“Get in!” he ordered and I chuckled.
“Nice try, junior, but no thanks.” I slammed the door and kept on moving.
I could hear the car revving behind me. The kid must have restored it completely; it looked gorgeous. I hugged my clutch to my body and headed down the street, hoping to finally find a cab.
Jason drove right passed me. I kept my head down, not wanting to give in and look at him driving away. The car then stopped. He opened his car door, muttered some swear words and marched right towards me. He lowered himself and picked me up, throwing me over his shoulder.
“Put me down!” I cried, but he ignored me.
He reached his car, opened the passenger side door and gently put me in. I seriously thought he was going to throw me inside. He then made his way to the driver’s side and slid in.
“You realize you left your car idling here in New York City? It could have been stolen,” I yelled.
“That’s how crazy you make me!” he roared. “Now just be a good girl and let me drive you home in peace.” He gritted his teeth.
I rolled my eyes at him. “Trust me, junior, I will.”
I inched as far as I could from him and stared out the window with my arms crossed. He slid across, catching me off guard. He reached for the seatbelt and buckled me in. He then drove me home, both of us not uttering one word.
My morning tea smelled fantastic as I listened to my new editor trying to rip me a new one.
“Kassia, you need to write faster, there is no other way around it. We can’t keep pushing the publishing date back.” The asshole didn’t have a pleasant bone in his body. He was the one deciding when the dates were, not me.
“Frank, I can’t make up the ideas in my head whenever you feel I can. Writing is about experiencing and right now, I'm not feeling it!” I shouted back. He stayed silent for a while.
“Well, figure it out!” he snapped and hung up.
That was it. I had enough of his shit. I’ll figure it out for you, all right. I thought as I picked up my phone and dialed my agent.
“Hey, Bella! What’s up?” she sang.
“Hey Tiff. I’m having issues with the new editor. If they don’t change him, I'm not bothering with writing them another book.”
She muttered a small fuck.
“What’s he doing?” she asked.
“Well, yelling at me to write faster and trying to tell me what to write doesn’t do it for me,” I barked.
She breathed heavily.
“The fucker is the son of the publishing house’s CEO. I’ll get you a new editor, but tell me, darling, what’s the real issue?” she asked. God, I loved her.
“I’m writing about a group of SWAT cops who are vamps, and I don’t have enough info to write about it.”
“Gotcha!” she laughed. “I’ll set something up for you. Give me a few days.”
I hung up and finally enjoyed the cup of tea I wanted.
A few days went by and, true to Tiffany’s word, the girl had set me up. She picked me up and dropped us off in front of the New York SWAT team building.
“Hey, plus I get to go in with you.” She grinned.
We headed up the stairs and through the doors to a security area.
“May I help you?” asked an older lady. The phones around her kept ringing, but she focused on us.
“Yes, I'm Tiffany Race and this is Kassia Preston. I was told I could have a tour,” she said so sweetly it nearly hurt my ears.
Tiffany was petite, platinum blonde and sharp as a knife. The girl knew business and knew how to use everyone around her. She said it was ‘because she was so cute’ and that no one could resist her charm.
“OH, MY GOD! You’re Kassia Preston? I love your books!” The lady cried out, nearly jumping out of her seat. “I love Drake. He’s so dreamy.”
I smiled at her. “Thank you,” I said shyly.
Tiff leaned in. “I’ll get her to sign your book,” she whispered and pointed at my book which rested on the secretary’s table, “but first, let us in.” She smiled.
“Oh, yeah! No problem.” She had us fill out some information and security questions and then handed over two visitor passes. “Just go down the hall and Officer Gab will escort you two.”
Tiff clipped the pass on my jeans. “There! You look so cute now,” she mocked.
“Do you use your super charm on everyone?” I asked.
“Of course I do. How else would I get things done?” She took my arm and interlocked it with hers, as she led us both down the hall to a tall, ‘built like a building’ man named Officer Gab.
“Hello, ladies, I'm Gab.” Gab was much older than us, maybe in his late forties, but he was fit. “So I hear you two want a tour of our facilities. Heard it was for a writer,” he said, smiling at Tiff.