The Sweetest Deception

-2-

Roman

I really didn't even mean to follow her, yet here I am, watching over her as she hurls her phone out into the abyss. She really has quite the temper apparently.

When I saw her in the gym, something about her just piqued my interest. I can't quite put my finger on it and it's really starting to irritate me if I'm being honest.

She really isn't anything special to look at. Jet black hair that falls in soft waves to her mid-back, hazel eyes from what I could see. It's obvious she works out frequently but definitely nothing over the top. Average height. There really isn't anything about her that stands out physically.

Over the last several hours, I've come to the conclusion that it has to be her aura. The way she carries herself is unlike anything I've witnessed before. One moment, she seems meek, almost like a timid little mouse. The next, something triggers her anger and there's a darkness that rolls through her body. That moment reminds me of a thunderstorm right before the first lightning strike and the thunder that follows right after. The moment before all hell breaks loose.

Maybe that's what it is. I've always been attracted to the chaos and that radiates off her in waves when she's angry.

What in the world am I getting myself into?

Shaking my head to clear the thoughts, I refocus just in time to see her stretch and rise to her feet before dusting herself off. That stretch has to be the cutest thing I've ever seen. It's like the weight of the world has lifted from her shoulders for just a moment, allowing her to truly breathe again.

As she heads back down the trail, the weight resettles and I feel almost a bit sad. The carefree spirit Jade carried just moments earlier is gone and replaced with the storm clouds again.

What's got you so down, sweet girl? Trouble at home? With friends maybe? Perhaps at work? My mind drifts for a bit as I watch her walk slowly back toward civilization. Before I can even catch myself, I'm wondering who has hurt this poor girl and fantasizing about how their blood would look smeared across my hands.

I'm not supposed to be that guy anymore. I guess old habits die hard though, especially when it's something you enjoyed. I learned at a fairly young age that the world isn't fair by any stretch of the imagination. Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands and find your own justice. Sometimes you have to be the voice for the people who don't have their own anymore. And that's exactly what I want to do for Jade right now.

Snap.

Fuck.

In the silence, the sound is absolutely deafening. Jade instantly turns toward me, seeking out the source of the sound. The sun is to my back so I know it will be impossible for her to see anything, but the possibility of being found out has me on edge suddenly.

I really should have been paying more attention to where I was stepping. Fucking idiot.

When she can't easily identify the source, she quickly switches from fight to flight, taking off at a dead run back toward safety. Although, for just a split second, I'm sure I saw her shiver, as if she could feel my presence without even knowing who I am or why her body reacted at all. Smirking slightly, I slowly make my way toward home, hoping to put all this behind me and forget about her entirely.

***

Last night was spent tossing and turning. I'm pretty sure I didn't get a full hour of sleep all night. Every time I would doze off, the image of Jade, skin covered in goosebumps, standing on the dusty trail, comes barreling into my dreams. Each time, I wake up sweating, panting for breath.

Around 4am, I finally had enough and climbed out of bed, making my way to the office. If I can't sleep, I might as well get some work done.

Starting up my computer, I stir some creamer into my coffee and open up my emails. I didn't check them last night so there are tons to go through this morning but one in particular catches my eye.

It's a new editing request from an author going by the name of J. Adams. The writer has sent a 152-page manuscript of a romance novel. This would be their debut novel. Normally I refuse this type of work, just because debut authors typically don't listen to what I have to say about their work and it's a gigantic pain in my ass. But something about this one has me reconsidering.

After replying to a couple other emails, scheduling a few pressing meetings, and booking a hotel for my upcoming trip, I settle in and open the manuscript. I wanted to say no, but it keeps pulling at my brain, so here we are.

About six chapters in, I start to realize this book is purely fantasies written out in vulgar detail. This is every sexual desire this author has ever had come to life. And it's hot as fuck. Hopefully this person has a partner with half a brain cell because everything they want is laid out in black and white in this book. All you'd have to do is crack the cover and you would know everything you would ever need to do to satisfy them to their core.

I make it to chapter eight before I have to take a break, deciding to research the author a bit. Maybe that would give me a little better idea on the writing style and best way to approach them with my professional opinions. The book is fantastic so far. With a little tweak here and there, I sincerely feel it could be a bestseller. That's a subject I try to approach gently though. Inflating an author's ego is not something that typically goes well at this stage of writing. They get the big head and then stop listening, causing the book to be mediocre at best once it hits print.

A quick Google search doesn't yield anything valuable. It's a common name, which I assume is probably the entire point. Facebook does a little better but still nothing completely solid. It narrows it down quite a bit though, making the Instagram search quick and to the point. Got it. And I'll be damned.

My little thunderstorm.

Her name pops up instantly, showcasing a picture of her and some guy, who I'm assuming is her boyfriend. They're both smiling and happy, enjoying a beach vacation somewhere. My stomach flips, so I focus on scrolling through the page, trying to find anything about this book.

Seven weeks ago, she posted just the title. No other information.

With my hunch verified, I scroll a little farther into her social media, trying to find any tidbit about her I can manage. I'm oddly curious about who she is as a person, not just an author. I want to know what makes her tick.

There are pictures of her dog, a fuzzy Australian Shepherd with the bluest eyes. I find a few snaps of food here and there. A couple pictures with the guy in her profile picture, though I can't for the life of me figure out what she sees in that guy. From what I've seen, he's the cookie cutter, all-American guy. Blond, green eyes, athletic, high school jock type guy. I'd wager he's just as boring in bed as he is in conversation. Surface level at best.

Whatever. Enough of that, I think, trying to clear away those thoughts. I really need to refocus on reading her manuscript and decide if it's even worth an edit or not. That is my job, after all.

Another ten minutes of rereading the first paragraph and still not managing to comprehend a single word, I lean back away from the desk and scrub my hands through my hair and then down my face, frustrated to my core. All I can think about is her face. I knew better than to look up her social media, but I had to know for sure that I was right and it was her.

Dear J. Adams,

I received your manuscript and would love to review and edit it. However, this is going to require an in-person meeting so I can get to know you and your style.

This is not my normal requirement, but I am having trouble settling into your story and feel this would help the process along.

Meet me at the old railroad café at 1PM tomorrow and we can further discuss your work. Tell the hostess my name and she will take care of the rest.

-Roman Grato

I hit send and close my laptop before I can remind myself that I'm a damn idiot and change my mind. I've never met a client in person, but there's just something about this girl. I have to get close to her, and if I need to use my career to do that, then so be it.