spend time with you. Come to dinner with me tonight.”
My eyebrows lift. “Dinner?” I say, trying to find an excuse.
He nods, already half distracted. “You and me. Just a catch-up. It’s been too long.”
“Oh.” I blink, thinking about all the work I have to do on the manuscript. “Okay. Yeah, sure.”
“Meet me at my club at seven,” he tells me.
“Okay,” I say again, pasting on a smile. “See you then.”
He nods, adjusts his cuff, and strides away like a man late for a boardroom takeover.
My feet stay frozen on the sidewalk long after he’s gone.
Great. Dinner at the club. With my oldest brother. While I’m juggling deadlines, dodging questions, and drowning in secrets I’m not ready to share.
And he’s working with someone I’ve been trying very hard not to think about.
What could possibly go wrong?
I answer Autumn’s call right as my Uber swerves around a bus and narrowly avoids a closed up hotdog cart.
“Hey,” I say to her, bracing myself against the door as the driver accelerates through the evening traffic, like he’s on a mission to get me to Myles’ club on time for dinner.
“There she is!” Autumn’s voice is warm and bubbly, underscored by the faint sound of waves and distant seagulls. “How’s New York? I miss having someone to complain about overpriced lattes with.”
I smile despite the nerves churning in my stomach. “Loud. Crowded. Smells like ambition and hot trash.”
“So basically perfect.” She pauses. “Have you been writing today?”
“Sort of,” I hedge. “I had a meeting with Alice.”
“Yikes. Is she still terrifying and fabulous?” Autumn asks, because she knows all about Alice’s reputation. She was as giddy as I was when she first approached me.
“She might have scared my creativity into hiding. But yeah.” I hesitate. “She believes in me. Maybe more than I do right now.”
Autumn hums. “Well, I believe in you too. Even if you are terrible at answering my messages.”
“Sorry.” I wince, because she hit the nail on the head. “I’ve been… busy.”
There’s a loaded pause. “Francie. You’ve been weird ever since you left the island. Did something happen? Is there something wrong?”
I glance out the window. “No.” Too fast. “Just work stress.”
There’s a pause. Then her voice softens.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?”
Guilt prickles under my skin. I hate lying to her. She’s my best friend. She’d go to war for me. But what do you say when the one thing you can’t talk about is her brother?
The one you kissed like he was yours, then ran from like a coward.
So instead I change the subject. “So what’s up? You didn’t call just to check on my caffeine intake.”
“Okay, fine. I have news. Big news. We’re leaving next week.”
I blink. “Leaving where?”
“Liberty.” She sounds giddy. “Parker signed a deal to commentate the NFL International Series.”
My mouth drops open. “Wait, seriously? You’re moving?”
“Just for a couple of months. London will be our base, but we’ll be traveling to Berlin, Madrid, Rome… It’s wild.”
“Autumn, that’s amazing!” I know how much she loves to travel.
“I know!” Her voice lifts. “But terrifying. I’m still trying to convince myself I won’t fall apart on a twelve-hour flight.”
I laugh. “You’ll be amazing. London won’t know what hit it.”
“Come with me.”
I snort. “Tempting, but I’m three weeks behind on my book and currently heading to dinner with one of my brothers.”
“Ugh. Which one?”
“Myles.”
“Oh God. Wear armor.”
I smile wryly. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
“You’re going to be fine,” she says, her voice softening. “But seriously, Francie... is everything okay? You’ve seemed a little... off.”
“I’m fine. Really,” I promise. “And anyway, you’ve been busy. With everything that’s going on.”
“Yeah.” She exhales. “It’s been kind of a whirlwind. Between Hudson falling for Skyler and Ayda starting to talk... it’s like everything shifted overnight.”
I smile at the mention of Ayda. “She’s really talking now?”
“Mostly to Skyler,” Autumn says, and I can hear the warmth in her voice. “It’s like she cracked some secret code. Hudson’s completely smitten with the both of them. Honestly, I think that’s the only reason I feel okay leaving the island. For the first time in a long time, they don’t need me.”
“That’s huge.”
“Tell me about it,” she says. “I’ve spent so long worrying about Ayda, about Hudson. Now it’s like I can finally breathe.”
She pauses. “Which is why I really want you to come with us. I want you to breathe, too.”
I close my eyes for a moment, resting my head against the cool glass of the window. The city rushes past in a blur of headlights and neon, all too fast, too loud, too everything.
“I love that you want that for me,” I murmur. “But right now breathing looks a lot like writing until my fingers fall off.”
Autumn sighs. “Okay. But promise me when you’re famous and everyone’s fighting to turn your books into movies, you’ll take a real break and come drink mimosas with me in Europe, on Liberty. Wherever.”
“Only if I get to wear a tiara,” I say, and she laughs.
“Obviously.”
We say our goodbyes right as the car pulls up in front of the old stone building that houses Myles’ club – one of those private members’ only places with heavy doors, polite doormen, and a wine list that probably costs more than my rent.
I thank the driver and step out, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.
The night air is cool and crisp, a shock after the stuffy Uber ride. I pause on the steps, trying to pull myself together.
Dinner with Myles.
I think I’d rather come face to face with a fire-breathing dragon.