And that’s how I find myself musing about fate and soulmates and marriage as I distractedly make my way through the hallways to my office, my mind occupied by my own contentment.

I’ve barely set down my bag and powered on my laptop when a small knock comes from the doorframe of my open door. My intern, Margie, pokes her head in.

“Oh good, you’re here,” she says breathlessly. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she sounded nervous.

“Come on in, Margie.” I motion for her to sit. “What’s up?”

She takes a step into the room, but lingers by the doorway, wringing her hands in front of her. “Mr. Martis was looking for you.”

“Really?” I ask. Then I snap my fingers when it dawns on me. “It must be because of that cover. There was a mistake. I’ll find him in a little while to explain—”

“I don’t think it was about the cover,” Margie interrupts, her eyes wide with worry. “He said you should meet him in the conference room right away when you got in. Miss McBryde is there with him, too, and Mr. Endersen and the publicity team. He did not seem happy.”

Trina, Casey, and Publicity? That’s strange, but this couldn’t be anything too terrible about Scarlett. She is currently either still snuggled underneath the covers in my bed or drinking my coffee and getting ready for her day.

“I’ll head over there right now. Thank you, Margie.”

She nods once and leaves quickly, as if staying anywhere near me is dangerous.

I walk quickly down the hall to the conference room where everyone Margie named is, indeed, sitting around the large table. When I walk in, they all look at me in unison and the room goes silent. A quick glance at Casey has me officially worried, because he looks about as panicked as he can get. Trina’s eyes are the only pair not on me; they’re downcast as she stares at something on the table in front of her.

“Mr. Whitlock,” Anastasios booms. “Thank you for coming. Have a seat.”

“Good morning, everyone,” I say as I sink into the chair in front of me. “What’s going on?”

Anastasios leans forward and folds his hands together on top of the table. “We have a very serious problem.”

“If this is about the cover—” I start, but he interrupts with a hand raised, palm out.

“This isn’t about the cover. Somehow, JMP found out that Scarlette Frye has signed with us, before we were ready to alert them. And even though we’ve assured them we were planning to disclose the information, they’re still very upset. So upset, in fact, that this does not bode well for my position here.”