I shuffle a little faster to open the door to the conference room for her. It’s a smaller room than the one we were in the last time she was here. Anastasios is already there, waiting. He has a presence about him that makes it easy to see how he climbed the ranks in the publishing industry. At fifty-two years old, his dark hair is now more salt than pepper. He wears it long enough to dust over his ears, and there’s a notable shock of gray running from his right temple over his forehead. His beard has even more gray in it, adding to his distinguished air. He is slightly shorter than me, but he doesn’t exude any less power for it. He’s always dressed in a three-piece suit—today’s is a charcoal gray with a blue dress shirt that pokes out the top, unbuttoned at the neck. He never wears a tie. I think he wants to look more approachable, though that’s hard to do when he turns heads every time he enters a room.

Usually, he’s commanding but also comforting. He has solutions to problems and answers to questions, which is something everyone wants in a boss, especially in an industry that thrives on negotiations and deadlines. But the tense silence that reappeared between Scarlett and me when I asked her to cancel her date has put me so close to the edge that I know I’m not going to be in a good place during this meeting.

Luckily, I don’t have to do much. Anastasios stands immediately when we enter the room, and Scarlett turns on her charm. I’ve seen her do this before; it’s like a veil she puts on in meetings and interviews like this, all bright smiles and easy laughter.

“Scarlett,” Anastasios says warmly, taking her right hand in both of his. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” she replies.

He releases her and motions to the chairs placed around a round table. “Please, let’s sit.”

We do, and I catch Scarlett adjusting the fabric on her blue skirt in a motion that means she’s nervous. Anyone who doesn’t know her as well as I do would miss it, but I’m hyperaware of her every move. I have to actively resist covering her fidgeting hand with my own and telling her it’s going to be okay.

“Thank you for meeting with me today,” Anastasios says politely.

Scarlett clasps her hands together on top of the table, leaning forward on her elbows. “Of course. Let’s cut right to the chase, shall we? I know you’re worried about me and what happened last time, but I can assure you that will not happen again.”

Anastasios’s eyes widening slightly is his only tell that he’s surprised. I, on the other hand, gape at Scarlett. What is she doing?