Thomas he would not miss. But he would miss his assistant, Mary, and J.P. Of course it was Nora’s presence in his life he’d miss more than anything from his time in New York. She had become the embodiment of the city to him—reckless and wild, fascinating and beautiful, dark and dangerous, so spoiled and so very generous.

“So two weeks from now,” J.P. continued, “in the conference room we’ll have a going away party for Easton. I suggested all of us go out to the Four Seasons but someone vetoed that suggestion so blame Easton for his half-assed fare-thee-well.” A smattering of playful boos were thrown Zach’s way.

The meeting concluded and the staff started filing out. Mary gave him a hug on the way out and said, “Take me to California with you,” in a stage whisper in his ear. J.P., standing next to Zach, mouthed, “Not a chance” at her, and Mary departed wearing a faux pout on her face.

There were friendly shoulder pats and a few hearty handshakes from his fellow editors. Zach turned to ask J.P. something when he heard a smug laugh behind him.

“How’s Nora’s book coming, Zach?” Thomas Finley asked in his unctuous tone. “Coming hard and coming often?”

“The work is progressing very well, Thomas,” Zach replied, ignoring Thomas’s childish insinuations. “Thank you for asking.”

“Cracking the whip, are you?” he asked with a sneer. “Oh, wait, that’s her job.”

“Finley, that’s enough,” J.P. said, pointing an angry finger on his way out of the conference room. “Our writers deserve our respect.”

“Respect her?” Thomas snorted as soon as J.P. was gone. “If I paid her to put her boot on my back then maybe I’d respect her.”

Zach stuffed his papers in his messenger bag.

“I see Mary was right,” Zach said calmly.

“Right about what?” Finley demanded, his face reddening.

“About your professional jealousy. I’m sorry if you thought the position in L.A. should have been yours. The fact that you responded to my promotion with juvenile pranks is proof that you barely deserve this job, much less the chief managing editor position. Publishing is for adults, Thomas. It would help if you acted like one.”

“Zach, the only reason you got offered that job in L.A. was pure pity. J.P. got wind your wife was dumping you. After all, none of my writers have ever had to sleep their way to a six-figure advance.”

“None of your writers have ever earned a six-figure advance. And Nora will earn her advance like every other writer I’ve ever worked with—by writing her heart out. Nora and I are not sleeping together. The position is mine because I’m better at this job than you are. And this conversation,” Zach said emphatically, trying to shove past Thomas who stepped in front of the door to bar his way, “is over.”

“Not sleeping together? Really?” Thomas feigned shock. “Let me guess, she’s out of your price range.”

“You’re a child, Thomas.”

“And she’s a prostitute, Easton.”