Chapter 5: TERMS AND CONDITION

I press the ice pack against my forehead, and willing it to numb the headache pounding between my temples.

“ This is karma. Poetic justice. A divine punishment for every sharp, merciless word I wrote about The Ashen King. At the time, it had felt like just another review, another brutally honest critique from Lady Seraphina Wrenford. But now? Now, I’m the poor soul who has to fix the very book I tore apart.“ I thought.

My eyes darted across the office, and I saw Elliot is still buzzing, practically glowing with excitement as he tells yet another coworker about our visit to Grayson Hale’s estate. I’ve already suffered through three retellings, but apparently, he’s taken it upon himself to spread the gospel of Grayson to the entire publishing house. Even the janitor is getting an enthusiastic play-by-play.

"You weren’t there, Leila," Elliot sighs dreamily, as he flopping into the chair across from my desk. "You didn’t see the way he leaned against that bookshelf, like he was posing for the cover of a dark academia aesthetic board. And his voice? God. It was like drinking black coffee at midnight, rich, smooth, with just the right amount of bitterness."

I glare at him. "I was there, Elliot. I was the one arguing with him."

Elliot gave me a wave of his hand dismissively. "And yet, you failed to appreciate the sheer artistry of the moment. Tragic."

I considered throwing the ice pack at his face. Instead, I slump back in my chair. "I think I have a concussion from all the arrogance in that room."

Elliot gasps, clutching his chest. "How dare you? That was not arrogance—it was tortured genius. There’s a difference."

"Oh, please. If he were any more broody, he’d turn into a literal thunderstorm."

"And if you were any grumpier, you’d scare away the sun."

I point the ice pack at him. "I’m serious, Elliot. If I have to hear one more word about Grayson Hale, I swear…?"

" You’ll what? Edit his book harder?" He smirks. "Because, correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re contractually obligated to spend hours upon hours with him, breaking down every single word he’s ever written."

My eye twitches. Elliot was right. But my real problem isn’t his dramatics, it’s Arthur’s warning.

"This deal is important, Leila. If you can’t make it work, you’re out."

I close my eyes, and like a curse, the memory of that tragic meeting comes rushing back.

FLASHBACK

The silence in the grand Spanish-style mansion stretched uncomfortably. I crossed my arms,  and willing myself not to let Grayson Hale get under my skin. He sat across from me in a sleek leather chair, every inch of him exuding the kind of arrogance that only a man who had been worshipped by his fans could pull off.

“So,” he finally said, “tell me, Miss Brooks, do you have any idea how it feels when someone single-handedly tries to destroy an author’s career?”

I blinked, more out of disbelief than anything else. He was really doing this. He was really sitting here, acting like The Ashen King was some untouchable literary masterpiece and I had personally set fire to it in the town square.

I forced a polite smile. “If an honest review can destroy an author’s career, maybe the book wasn’t that strong to begin with.”

“Right. Of course. Because Lady Seraphina Wrenford is the ultimate authority on literature.”

Every nerve in my body went on high alert. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. But hearing my alias pass through his lips sent a rush of unease through me.

Arthur cleared his throat, shooting me a warning glance. “We’re not here to discuss the review, Grayson,” he said. “We’re here to discuss how we can move forward.”

Grayson exhaled sharply, as he leaned back in his chair. “Move forward? There’s only one way to do that. I want to revise The Ashen King and relaunch it.”

I stiffened. Of course, he did. He was a perfectionist to his core, and Lady Seraphina’s review…my review…had gotten to him.

Arthur nodded approvingly. “That’s why I brought Leila here. She’s our best editor, and I trust her to help you refine the manuscript.”

Grayson let out a humorless chuckle. “And what if I don’t trust her?”

I refused to flinch. “Then I guess we’ll be wasting a lot of time.”

“Do you even believe this book is worth saving?”

I always believed honesty had always been my strength and my greatest flaw. So instead of sugar coating it, I said, “No.”

Arthur inhaled sharply beside me, and for a second, Grayson just stared at me but then, out of nowhere he laughed.

“Of course,” he muttered,  “Why would I expect anything different?”

I expected him to argue, to insist that The Ashen King was a misunderstood masterpiece. But instead, he exhaled deeply and stood. “I’ll work with you,” he said, and just as I started to feel the slightest relief, he added, “but under one condition, you come into this with an open mind. No bias. No preconceived notions. You treat this book like any other manuscript that lands on your desk.”

I lifted my chin. “Fine. But I have conditions too.”

He smirked. “Of course, you do.”

I leaned forward. “You take feedback. Real feedback. If I say something isn’t working, you don’t fight me just because you’re Grayson Hale and you have a cult following.”

He arched a brow. “Done.”

Arthur clapped his hands together. “Wonderful. Then we have a deal.”

As we stood to leave, Grayson’s voice stopped me.

“Oh, and Miss brooks?”

I turned, finding him watching me with quiet amusement.

“Let’s see if you’re as ruthless in person as you are behind a screen.”

My blood ran cold, but I masked it with a tight smile. He didn’t know. He was just poking at me.

At least, I hoped so because if Grayson Hale ever found out that I was Lady Seraphina Wrenford, this fragile truce would shatter before it even began. And this time, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to pick up the pieces.

PRESENT

I snap out of the memory at the sound of Elliot’s voice.

“Oh my God,” he gasps, “Were you just fantasizing about your upcoming sessions with Grayson Hale?”

I jolt upright, nearly dropping the ice pack from my hand. “What? No! Absolutely not.”

Elliot smirks. “Mmm-hmm. Sure. You definitely weren’t sitting there, all dazed and lost in thought, probably replaying every moment of your tragic meeting.” He sighs dramatically. “Was he brooding extra hard? Did he whisper ‘let’s see if you’re as ruthless in person as you are behind a screen’ in that dark, sultry voice of his?”

I scowl. “My job is to edit a manuscript, not spend time with authors. I’ll deal with him like I deal with any other writer professionally and efficiently.”

Elliot hums in fake agreement, clearly enjoying himself. “Yes, of course. I totally believe that. Because you’re so well known for your diplomatic and patient approach.”

“Send me Miss Lee’s email.” I barked and ignored his sarcasm, “Now.”

“Ah, back to barking orders. So romantic,” he sighs. “Fine, fine, I’ll send it. But just know, Leila, you can try to lie to yourself, but you cannot lie to me.”

I shoot him a glare as he sashays back to his desk, but he only grins. I turn back to my computer, mentally preparing myself for the long, painful road ahead.

Grayson Hale was about to be my biggest challenge yet. And I had no idea just how complicated things were about to get.