She nibbled her thumbnail until she summoned up the bravado to call him. She told the agency receptionist she was Essie Starling’s assistant and needed to speak to Marlon.

As she waited for him to answer, Liv practiced refining her accent and grammar. She’d once read the success rate of a writer getting a literary agent was six thousand to one. They were an elusive breed, and she was nervous about speaking to one in real life. It was something she’d dreamed of, but never in this way.

“Matilda? Is that you? Are you alright?” Marlon said in a booming voice, not the posh one Liv expected. He had a Birmingham accent so his pronunciation of vowels made the word right sound like roit, and you sound like yow.

“Sorry, it’s actually Liv... Essie’s new assistant,” she said.

“Another one?” he said. “I thought I was speaking to... Oh, never mind. Where’s Essie been hiding, Timbuktu? Is that why she doesn’t answer my emails?”

Liv laughed politely. “I’m calling about her deadline.”

“Oh, really? Fantastic. Hit me with it, Liv. When will I see her latest masterpiece?”

Liv ran her tongue around her teeth, considering how much she could tell him. “It’s still at the handwritten stage, so I need to type it up,” she said. “Then Essie has lots of editing to do. She still has to write the last eight chapters.”

The silence that followed sounded deafening. “Seriously?” Marlon said. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Liv shifted in her chair. “I understand Essie has until November the first to fin—”

“That’s over five months away,” Marlon interrupted. “It was due eons ago. Meg’s literally pulling her hair out. The schedule is planned, and her team is working on marketing. She wants a big hoo-ha around this one.”

“And that’s why I’m calling you.” Liv swallowed. “Essie’s finding writing really tough right now.”

“If it was that easy, everyone would do it.”

Liv’s stomach shrank. “But what if she needs more time?”

Marlon let out a low rumbling noise. “You and I need to be a team, Liv, pulling together. With all these delays, I’m expecting something brilliant. Unplug Essie’s phone, lock her door, buy her a horse’s nose bag so she can eat while she’s writing, whatever you need to do for her to finish this book. I don’t want to ask Meg for more time until we absolutely need it. It’ll push her over the edge. Call me anytime for a bit of support. You okay with that?”