When she left the apartment that evening, Liv triple-checked she locked the front door properly. As she broke into a jog away from the building, a shiver ran down her spine.

Each time Liv wrote, she couldn’t help thinking about Chloe nosing around. So, she jumped out of her skin when the desk phone rang. “Hello, Marlon,” she said, with her pulse racing.

“How do you know it’s me?” he boomed.

She rolled her eyes. “Because everyone else knows never to call Essie.”

“Ha, yes, got me there. Look, Meg’s been on my case again, asking when those golden pages are going to land. So, go on, hit me with it, Liv. Give me an update and please don’t say the first of November.”

Liv glanced at her work on-screen and the amount of notes she’d written to herself that morning. She noticed the date on the computer was July 1, exactly two months after Essie died. “She’s got her head down and is working hard,” she said. “If you’re lucky, you may get it on Halloween.”

“Ha, very funny,” Marlon said. “Remember our partnership, Liv. You keep cajoling Essie, and I’ll try to keep Meg out of her hair. When you get a chance, ask her about Dubfest. It’s in one month’s time and Meg’s desperate for her to go. We don’t need to be psychic to predict her answer.”

Liv quickly googled Dubfest. It was the Dubrovnik Book Festival, three days of literary events on the Croatian coast, taking place August 1–3. Photos on the festival website showed hundreds of publisher display stands and bookshelves. Goose bumps rose on her forearms when she saw all the rows of books and authors she’d heard of. It looked like her idea of heaven.

“Tell Essie if she goes, you can accompany her,” Marlon said.

Liv took a sharp intake of breath. She pressed a hand to her chest. “Me? Why?”

“You’re her assistant, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes.”

“Meg’s willing to pay, and Essie can fly business class. Work your magic on her, Liv. Tell her we’ll keep things nice and low-key. It’s a business event rather than a public appearance. We don’t want hordes of fans showing up and scaring her off.”

Liv wondered if he could hear her heart pounding. “What will she do there?” she said.

“Meet and greets, going to dinner with publishers. All the things she hates.”

“You make it sound so tempting.”

“It’s actually an amazing experience. I believe she used to go every couple of years. And then she stopped.”

Liv touched her tie. “Stopped? Why?”

Marlon made a rumbling sound. “I only know what Meg told me. I didn’t represent Essie back then.”

“How did you and Essie actually meet?” she said. The author and her agent weren’t an obvious fit.