The CEO – Adrian
THE CEO
ADRIAN
Three Days Later
Isipped my coffee and stared at the strange scene across the street.
Instead of seeing bored employees gazing out the windows of Slow Burn Books, I was watching a huge line of customers stretch down the block.
And it was growing longer by the minute.
There were no “Free Books Today,” “Free Lattes,” or “Pop-Up Romance Giveaway” signs. There’d been no newsletter alerts about any events there this week, so this sudden bout of success didn’t make any sense.
Then again, maybe Summer blocked my burner email account from her list.
If this had been a one-off thing, I wouldn’t be bothered, but today marked the second day in a row, and there was no reasonable explanation for anyone choosing her store over mine.
What the hell are MY customers doing over there?
“Benjamin!” I called out.
“Yes, Mr. Sinclair?” He immediately stepped into the room.
“Why are so many customers shopping at the store across the street instead of with me?”
“Because they want to…”
“Excuse me?” I turned around. “What did you just say?”
“I said, I’ll have someone look into that right away.” He smiled. “Anything else?”
I glanced across the street again. “What are the numbers on our recent pop-up event?”
“We had around four thousand customers, and twenty percent of them made a purchase.”
“Only twenty percent?”
“That’s a very good number,” he said. “You were offering free books and drinks, sir.”
“I gave them free books and drinks, and eighty percent of them had the audacity to leave without buying anything?”
“That’s typically how freebie events work, sir.”
“Right…” I clenched my jaw. “Find out why Slow Burn has a line. I want an answer within the hour.”
“Very well, sir.” He disappeared, and I took a seat at my desk.
I tried distracting myself with emails, business articles, and another cup of coffee.
I vowed not to check the time until Benjamin returned, but when I caught sight of my watch, only fifteen minutes had passed.
“Screw this.” I stood up and headed to the elevator.
I’ll solve this problem myself…
I tossed my blazer into the trunk, loosened my tie, and slid a pair of shades over my eyes before walking to the end of the line.
And I didn’t appreciate that it was now two blocks long.
I waited until someone joined the line behind me, and then I cleared my throat.
“Remind me,” I said. “Why are we all standing in line?”
“Funny.” She held up a paper with a bright pink barcode. “It’s a pop-up event for Desirae Falls. If you didn’t print your pass, make sure you have the confirmation email on your phone.”
“Will do…” I didn’t want to reveal that I had no clue who Desirae Falls was, so I remained in place and pulled out my phone.
I logged into our digital inventory and searched for Desirae Falls, but her name didn’t appear under ‘new releases,’ ‘top romances,’ or ‘viral smashes.’
Her name wasn’t listed on any bestseller charts either.
“Can I ask you a question?” I looked at the woman behind me.
“Yes.” She smiled. “It’s a yes to going anywhere you want. It has to be after this event, though.”
“My question is about this event.” I pretended not to notice her rubbing my arm. “Who is Desirae Falls?”
“Oh, please! If you didn’t know her, you wouldn’t be here.” She squealed like a schoolgirl. “She’s one of my favorite authors, and I can’t believe I managed to get a ticket to finally meet her!”
“If she’s so popular,” I said, furrowing my brow, “why isn’t she on any bestseller lists?”
“Because she’s also a bit of a weirdo—in the best possible way.”
“What does that mean?”
“She takes the title ‘indie author’ a little too literally.” She lowered her voice. “She only sells print books through her website and small indie shops. You won’t find her in any of the big stores, but I’ll follow her anywhere.”
“Good to know,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Claire Jones is coming here tomorrow,” she said. “Want to make it a date?”
“No, you’ve told me everything I need. Thank you.”
“That’s it?” she asked. “What about going somewhere after this?”
“I’m taken.” I smiled and gently moved her hand off my arm. “I apologize for the miscommunication.”
“Does she swallow you every night?” She stepped closer. “You deserve someone who can do that for you…”
I turned away before she could say anything else.
Returning across the street, I rushed to my office and pulled up Desirae Falls’s website.
I clicked on her ‘contact me about events’ page, ready to invite her to sign at my store this week, but a pop-up message stopped me dead in my tracks.
Before You Message Me
Please know that I only work with independent bookstores and family-owned coffee shops.
If you’re a corporate chain … Get the f*ck off my page.
Love the rest of you!
Desirae Falls
I searched “Claire Jones indie author” and discovered a similar statement on her page, along with an even more rabid fanbase.
How the hell is this even possible?
“I’ve figured it all out, Mr. Sinclair!” Benjamin rushed into my office, out of breath. “I know why there’s going to be a huge line over there for the next two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” I glared at him. “I’m seeing two days at best…”
“Here.” He handed me a printout. “It’s a schedule of sold-out events Miss Connors is hosting over there.”
“Sold out?”
“Yeah...Looks like she contacted some of the biggest indie authors—like, superrr indie—and asked them to help save her store. They all jumped aboard.”
“Let me guess.” I sighed, glancing at a long list of names I didn’t recognize. “None of them work with corporate bookstores?”
“Correct.”
“And there’s no way they’d ever consider signing here with me?”
“No way in hell, sir.”
“Thank you.” I crumpled the sheet and closed my blinds.
Okay, Summer Connors.
You won this round. Just this one…