We focused on the interview and avoided eye contact as we went through it and I made suggestions if I thought Jake could answer a question better. We were sticking to Hayley’s lines about the unfortunate article and when Jake repeated the same answer about lawyers looking into it, I couldn’t stop a small sigh from escaping my lips as I listened to him parroting what she had told him to say.

‘What was that?’

‘Huh?’ I looked up from my phone in surprise at Jake’s sudden, demanding tone. He was staring across at me again, and the eye contact was startling. ‘What was what?’

‘That sigh. You have something to say, Freya, so why not go ahead and say it?’

There he went again, making me want to say things I shouldn’t. The challenge in his eyes was impossible to back down from, however. ‘Fine. You know I think the statement you gave after the article first surfaced was a mistake, so yes, sticking to it now feels wrong. I think you could be more honest about it all and then maybe your readers would understand and your publisher would see that signing you again is a safe bet. Right now, I don’t think they know what to do.’

‘Hayley feels differently,’ Jake replied.

I nodded. ‘Yes. But Hayley is looking at it as your agent, not as a romance reader like me. I love romance; I was a huge fan of your books and it hurt to hear that you don’t care about them, that you only write them to make money. Also, that you don’t believe in the happy ever afters that you create,’ I said, everything coming out in a rush.

Jake raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you really believe in happy ever afters?’

‘I hope they exist. I haven’t had the kind of romance in my life like you write about, no,’ I admitted. ‘But I hope it is out there, and that I will find it one day. I know all your readers feel that way too. So, hearing that you don’t believe in what you’ve written made us all not believe in it either,’ I told him honestly.

He looked a little bit stunned and I saw a flicker of something behind his eyes – regret, or guilt maybe? Then he shook his head. ‘I don’t know if I believe in love either.’

‘Then why are you here?’ I asked, exasperated. I threw my hands up in the air. ‘Why come all the way to New York to try to save your career if you don’t believe in it? If you don’t care? Why carry on writing romance? Even if you need the money, you could write something else. Crime like Davis Mulberry, for instance,’ I said, unable to help myself from bringing up his arch-enemy.