Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Noah
My heart skips a beat when the ping sounds for a new email landing in my inbox.
Just the same as it has ever since I sent that email to Chase over twenty-nine hours ago.
Not that I’m counting. I take a deep breath and bring up my inbox.
And just the same as after each time previously, my heart sinks a little further when I see he hasn’t replied.
I yo-yo between thinking it’s only been a day and he’s probably very busy, to it’s been over twenty-four hours and if he wanted to get in touch, he would’ve by now.
The constant switch in my mental state has me on edge and jittery.
I’ve managed to keep myself busy all day with details of an upcoming tour that Rafe will be going on for the launch of his latest book.
It’s helped to some extent, but now it’s done and I’ve sent off the details to him.
It’s nearing the end of the working day and I have no distractions for the evening.
My usual activities of reading, or searching catalogues for rare and old books and keeping myself up to date on prices and what’s available is not going to work.
Mostly because thinking of antiques will remind me of Chase.
Trying to think up something else to do that will keep Chase out of my mind, I almost forget to check the email that came in.
It’s from Rafe, asking if I can have a quick call with him as he has some questions about the information I sent him.
I know Rafe likes to video call, so I send a quick reply.
He gives me a thumbs-up reaction and I open up a call.
“Hi Rafe,” I say as soon as he replies and his face pops up in the window.
“Hi Noah, thanks for replying so quickly. I just have a few things I want to go through if you have time?”
Yeah, I sure as hell don’t have anything else to do.
I also have a lot of time for Rafe. He was my first client as an agent.
I’m grateful for him signing on with an unknown in the publishing world when he was already an established author.
He was having problems with his previous agent and they weren’t interested in a new book idea he had.
I admit going from a mystery series to the biography of an aged dancer and actress was a huge change but I was sure I could find a publisher for it.
It took me a little time, but I managed to get him a great deal with a small but growing publishing house, and now that the book’s been published and has charted in several countries, the publisher has arranged a book tour of the UK as well as the States next month.
We end up talking for nearly an hour, half talking about the tour and the rest catching up.
Rafe has become something of a friend, but as he lives in Barcelona with his two boyfriends, we don’t get to talk often.
I’ll be joining him for a few days of the UK leg of his tour, so we also talked about those arrangements.
Our fathers know each other and my parents have invited him to dinner while he’s here.
Talking with Rafe is good for me, and by the time we finish I feel much calmer.
It’s the longest time I haven’t thought about Chase in the last two days.
As I close the call, I notice there’s another email in my inbox.
I almost don’t bother checking it out, since anything work related can wait until morning.
But of course, knowing it’s there will bring back the unsettled feelings, so I bring up my emails.
I suck in a breath when I see it’s from Chase.
Now I have a reply, I’m almost too nervous to open it, and my fingers hover over the keyboard while I try to control the hammering in my chest. I can’t move until I know what it says, good or bad, so eventually I open it.
I read it through quickly, ready for the news that he’s not willing to think of the possibility of me becoming his agent.
But it’s not that. I read it through again.
He’ll at least continue looking at the ghostwriters, so that’s a start, but he’s left the city.
I feel a small annoyance at that, and an image of him walking away from me when he left the lift comes to mind.
Like he felt he needed to put distance between us.
I’m guessing he’s gone to his country house, or castle as he calls it.
It might well be. I know of it, of course, he mentioned the renovations he had done to it when we were at dinner with Nate and Ru.
I read the last sentence through several times before opening the attached picture.
I let out a sigh and sit back. Now that is a library.
I’d love to see it. Explore what books he has in his collection.
And the last comment, ancient things, is that a hint?
He signed it “Chase,” instead of the more formal way I did.
This is definitely a good sign, an opening for more communication at least. Maybe even more.
Or why else did he send me the picture of what is essentially library porn?
He surely knows the effect it would have on me.
Ancient things, like our own private joke.
The tightness I’ve had in my chest for two days finally loosens and I can smile. I read through the email one more time. I’m not going to reply tonight, I want to think through how to answer. But I do feel better, and I know I’m finally going to sleep well tonight.
The next morning I wake early, feeling refreshed, and after going through my morning routine I decide to spend the morning working from home before going to the ANC offices later. The first job I want to do is reply to Chase.
Dear Chase,
Thank you for your reply. I think you will find Samantha a good fit for your project, though of course the choice is yours.
Have you decided on the theme for your autobiography yet?
I look forward to hearing from you.
Kind regards,
Noah
P.S. Your library looks . . . magnificent. I wonder what treasures it holds.
I hit send and busy myself with other work. My email might have been a bit strong, but then, he started it.
He doesn’t reply until the next day, but this time I haven’t been plagued with nervous anticipation every time I receive an email, and when it does arrive I open it quickly, excited to see what he says.
Dear Noah,
So far Samantha is looking like the strongest candidate and I appreciate your advice on this.
As for the type of book, sadly I am no nearer making a decision just yet.
My library has hidden depths few have seen.
Yours warmly,
Chase
I stare at the screen, trying to decipher his words.
Not the first part, that’s clear enough, but the end .
. . Is Chase flirting with me, via email?
I like it a lot and can’t help smiling for the rest of the day.
I decide not to answer straight away. As he says, he’s stalled on his ideas and I don’t want to push him.
He needs some time to figure it out. I manage to last two days before I give in and contact him.
Dear Chase,
If you need help with figuring out your autobiography, then I’m more than happy to help.
I’d really like to explore those depths.
Yours,
Noah
I giggle as I send the last message. I know I shouldn’t, but a little email banter is hardly against company policy, and I’m sure nothing will come of it anyway. Unlike a kiss. I’d still like to talk to him about that, but I definitely can’t do it over email.
I’m in the office for most of the next day.
It’s our quarterly meeting where Aiden and Cordelia like to go through all the clients they and everyone has on their books and get updates.
As well as go through the company’s aims. They ask a few questions about Chase, but I answer truthfully that I have no idea if he wants to sign or not and he’s still thinking about his project.
They don’t look happy with the news and tell me to pursue him becoming a client more aggressively.
I’ve had my fill of meetings, so I leave in the early afternoon without checking my emails.
When I get back to my apartment I decide to work for a few more hours and open up my laptop.
I smile when I see there’s one from Chase.
Dear Noah,
It’s frustrating, and I’m sure if you were here, we could solve it straight away.
Yours,
Chase
It’s short, far too brief for my liking, and it suddenly feels like a plea. Like he’s reaching out and asking me to actually help him. Plus, there was no banter in this email. Sudden worry for him builds up. I try to ignore it, as he’s a grown man who can take care of himself, and yet . . .
What if I did go and help him? Cordelia’s words come back to me. To pursue his business more aggressively. Nobody could accuse me of not doing that. And his words were like an invitation, right?