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Chris had insisted she come out tonight, no matter what the publisher wanted. He’d walked away, forcing her to do it. She’d been about to tell the truth… and then he strolled in and stole the mic from under her nose.
He bowed her way. “Thank you, D. I am sorry to put you on the spot.” His eyes met hers. “Sincerely sorry.”
Her mouth opened, ready to tell him they needed to talk. Ready to grab that mic out of his hand if she had to. But he’d already turned away, and he was striding across the front, launching into his speech.
Daphne stood at the podium, desperately looking for a way to take this back, until a staff member sidled over and whispered, “You can step down now.”
You can step down now.
Zane is here.
You are no longer required.
Daphne’s cheeks burned, and she scrambled from the stage and fled into the stacks.
Daphne deserved an Oscar for her performance over the next hour. It helped that Sakura had found her, taken her outside, let her vent, and shared her fury at Chris’s interference. But eventually, Daphne had to go back inside. Go inside and sit next to him and smile and play assistant, as if nothing had happened.
She was glad her act fooled the readers. Fooling Chris was another thing. On the one hand, she wanted him focused on the readers. On the other, though, she couldn’t help hoping he at least noticed she was putting on a false face. Instead, when they were preparing the signing table, he squeezed her hand and said “I’ve got this” and smiled, and she wanted to scream.
He’d abandoned her during a crisis, insisting that she handle it herself, and just as she’d been doing exactly that, he swooped in and stopped her.
She remembered when he’d rescued her in the lake. She’d appreciated that because she’d actually been drowning. Tonight, she’d been floundering, but only because he damn well threw her in. She’d been keeping her head up, though. She hadn’t needed rescuing. If he thought she did, he could have found some way to check in with her first.
All he had to do was arrive five minutes earlier and talk to her. If that wasn’t possible, slip around the stacks, get to Sakura, and have the publicist pause the event while Chris and Daphne talked.
Daphne pushed that aside before her anger showed. Earlier, she’d been ready to come out because the readers deserved it. Now, they deserved her smiles and her kind words and the sense that absolutely nothing was wrong.
That was what she gave them: her undivided attention. If Chris noticed she wasn’t glancing his way, wasn’t refilling his water, wasn’t replacing his worn-out Sharpies, he didn’t give any indication. He just signed and chatted and occasionally squeezed her leg, as if to reassure her that he was there.
Nothing to worry about, little lady. The cavalry has arrived.
It was only when the line petered out that Chris finally seemed to realize something was amiss, leaning over to whisper, “Is everything okay?”
She could have laughed at that. Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek and said nothing, but he kept frowning at her, and the last few customers started frowning, too, realizing they didn’t have his full attention.
“I’m fine,” she murmured. “We’ll talk later. Focus on the readers.”
He did that, but when they wheeled in the stock cart, he turned to the manager and said, “I’m going to need a moment first.” He made a show of flexing and stretching his hand. Then he jerked his chin, motioning for Daphne to follow.
She hesitated, her annoyance sparking at that casual gesture, presuming she’d follow, acting as if she actually was his assistant, pestering him when he was working.
“Is everything okay?” he whispered when they found a quiet corner.
She stared at him. Was he seriously asking her that? His gaze was slightly to the left. As if avoiding her gaze? Was that nervous sweat on his temple?
No, she was seeing what she wanted to see. It was warm in here, and he’d been working hard, hence the sweat. If he was looking away from her, it wasn’t nerves—it was dismissal. Wanting to get on with this so he could get back to signing.
“D?” he said finally.
“No.” She ground out the word. “Everything is not okay. I was trying to admit I was Zane, and you swooped in and took over.”
“You were? It didn’t look like that.”
His brows knit in confusion, and her anger ignited.
“It didn’t look like that?” she snapped. “Why? Because I was stumbling and stammering and making a fool of myself? Because I’m not as smooth as you?”
“No, you just seemed—”
