"Who isn't? Have you seen the movie Jaws?" I realized the list of phobias I was admitting to was quite extensive, and I hadn't even mentioned my fear of spiders, heights or roller coasters flying off their tracks. "How about you? I bet you're not scared of anything."
"Snakes."
"Snakes?"
"Yep, Indiana Jones had nothing on my fear of those slithering bastards. They should all die in the pits of hell."
I couldn't help laughing at the passion in his voice. It was cute.
"Ms. Blake," a voice called out from behind Alec. Instinctively, I looked around for my mom. Ms. Blake was so formal. It took a moment before it registered in my head that the voice was talking to me.
"Yes?" I answered, stepping away from the wall I had been slouching against.
"We're ready for you and your model," a woman said, blushing brightly when she nodded in Alec's direction.
"You need me too?" I asked.
She nodded. "We'd like the authors to introduce their models before each one is auctioned off."
"Like with a microphone?" I groaned as we followed her through a side door into the ballroom.
"Yes, ma'am," she answered respectfully, though she wasn't much older than me.
Alec leaned in to whisper in my ear. "Microphone phobia too?"
"Public speaking," I answered out of the side of my mouth.
He chuckled but didn't comment as his warm hand found the small of my back again.
We stepped onto a makeshift stage that had been set up on the far left side of the ballroom. With the paranormal theme of this year's event, the room was decorated top to bottom to resemble a dark and mysterious lair. Purple and magenta lights shining on the walls combined with the crystal chandeliers twinkling on the ceiling gave the illusion of movement as the music throbbed throughout the lair.
Alec let out a low whistle of admiration. "Swanky. This is something else." He turned to the girl who had fetched us and winked at her.
She beamed. Even under the dark purple lighting, I could see the bright red shade of her face. I couldn't blame her. Alec was intoxicating.
The assistant left us on the stage with the other models and authors. I edged closer to my friend Jennifer, and Tristan, the model she had used for some of her previous books and who also adorned the cover of her current release. Tristan was a veteran in the cover-modeling scene. Currently, he looked plain bored. His abs and pecs had graced more than a hundred romance novel covers. I knew from past conversations with Jennifer that he was hardcore. He maintained a daily regimen of exercise and buffed and waxed his entire body every single week. He also went to the tanning salon at least four times a week and was a dedicated vegan. His services came with a big price tag from what I understood, but readers loved him.
"Hey, Jennifer," I said, giving her a quick hug.
Tristan's bored expression disappeared the instant he took in Alec standing next to me. Watching the way he eyed Alec like he was a delectable treat made it clear what side his bread was buttered on. "Jennifer, this is Alec," I said, introducing them.
She shook Alec's hand, looking as nervous as I was. "Nice to meet you."
Tristan cleared his throat, waiting to be included in the introductions. "Oh, right," she said, shaking her head. "This is Tristan."
"Good to meet you." Alec gripped Tristan's hand firmly and patted him on the shoulder. Watching the almost giddy look on Tristan's face made me wonder if that was how I had looked the first time I saw Alec. I debated having a little fun with him, but I became distracted when a couple more people joined us on stage. Specifically, the author who would be my archenemy if I had one.
Samantha Tran and I started self-publishing at the same time and had naturally formed a friendship as we waded through the trenches together. She found greater success a little quicker than I had when her third book took off like a rocket. I was thrilled for her. It was encouraging to see someone I knew find a larger audience for their books. The way we had supported each other, it felt like a shared success. Somewhere between hitting a couple bestseller lists, Samantha decided our friendship was no longer necessary. Some of the personal thoughts we had shared with each other about our fears and insecurities had started being whispered back to me through social media. Of course, what she neglected to tell anyone was that some of the things she was giving me the embarrassing credit for saying had come from her mouth, not mine. The worst part was she did it all to fit in with a different crowd. Her crushing betrayal almost made me walk away from the business. It was like high school all over again, but so much worse. We were adults after all. Hell, we were supposed to be professional.
Eventually, Mom and Olivia stepped in to shake some sense into me. They basically told me to pull on my big girl panties and stop moping. Business was cutthroat sometimes, and all I could do was learn from the experience. Since then, my relationships in the industry became more guarded. I had developed plenty of friendships, but most were surface deep. Even those I trusted never got the full me. I saved it all for Olivia. If I needed to vent, bounce ideas or share exciting news, Olivia was my go-to person.
"Is something the matter?" Alec seemed to sense the tension that had slowly claimed my limbs.
I shook my head. I saw no reason to let him in on my troubles. It would do no good to stir the pot, and truthfully, deep down, I was embarrassed by the whole situation. Alec had already gotten a front row seat to the craziness I seemed to attract. There was no reason to include him in this drama too.
I pasted a fake smile on my face that felt heavy, but I bared the brunt of it. The lights around us began to swirl wildly as the big disco ball I had missed hanging in the ceiling began to spin. It reminded me of the times I used to go roller skating as a kid. The rink in our neighborhood was about thirty years past its heyday, but had remained a popular spot for birthday parties before kids hit middle school. After that it was no longer cool. I even had my ninth birthday party there. The thing I remembered most about that party to this day was the way my mom and dad skated around the rink together. I remember watching them and the way they had eyes for each other.
Maybe if I mapped my journey to becoming a romance writer, it had started that day. Even at nine years old, I knew I wanted to be a part of a love story that grand. A love that seemed to have no beginning and no end. It was perfect and I wanted it.