Chapter 5
FIVE
The next morning, Melody stood before the imposing glass doors of Carlisle Publishing, her reflection staring back at her like a deer caught in headlights.
Her hair, which she had spent an hour taming earlier, was already starting to frizz in Seattle's ever-present drizzle.
Great. Nothing says "take me seriously as an author" like looking like she had been electrocuted.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed through the doors and stepped into the lobby. The receptionist, a perky redhead who looked like she had walked straight out of a rom-com, beamed at her.
"Welcome to Carlisle Publishing! How can I help you?"
Melody forced a smile. "Hi, I'm Melody Archer. I have a meeting with my new editor at 2 PM."
The receptionist's eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh, of course! Mr. Carlisle is expecting you. Fifteenth floor, room 1508."
Melody blinked. "Mr. Carlisle? As in..."
"Nathaniel Carlisle, yes. The CEO's son." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "And between you and me, he's quite the catch."
Melody's stomach did a somersault. Fantastic. Not only was she getting a new editor, but he was also publishing royalty. This day just kept getting better.
The elevator ride felt like it took an eternity. She used the time to give herself a pep talk. "You've got this, Melody. You're a successful author. You write real, honest stories about love. Don't let some corporate pretty boy change that."
The doors opened, and she stepped out onto the fifteenth floor. It was all sleek lines and modern art, screaming "we have more money than we know what to do with." She made her way to room 1508, her heart pounding a samba in her chest.
She knocked, hearing a muffled "Come in" from the other side. Taking one last deep breath, she opened the door.
And promptly forgot how to breathe.
Sitting behind the desk, looking unfairly handsome in a crisp white shirt and blue tie, was Nate. Her Nate. The guy from the party. The guy who had given her the best night of her life and then disappeared.
Their eyes met, and she saw the same shock mirrored in his clear blue gaze. For a moment, they both just stared, the air between them crackling with tension and unspoken words.
Nate recovered first, standing up so abruptly he nearly knocked over his chair. "Mel. I... wasn't expecting..."
Melody found her voice, though it came out higher than usual. "Clearly. I guess the universe has a twisted sense of humor."
He carded a hand through his hair, a gesture so familiar it made her heart ache. "I had no idea you were... I mean, when I read your file, I didn't realize..."
"That I was the girl you slept with and then ghosted?" The words came out sharper than she intended, fueled by a mix of embarrassment and lingering hurt.
Nate winced. "I didn't ghost you. I left a note."
She let out a humorless laugh. "'Last night was incredible'? That's not a note, Nate. That's a cop-out."
He stepped around the desk, moving closer. "Mel, I'm sorry. If I had known..."
She held up a hand, stopping him. "Let's just... forget it ever happened, okay? We're here to work. You're my editor, I'm your author. That's it."
Nate nodded, though she could see the conflict in his eyes. "Right. Of course. Please, have a seat."
She sat, crossing her legs and trying to ignore how good he smelled. It was the same cologne from that night, and it was bringing back memories she really didn't need right now.
Nate cleared his throat, all business now. "So, I've read your previous work. You have a unique voice, Mel...um, Melody. Your characters are complex, your plots unpredictable. It's... refreshing."
Melody relaxed slightly. "Thank you. I try to write stories that reflect real life. Love isn't always easy or straightforward."
"I noticed. Particularly in your last book. The scene where Angie confronts Tom about his fear of commitment? Brilliant."
"You actually read it? I mean, really read it?"
"Cover to cover. Twice." His smile grew, and for a moment, she saw a glimpse of the Nate she met at the party. Charming, funny, passionate.
Then he straightened, and the corporate mask slipped back into place. "However, we do have some concerns about the commercial viability of your next project."
And just like that, her guard was back up. "What kind of concerns?"
Nate pulled out a file, flipping it open. "Your proposal for 'Love in the Time of Cheese' is... unique. But we're worried it might be too niche. We were thinking something more... mainstream."
She felt her hackles rise. "Mainstream? You mean boring and predictable?"
He sighed. "Melody, I understand your commitment to realism. But readers often want escape, fantasy. Happy endings that aren't quite so... messy."
"Life is messy," she snapped. "Love is messy. Why shouldn't our stories reflect that?"
Nate leaned forward, his voice softening. "I get it. Believe me, I do. But we also have to think about sales. About reaching a wider audience."
She stood up, unable to sit still any longer. "So you want me to sell out? To write cookie-cutter romances where everyone's beautiful and rich and problems are solved in 300 pages or less?"
He stood too, frustration evident in his voice. "That's not what I'm saying. We just need to find a middle ground. Something that stays true to your voice but also appeals to a broader readership."
She shook her head, feeling a mix of disappointment and anger. "I can't believe this. I thought you understood my work. I thought you respected it."
"I do respect it," Nate insisted, moving closer. "Melody, please. Let's just talk about this. We can find a solution that works for both of us."
But she was already grabbing her bag, heading for the door. "I need some air. And time to think about whether I want to continue working with a publishing house that doesn't value artistic integrity."
Nate called after her, but she was already out the door, her heels clicking angrily against the polished floor as she made her way to the elevator.
As the doors closed, she caught a glimpse of Nate in the hallway, looking frustrated and... something else. Regretful, maybe?
She leaned against the elevator wall, closing her eyes.
This was a disaster. Not only was her new editor the guy she couldn't stop thinking about, but he also wanted to change everything about her writing.
And the worst part? A tiny, traitorous part of her wanted to hear him out, just to spend more time with him.
The elevator dinged, depositing her back in the lobby. She marched through, ignoring the receptionist's cheerful goodbye. Once outside, she gulped in the damp Seattle air, trying to clear her head.
She started walking, no real destination in mind. Her thoughts were a jumble of professional outrage and personal confusion. How was she supposed to work with Nate? How could she trust his editorial judgment when she couldn't even trust him to leave his phone number after a one-night stand?
And yet... the way he talked about her books. The genuine appreciation in his eyes when he mentioned specific scenes. It was more than just flattery; he really had read them. Really understood them.
She groaned, stopping to lean against a building. This was going to be complicated. Messy. Exactly the kind of love story she would write... if she wasn't living it.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text from Carmen:
How did the meeting go?
She stared at the screen, unsure how to even begin explaining this situation. Finally, she typed back.”
Remember that guy from the party? Turns out he's my new editor.
And he wants to change everything about my writing.
Carmen's response was immediate.
Holy plot twist, Batman! Come to my office NOW. We need to talk strategy
She sighed, hailing a taxi. As she gave the driver Carmen's address, she couldn't help but glance back at the Carlisle Publishing building. Somewhere up there, Nate was probably wondering what the hell just happened. Join the club, buddy.
This was going to be a wild ride. Part of her wanted to run screaming in the other direction. But a bigger part... a bigger part was intrigued. Challenged. And maybe, just maybe, a little excited.
After all, wasn't this exactly the kind of complex, messy, real-life romance she was always writing about?
She settled back into the taxi seat, a wry smile tugging at her lips. Well, Melody, she thought to herself. You wanted inspiration for your next book.
Be careful what you wish for.