She yanked her hand out of his grasp, not bothering to keep her anger out of her tone. “Not even if I want to submit my book for publication.”

Nash paused in front of the open cabinet, where he’d been reaching for two champagne flutes, his dimples disappearing as his smile flattened into a grim line. “Actually, it hasn’t been sent to an editor yet. All of that was unofficial chatting, because Macon doesn’t officially represent you yet.”

“Oh, you didn’t decide that for me, too?” she asked, each word as brittle as she felt at that moment.

“I don’t understand why you’re mad.” Nash set the champagne bottle down on the counter as the dogs circled his feet. “This is a good thing.”

“Uh-huh,” she said in that tone, the one a woman gets in that moment between her heart breaking and the actual pain of it hitting, gutting her and leaving her empty. Groucho’s and Mary’s ears perked up at the sound, and they scurried out of the kitchen, their tails tucked. “And when I gave you copies of my book to read, what did I tell you?”

Nash crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Not to give feedback, and I didn’t.”

Who in the fuck was he to take a defensive posture here as if she was the one who was wrong?

“I also told you that I didn’t want to publish them,” she said, fighting to keep the emotion out of her tone and off her face. “They aren’t ready.”

“A publisher is ready to pay a million dollars for it,” he said, throwing his arms up in the air, his frustration as obvious as the vein bulging in his temple. “I’m pretty sure that means it’s ready.”

“And you know best, right?” God, why did this hurt so much? She should shut up, not give in to the hurt and heartache that would let him label her as hysterical or overreacting, but she couldn’t help herself. All of it just came pouring out in strained sentences that pushed their way through the emotion making her throat raw. “I’m just the silly woman who needs to get out of the way when it comes to making decisions even if they involve me? It’s a good thing my dad put that clause in his will or who knows what I’d be up to.”

“I am not like your dad,” he all but roared at her.

“Really?” she scoffed, pain streaking through her entire body like a million electric shocks. How could she have been so oblivious to what had been right in front of her face the entire time? “Did you not just make a major, life-altering decision for me, not only without any of my input but by doing something I’d expressly said I didn’t want?”