by Christi Snow
And that meant it was time to go after her future. Hopefully, it would be with Brady.
Mac grinned at her. “I keep telling both you and Tommy that I’m always right. You should just trust the fact, never question it.”
She snorted out a laugh but then quickly sobered. “I also have some other news. I have a meeting tomorrow with Hodges Media to negotiate the purchase of my screenplay.”
The screenplay that Brady, his music, and his love inspired her to write. It was through writing and rereading it that she’d realized just how much she loved, needed, and wanted him in her life. Selling this screenplay was just a step in a series of steps she had to take to make sure she deserved getting him back...if he’d have her still.
Mac’s mouth dropped open. “You sent it to them?”
She nodded with a small, secret smile. It was something she had needed to do...for her and no one else. “But no one knows I’m the author yet.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And do you plan on revealing the fact before the meeting?”
She shrugged. “I honestly haven’t decided yet. I guess it depends on what they offer and their attitudes.”
Her entire life, she’d wanted to write. Her father had done everything in his power to tear down her self-confidence about her ability to do so. If Hodges Media wasn’t by far the best in the business, she would have gladly shopped her screenplay to another company. But she believed in this screenplay. Just like she believed in her love for Brady.
She’d read it as an editor like Mac had instructed and had been blown away. It wasn’t just ego when she said it was the strongest work she’d ever read. Her story deserved the best to put it out there into the world. That just happened to be Hodges Media.
“I’m proud of you,” Mac said. “And it should be noted that this just proves my point. I’m always right. I told you that screenplay was good.”
“Always right?” She rolled her eyes at that. “Sell that line to your husband. I don’t think I’m buying it yet.”
“So what does this mean for you? You just sold your place, and as far as I know, you haven’t bought another one to move into yet, have you?”
She shook her head and glanced over at the busy coffee counter.
He reached across the table and grabbed hold of her hand. “Please tell me you’re coming back and not moving to New York permanently.”
“I’m not moving to the city permanently. But I’m hoping to bring someone back with me who needs to have input about where I live in Denver.”
Mac’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and happiness. “You’re going after Brady.”
Nerves made her hands shake as she nodded. She had no idea if they had a shot at a real future, but she wanted to give it a try. “It may be too late...”
Although Brady still told her he loved her every time he texted or they spoke, she hadn’t said the same thing back to him yet.
She wanted to be with him in person the first time she said it. Hopefully, that would be tomorrow night.
TRYING TO SETTLE HER nerves outside the Hodges Media building, Emily opened the text she’d received from Brady that morning.
Brady: I’m flying back from Florida to New York today. I wish I were flying home to you. I love you, Emily. Forever. Have a great day.
She wiped her sweaty palm across the fabric of her suit’s pencil skirt, squared her shoulders, and strode through the front doors. Just one more step toward ensuring she had the future she wanted for herself. She could do this.
Because this deal was being drafted between her and the movie rights side of the company, she headed toward the South Tower where the media side of Hodges Media resided and took the elevator to the thirtieth floor.
As Mac’s literary agent, she had negotiated several movie deals for him with Hodges Media, so she had a good handle for what to expect from this meeting.
But when she walked into the conference room that the receptionist had directed her to, she began to rethink things. Rather than the movie group’s normal contract negotiator and agents, the room was filled with executive suits, including both her father and Austin in the back corner.
Emily’s stride faltered for a moment. “Am I in the wrong place?” She glanced back at the door that said it was the suite 30A she’d been directed to.
Miller Carlino, the head of Hodges Film Group, stepped forward with a predatory smile and his arm outstretched. “No, Miss Hodges. We’re here to talk to you about The Artist’s Soul. I understand you’re the author’s agent?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes.” Her heart rate sped up. This was highly unusual treatment for just a normal movie rights contract negotiation. “What’s going on?”
“Come in. Come in. We’ll explain all as soon as the author, HB Emilio, arrives.”
Emily cleared her throat. “HB isn’t attending.” She’d used the penname to avoid getting treated any differently, but for some reason, different was exactly what she was getting anyway.
She sent a questioning glance to her stepbrother, but he maintained his expressionless façade.
“I’ve been authorized to handle all the negotiations in this matter,” she said.
For a moment, Miller looked perturbed, but he managed to clear his expression quickly. “Okay, well, we can do that. That actually makes things easier since you’re familiar with the company.”
Miller was being surprisingly accommodating. Thankfully, Emily didn’t have to deal with the misogynistic asshole very often, but when she’d had to do so in the past, it had required her to bite her tongue because of his overbearing condescension. For him to be pleasant was an even bigger surprise.
“Would you like something to drink? A coffee or—” He gestured over to the minibar with a waitress waiting to serve them. A waitress to serve the dozen or so people in the room.
Wow. Emily had grown up in Hodges Media, but even this was a surprising twist to her.
She lifted her travel mug filled with coffee. “No, I’m set. Thank you, though.” She gave a small smile to the poor woman having to stand in the corner in this room filled with testosterone. Her father’s company had never been known for hiring women for the important positions. That was just one of the many reasons she’d chosen a gender-neutral penname.
“Okay, well, come to the table, have a seat, and we’ll get right to it.”
A black, professional binder lay in front of the chair where he had motioned her to sit. She still didn’t quite understand what was going on. Beside Miller, her father, and brother, there were nine other men in the room. Only a couple of them looked even vaguely familiar. She kicked herself for not paying better attention to the film side of the company, but she’d never wanted anything to do with the movie aspect of Hodges Media. Books and the written word were her things.
While everyone else sat, Miller propped a hip on the table. “Before we get to the details of the contract, I want to lay this all out here for you, Emily. We want this screenplay, and we’re ready to do what’s needed to ensure that the entire process is a success. Straightforward, you should know we want to put The Artist’s Soul into production right away for a Christmas 2019 release. We have the director onboard.”
Her foot began to bounce with excitement, but she didn’t want to reveal a single bit of her rocketing emotions. That was fast. Usually movie production took years, if not decades.
He gestured toward a younger man at the end of the table who gave her a two-fingered salute. “I’m sure you’re familiar with Jonathon Hart’s critically acclaimed work.”
No wonder the man looked familiar. He’d won an Oscar the last three years running and last year had the largest grossing movie of the year.
“We also have an award winning soundtrack in the can that’s perfect for this project. The composer is on a flight right now or else he’d be here with us this morning, too.”
On a flight? She knew a composer on a flight right now.
“Wait a minute. Are you talking about Brady Gresham’s sco
re?” No, there was no way. That was simply too big of a coincidence since his score had inspired the screenplay she’d written.
Yes, they’d turned him down for the Casablanca remake. Brady had been crushed, but they had told him they still wanted to buy the score. And right now, he was supposed to be flying into Newark.
“Yes, actually I am.” Miller frowned at her in puzzlement. “I’m surprised you’re familiar enough with his work to make that connection.”
From the corner, Austin sat up and studied her. He was onto her. She gave him an easy smile, shooting for an innocent expression. From his frown, she probably wasn’t successful.
“Well, the Greshams are fairly well-known in the music business,” she said slowly, trying to feign innocence.
Miller just grunted. “We’re fully prepared to put the reputation and backing of Hodges Media behind this film. We see great things with this screenplay and expect both record-selling ticket sales and Oscar nods.” He waved his hand at the binder. “You’ll see when we get to the contract that we’ve laid out an extensive media package for the movie, including national commercial promotional tie-in and book sales. I think you’ll find our figures to be very generous for a first time author.”
Miller hesitated as if to wait while Emily gushed at the overwhelming package he was presenting. While inside she was squealing—this was huge—she knew that for them to put this kind of package together that they really wanted the screenplay. She needed to exploit that, but honestly, she didn’t need any more money.
“This sounds amazing, but I’ll need producer credits for the author.”
“Done,” Miller said without hesitation. “What else?”
She exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Austin. He just grinned at her and gave her a tiny nod to keep pushing. “The author would like to write the book adaptations. Also, Brady Gresham needs to receive a five percent royalty rate on the ticket sales.”
Miller had been nodding along, like none of this was a problem, but he stopped and tilted his head at her. “I don’t understand. Brady Gresham?”
“Yes, I’ll tell you something. This entire screenplay was inspired by his score. That you realized that without knowing all the facts is proof of how much of an inspiration his music was to the author and how important it is for the movie.”
“Okay. I...” Miller glanced around the room. “I don’t understand. How do you even know that?”
She glanced down the table. Austin’s grin wreathed his entire face, and from the scowl Emily’s father shot her, he was beginning to realize there was more to this whole thing, too.
She refocused on Miller. “Are you in agreement?”
He glanced over at her father who gave him a slight nod. “Yes, but...”
“Show me where to sign. I’m sure everything else is in order.”
He frowned at her and one of the lawyers stood. “I’m sorry, Miss Hodges. This contract needs to be signed by the author. I understand that you’re the author’s representative, but—”
“No, I’m not the author’s representative. I am the author. It’s nice to meet you. I’m HB Emilio.”
“I knew it,” Austin muttered from the corner.
Her father half rose out of his chair and squinted at her. “Are you serious?”
Warmth filled her chest. He’d always eschewed her writing as immature. He’d torn her talents down for so many years that she’d abandoned pursuing her own writing career, instead trying to be happy with living the dream through her clients like Mac.
“Yes.” She rose from her chair, too, mainly to stabilize her shaking knees. “I wrote the screenplay when I spent Christmas with Brady in Colorado...when he was writing his score.” She straightened her shoulders and looked to Miller and the rest of the men sitting around the table. “I apologize for misleading you, but as you might expect, I didn’t want my name to have any influence on whether this project got a fair shake or not.”
Because if her name had been known, it never would have been given a shot.
She gave them all her widest smile. “I can see now that it will. I’m very pleased with what you’ve presented and believe Hodges Media is the right company to produce this movie. Let’s get on with it.”
Her father stormed out of the room.
Austin winked at her and cupped her shoulder as he walked by before following her father out.
Miller’s mouth dropped open at the abrupt departure, but then he straightened his tie and forced a smile. “This is a surprising turn of events.”
“It’s okay, Miller. He’ll get over the surprise of me being competent.” Her father was mostly retired. He only came out for the most lucrative deals. To know that he’d shown up here today was almost better than the actual contract. Almost.
She could see the understanding in Miller’s expression. It was no secret that she and her father had a somewhat confrontational relationship.
“Well, yes, I can see why you chose to take a penname. Thank you for clearing it up before we proceeded any further. Shall we go over the details of the contract before you sign?”
“Yes, let’s.” She tightened her fists in her lap to keep from jumping up and dancing a little jig of celebration. She’d done it. She couldn’t wait to tell Brady.
TWO HOURS LATER, EMILY exited the conference room with a gigantic weight lifted off her shoulders. She’d done it, and hot damn, she needed to call Brady. Had his plane landed yet? She headed toward the elevator with a wide grin on her face as she powered on her cell phone since she’d silenced it for the meeting.
She had a text from Brady, but Austin came running down the hall before she could open it. “Emily!”
“Hey, you.” She smiled at him, fully expecting him to sweep her up in congratulations.
But he didn’t.
His expression was grave as he gave her a solemn hug instead. She froze in panic. “What’s wrong?”
He pulled away, a scary look in his eyes.
Her stomach plummeted to her feet.
“I just heard a special news report,” he said. “Brady’s plane has crashed, and they haven’t found the wreckage in the ocean yet.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Emily shook her head, ice filling her veins as she stared at Austin. Brady’s plane had crashed? That couldn’t be possible. “No.” Her shaking hand held her phone out to him. “I just got a message from him. I was about to open it. It couldn’t have been his plane. He’s fine. He just texted me.”
Austin’s grave eyes shut as if in pain.
She pulled the phone back and clutched it to her chest. With trembling fingers, she opened the text box and his message popped up.
Brady: I love you with all my heart. I’m sorry we didn’t have more time.
That sounded like a goodbye.
A sob broke out of her chest. “No, no, no, no.” Her legs crumpled, and she sank to the floor.
This couldn’t be happening. She hadn’t told him she loved him yet.
They had to have more time. They were supposed to have more time. Time to get her life together and sorted. Time for her to show him all the ways she loved him.
Time.
Together.
Her phone rang. She scrambled to answer it. “Brady?”
“No,” a strained feminine voice said. “Emily, this is Lily, Brady’s mom.”
“Tell me he’s okay. Please.” She was sobbing, but she couldn’t even care. Her world was collapsing around her.
Lily’s breath hitched. “They’re searching for the wreckage. Do you need me to send a plane to Denver to bring you to New York?”
“I’m already here. I’m in downtown Manhattan. Where can I go?”
“The Coast Guard Station. I’ll text you the address. They’re searching for the wreckage.” Lily’s voice broke. “Emily, you need to pray.”
BRADY AWOKE ON A GASP, inhaling a mouthful of freezing saltwater. He choked and coughed, panic clutching at his chest as the cold water pulled him under again. He c
lawed through the jagged waves, trying to get air.
Strong hands grabbed him, and he broke through the surface again.
The ocean.
The plane had hit something.
Maybe a bird.
The pilots had tried to save the flight, but they’d lost control and crashed. He’d only had time to send a single frantic text to Emily to tell her he loved her.
“Hold on,” Daniel yelled as he dragged Brady onto a piece of wreckage. “You aren’t...going to...die out here.”
Blood covered Daniel’s forehead, mixing with the water spraying up from the ocean. His teeth chattered, and he was deathly pale.
Brady kicked his legs and forced his numb fingers to grab the ragged piece of metal.
The water was so cold. They wouldn’t survive long. “Do you... think the pilot...managed...a distress...call.” He couldn’t stop his teeth from chattering and couldn’t feel his legs anymore.
“Don’t...know.” Daniel held his arm from the other side of the piece of metal, the only thing holding the two of them afloat.
Brady searched the churning water, but he didn’t see anyone or anything else. Had the pilots survived? How the hell had the two of them survived? How long would it take to freeze to death? From the fact he couldn’t feel anything below his chest, he didn’t think it would be long.
Daniel’s eyes had shut.
“Daniel!”
“Whu...” His words were mushy and his eyes fluttered open.
Brady shook his arm where they clung together. “You have to stay awake. You hit your head. What else hurts?”
Daniel gazed at him with glazed, unseeing eyes. “So cold... So tired.”
“I know,” Brady cried. “But we have...to keep fighting.”
Daniel’s eyes rolled shut again.
Fear clung to Brady like a second skin. What if he never got the chance to see Emily again?
