The minute the door opens, Ryan practically jumps out of his seat. Distress is etched all over his features. “Scarlett, I’m so sorry,” he says.

I don’t know what he has to be sorry for. I won’t allow the little seed of doubt Trina planted earlier to take root. Ryan couldn’t have done this. Not after everything he said yesterday.

“Mr. Whitlock, sit down,” Anastasios says, his voice even but edged with frustration. “Ms. Frye, please, come in.”

There isn’t an open seat next to Ryan, though I wish there were. The only chair available is on the other side of Trina, sandwiched between her and Anastasios. It sure feels like this placement is by design, though I can’t imagine why. No one knows about my relationship with Ryan. Unless…

“Thank you for coming,” Anastasios interrupts my thoughts as I sink, shaking, into the open chair. “I’m sure Ms. McBryde has apprised you of the situation?”

I nod, resisting the urge to gulp audibly. The tension in the room is almost tangible.

Careful not to look in Ryan’s direction, I ask, “Do you know who did this?”

“We do not,” Anastasios says, not unkindly. “Unless someone in this room is lying, it was someone on the outside. But rest assured, Ms. Frye, we have a plan to get out in front of this thing and mitigate the damage.”

My guess is that he’s talking about mitigating the damage done to the imprint—and to him personally. They are likely not talking about the damage they’re going to do to me. I know how this works. In cases like this, more publicity is inevitable. I’m going to need to tell my side of the story over and over again until my narrative becomes the accepted one.

A glance in Trina’s direction confirms it. Her red lips are pressed into a thin line, and she’s clutching her hands together on top of the table so hard that her knuckles are turning white. She fought for me before I got here. That, I’m sure of.

Just like my first meeting here—and my last at JMP—everyone seemingly starts talking at once. Phrases filter in and out of my consciousness as if the words themselves were floating in front of me, out of reach.

“We can get her on at least a couple major talk shows…”

“No guarantee about book clubs until the book is out, but we’ll start asking around…”

“Anything we can do. The more popular this thing is, the more JMP will look the other way…”

“Rush the release. Get it out while people are paying attention…”

“What about that daytime show with those women? They seemed to like her last time…”