“The basics are easy,” Luna said. “First the blacksmith needs a new shop, then he needs a product, then he needs customers. Maybe there’s some overlap in there.”

  “Good point.” I could work with this. It would take some more planning, but I had enough of an idea of what came next, to start nudging Jeremy and Quentin together tonight, at the party.

  Yeah, patience really wasn’t my thing.

  Luna’s phone chimed, and she glanced at the screen. “I have a vendor meeting in fifteen minutes, but I can reschedule if you need.”

  “No, I’m good. Thank you.” I felt a lot better about everything, and enough time had passed that I might have the answer I was waiting for soon. I downed the rest of my coffee, while Luna shoved half a biscuit sandwich into her mouth in a bite that should’ve been impossible, and we headed back across the street.

  We were waiting for the elevator when my phone rang.

  “Look at us, all popular today,” Luna teased.

  I gave a light laugh. The number was one I didn’t recognize. “Hello?”

  “Hi, I’m looking for Sonya Russel.”

  “This is she.” I stepped into an elevator car with Luna, my curiosity rising.

  “This is Daisy Graves with RopeFlick. Are you the author of Beastly Trysts?”

  My pulse was roaring so loudly in my ears, I must be hearing her wrong. Or this was a bad connection. I had the sense to not ask her to repeat herself. “I am.”

  “How are you today?”

  Dying of a heart attack caused by waiting for too many answers. “I’m great. You?”

  “Fantastic, thanks. Look, I won’t waste your time. We’re interested in optioning your book for television.”

  What in the what?

  8

  Jeremy

  The scream that reached me was Luna’s and fell in her excited range—yes, she had ranges of high-pitched emotion. She and Sonya had to be back.

  I was hurrying toward the noise before I finished processing the thought. I arrived in the lobby of our offices at the same time as half the crew.

  “I didn’t mean to disturb everyone.” Luna was grinning. “Sorry. But not really. But ahh.”

  Sonya was her opposite, staring blankly, silently, at her phone.

  Everyone was focused on Luna, asking what was going on, but I had a different concern. I touched Sonya’s arm, and she looked up at me with wide eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  She shook her head, as if trying to rattle something loose inside. “They want to buy it.”

  “Who does? Buy what?” That was Nigel. The noise around us had stopped, and I swore I felt a dozen gazes on us.

  Sonya blinked several times and seemed to focus on me. RopeFlick wants to buy the rights to my books.”

  Bedlam was back, amplified by one hundred as a chorus of no way, that’s awesome, and congratulations broke out around us.

  Sonya still looked numb. “It was just a phone call. I need to see the contract. It may be bullshit. It hasn’t gone anywhere yet.”

  “Just a phone call.” I tossed her words back at her, hoping she would hear how ridiculous they sounded. “How many people even get a fucking phone call?” Envy twinged inside me, but it was easy to ignore. I’d been writing screenplays for years and had yet to even get a nibble, and she was writing off someone coming to her asking for her work.

  “This celebration tonight is going to be epic,” Dustin said. “We need to kick things up a notch or fifty. Time to RSVP. Show of hands, who’s coming?”

  People raised their hands, and Dustin counted.

  My younger sister would be upset if she missed this. “Plus Megan.”

  “Definitely.” Sonya sounded like herself. “And Quentin.”

  Jealousy stabbed me in the gut again. I needed to deal with that.

  A sharp whistle cut over the chatter, and everyone turned to stare at Dustin. He shrugged and nodded at Judith, who’d joined us. “Boss lady says, back to work.”

  “Ask Sonya all the questions you want tonight. She doesn’t have to answer them, though,” Judith said.

  There were some grumbles and a few more congrats, but the crowd dispersed quickly.

  Sonya lingered, stopping Judith before she could walk away.

  Interesting.

  “I know movies and books are a different industry than gaming”—Sonya sounded hesitant—“but I don’t suppose you could give me the name of a good contract and IP lawyer? Or a more specific starting point than an online search will?”

  Judith already had her phone out. She made a few swipes at the screen. “It’s in your email. Tell him I sent you. And seriously, congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” Sonya’s smile broke free of the doubt that had clouded her face, and the look was beautiful in its simplicity.

  I fell into step beside her, as we headed back to the Writers’ room. The AcesPlayed office space had been a satellite campus for the community college until the school took most of their courses online. Each of our teams had snagged a classroom or two and made it our own, and every room reflected the personalities of the people who worked in it.

  Sonya and I had whiteboards covering most of the walls, each with a different storyline and all of its associated options laid out. We were one of the few teams with cubicles, despite there only being two of us, because when it was time to focus, we both preferred to block out the rest of the world.

  “Someone wants to make a TV show. From my books,” Sonya muttered as we walked into the room.

  “Because you’re amazing.”

  “I’m really not.”

  This was what frustrated me about her more than anything—she couldn’t see the good in herself. I grabbed her wrist loosely, tugged her to a stop, and spun her to face me. “Look at me.” I placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head.

  She stared back, eyes wide.

  “You trust me, don’t you? Especially to be honest with you?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then believe me when I say you’re the best at what you do. Period. No qualifiers. I’m not saying that to make you feel better; I’m saying it because it’s true.”

  Sonya ducked her head, but not before I saw the corners of her mouth tug up. “I’m going to call this contact of Judith’s. Cover for me?”

  “Of course.”

  She was back a few minutes later, saying Dominic was happy to look over any contracts she received, at a reasonable rate.

  An hour or two later, when Sonya got confirmation that she’d made a best seller list, coming in at number nineteen, our focus was shot for the day. Not that we’d gotten much done up to that point. We spent the time until five following one tangent of conversation after another and frequently drifting back to her saying, “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

  I liked seeing her this happy. She deserved this.

  Her phone rang a little later, startling me. “Is that you?” I had to make sure because she usually kept her phone on Vibrate. The current news was extra special if she’d turned the ringer on. “It’s Megan,” she told me and took the call. “Hello.”

  “Hey, you.” Megan’s voice was tinny coming through the phone speaker and the cubicle wall between Sonya and me.

  If she’d answered this way, she meant for me to hear. I rolled my chair to her side of the divider. “Hello,” I called.

  “Hi.” Megan’s voice was bright. “So first of all, congratulations, Sonya. This. Is. Amazing. No surprise, of course, because you’re a genius and now the world knows it, but congratulations.”

  Sonya’s smile was bright enough to light the room. “Thank you.”

  “And… um…” Megan’s cheer faded in a single breath. “I can’t make it tonight. I’m so sorry. I’ll take you out another night. We’ll drink till we can’t walk, and we’ll take a cab home, and I’ll give you all the celebration you deserve.”

  “It’s okay. It was a last-minute deal.” Sonya sounded sincere, and knowing her, she wasn’t questioning this at all.

  I wouldn’t either—things happened—but I’d heard the shift in Megan’s tone. A lifetime of knowing someone, and all that. “Is everything all right?” I asked.

  “We’re going to taste-test wedding cake tonight,” Megan said.

  Sounded reasonable.

  “I thought you were doing that on Saturday.” Now there was a hitch in Sonya’s reply.

  Megan sighed. “We were, but Easton can only do it tonight. He just let me know a little bit ago. I really am sorry.”

  Easton was Megan’s fiancé. Sonya’s warning look was the only thing that kept my sarcastic what rotten timing from slipping out. I clenched my jaw and stared back. I wanted nothing but happiness for my sister, and every time she told me something new about her husband-to-be, I questioned his motives. But Sonya insisted I was jaded and needed to keep my thoughts to myself.

  Sonya turned away before I did. “Go. Eat cake,” she said. “Pick a flavor you love. It’s your wedding, and we’ll hook up this weekend since he’ll be busy.”

  “Sounds perfect. Congratulations again.” Megan disconnected.

  I rolled my chair back to my desk.

  “Don’t say it,” Sonya warned.

  “I’m not.”

  “You’re thinking it.”

  “You can’t stop me from thinking things.”

  Sonya huffed. “How can you create such brilliant love stories and still be a romance Scrooge?”

  I shrugged even though she couldn’t see me. “I’m just that talented.” I kept my tone playful, not wanting to argue with her.

  “Yes, you are.” Her light laugh was a relief.

  By the time five rolled around, we were beyond done working. Not everyone in the office was dealing with the same buzz, so Sonya and I headed to the brewery where Dustin had gotten us a reservation, along with a few other people from the office. The rest would join us over the next hour or so.

  Sonya went to talk to Luna, Adrienne—who was in Art—and Reese. Reese didn’t officially work here, though she and her band had started doing some promotional music for us on a contract basis. One of her boyfriends worked with Luna in security, though, and the other was one of our original crew—the Brandon I’d been telling orgy stories about, a couple of days ago.

  Not that he’d have a problem with that.

  I sought out Dustin, our Director of Marketing and the guy who made the party happen last minute.

  “Thank you for this.” I gestured at the room.

  Dustin waved a hand. “It was a reservation and a few details.”

  “Still.” I knew Luna had volunteered him for the job, and he slid into it without complaint, including making sure everyone but Sonya chipped in, to foot the bill tonight.

  “How many people are coming?” There was a nagging dread that it would only be a few more than were already here.

  “Almost everyone.”

  “Excellent.” I grinned. It wasn’t that Sonya was disliked—she got along fine with most everyone in the office—but she bailed on a lot of company sponsored social events, so my worry was that people would do the same to her. Or that they’d just not show because software developers didn’t tend to be social people either.

  Dustin surveyed the room. “This is a huge deal—not even Rinslet has TV rights out there—but it’s more than that. Sonya’s one of us.”

  “I am?” Sonya’s voice came from our side, and Dustin looked as surprised as I was.

  “Of course you are,” Dustin said.

  Sonya’s smile had been bright and warm every time I’d seen her today. “You realize that even if I decide to sell—which I have no idea if this is even a good offer—most options that are purchased never make it to filming, and even fewer are released to the public.” She would know better than most of us; her mother was a bigwig for one of those channels that made all the romance movies.

  “But none of those books are by you.” I would praise her skill all day long. No one told a story, built a rich world around it and planted unique and three-dimensional characters in it, the way Sonya did.

  Dustin nodded. “And none of us knows anyone else who’s had someone want to buy the rights to their book. We’re all going to celebrate this with you.”

  Sonya ducked her head, but not before I caught the bright red coloring her face. At the sound of someone calling her name, she turned toward the doorway.

  Quentin’s arrival filled me with ambivalence. I was happy to see him, but I hadn’t figured out how I felt about her inviting him.

  Sonya waved him over and introduced him to Dustin. Apparently, Quentin already knew Adrienne, Reese, and Luna from movie night at Sonya’s.

  Sonya pointed to one of the tables waiting for us. “We’re sitting over there. Jeremy on the end, you next to him, and me next to you.”

  “You gave us assigned seating?” Quentin sounded amused.

  Dustin held up a finger. “You’re new here, so I’ll give you the lowdown. Sonya and Jeremy usually sit with QA and the devs, instead of creative, and it’s like the tech version of a boys’ side and a girls’ side of the room. Tonight, we’re mixing it up. Mostly so we get to sit by the guest of honor.”

  “Brilliant master plan, right?” Adrienne grinned.

  Sonya nodded. “As long as you don’t seat me at a long table in front of the room, away from and above everyone else, I’m good with it.”

  Luna’s mouth formed an O. “Queen of the North?”

  Not quite. “Queen of the Smut. All hail,” I said.

  Quentin dropped to one knee at Sonya’s feet, which made me raise my eyebrows. Talking about taking things to the next level.

  “I should’ve known I was in the presence of royalty.” Quentin’s tone was abruptly serious. “I am but your humble servant, your highness.”

  As smoothly as if it were planned, Dustin mimicked Quentin’s gesture, chanting Queen of the Smut. Queen of the Smut, and half the room joined in within seconds.

  Sonya was as red as her lipstick, and she pulled Quentin to his feet. “Please don’t.” Her voice was quiet.

  Was I the tiniest bit smug that Quentin read this situation wrong? That I knew she would hate this? I stepped between her and the room and murmured in her ear, “Let’s go get some air.”

  She nodded and let me lead her from the room.

  9

  Quentin

  The moment Sonya whispered please don’t, I knew I’d fucked up.

  And I was furious at myself for the mistake, and at Jeremy for being the one who got to rescue her and bring her back a short while later.

  I’d apologized, but she shrugged my words off with a quiet it’s okay. She stayed quiet as more people showed up and we sat down for dinner. But she still kept me seated between her and Jeremy.

  That made me smug.

  The waitresses brought the drinks back and set a blended strawberry margarita in front of Sonya.

  “This isn’t mine.” Sonya was quiet.

  I stopped the waitress from taking it away. “I ordered it for you,” I told Sonya. “It’s an apology.”

  “It’s not because you’re trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me?” Teasing slipped into her voice.

  The hint of the Sonya I saw at home was reassuring. “Never with alcohol. Maybe with a good slashfic.”

  Her smile was soft and perfect.

  “Hey, can we get one of those over here for Nigel?” Someone else called. There were too many faces and names for me to remember them all, and this one wasn’t from Jeremy’s story.

  “I don’t need a strawberry margarita.” That was Nigel from the Our First Orgy story.

  “What will it take to get you drunk?” Brandon asked.

  Nigel shrugged casually. “Anything that doesn’t have strawberry in it.”

  Sonya sipped her drink, her body relaxing visibly as the conversation revolved around not-her.

  “What’s wrong with strawberry?” Luna wanted to know. “Oh God. You don’t like it, do you? Who doesn’t like strawberry?” She sounded playfully offended.

  A quarter of the room chimed in with me.

  Luna pouted. “Uncultured swine. All of you. Fine. What will it take to get you drunk enough for another knife-throwing demonstration?”

  Uh… what had I walked into?

  “Nigel’s trained,” Jeremy explained to me. “And they found out at the Christmas party.”

  “There was knife throwing at your Christmas party?” Who were these fascinating people?

  Sonya let out a small laugh. “I’m kind of sorry I missed that one.” Her voice was soft, only meant for our ears, but she was unwithdrawing so that was good.

  “I can throw knives without the alcohol,” Nigel said.

  “No, you can’t. We don’t have the insurance for knife-throwing. Especially with so much glass in here.” That was Judith. According to Jeremy, one of the only women from those early days. She was the big boss here, and despite being one of the shorter people in the room, carried herself like the woman in charge.

  I hoped whoever she was fucking appreciated the kind of power she radiated.

  “Can we not talk about throwing knives?” Link was the kind of big and bulky that a lot of Marines would sell their souls for. “My manhood can’t take the competition.”

  “Can we whip out our dicks instead?” someone else asked.

  Elliot shook his head. “Still not a contest you’d win.”

  Ouch. Did this just turn brutal? No one looked upset.

  “You weren’t complaining the other night at the glory hole,” Link countered.

  Jeremy covered his face and peeked through his fingers. “You promised you wouldn’t tell.”

  “So did you.” Link focused on him.

  If I had to step between him and Jeremy, could I take him?

  “Hey.” Elliot’s voice was sharp. “First rule of Fuck Club?”

  Obviously not We Don’t Talk About Fuck Club.

  “We write the good stuff into the game,” Nigel said.

  The entire room erupted in laughter, even Sonya.

  This was such an odd group of people. They were obviously family, and I had an appreciation for that. A lot of their openness with their sexuality probably had to do with the work they did. Knowing that didn’t stop me from thinking about the fact that half these men had fucked each other, and none of them seemed hung up on it.