Best Seller

by Delta James

  “Gail, please don’t be that way. I thought maybe you’d let me buy you dinner at the Savoy Grill.”

  Gail looked her up and down as if assessing if she’d put on weight.

  “Regardless of what you want to do in the future, you have a contract with my firm for your current Roark Samuels’ novel. You have a deadline. You don’t have time to have dinner with me… or anyone else.”

  Sage rocked back as if Gail had struck her. She could understand Gail being upset, but the thought they might be able to find a way to work together was squelched—once and for all.

  “You were nothing before I found you on that silly fanfic page, and without me, you’ll be nothing again. No one will want to read your books, and I’ll blacklist you with every decent publisher, editor, and cover designer I know. You’ll rue the day you crossed me,” Gail hissed.

  “No, but I do regret having thought so highly of you in the past. Obviously, I was mistaken. Take care, Gail.”

  Sage turned her back and returned to her table to finish packing away her things. While she waited for Gabe, she called the airline and was able to change her ticket to one with an open return, so she and Gail wouldn’t have to fly seated next to each other. After some thought, Sage decided to stay a bit longer in London. She then spoke with Felix at the Savoy, who was happy to extend her stay at the hotel.

  She slid into the SUV next to Gabe.

  “I understand from Felix you’ll be staying with us a while longer.”

  “Yes. I think I’d like to do some sightseeing and absorb some atmosphere. Don’t worry, I’m not expecting you to be my personal chauffeur.”

  “It’s not the worst duty I could pull. It would probably be safest if you used cabs as opposed to the bus or the tube.”

  “I thought, given the location of the Savoy, I’d do a lot of walking.”

  “Do me a favor and don’t go out after dark without an escort. London is a beautiful city and for the most part, pretty safe, but we still have no idea who sent that envelope to you.”

  “True, but nothing else has happened.”

  “I know, but still better safe than sorry.”

  Chapter 5

  Sage spent the next few days taking private car tours, arranged by Felix, and walking the immediate area of the Savoy. While at the Tower of London, she struck up a conversation with one of the Yeoman Guard Extraordinary, commonly called Beefeaters. He had offered her a personal tour in the name of research, so she dismissed the driver, tipping him for his service. She was allowed to stay within the Tower walls as they closed down for the evening.

  “Shall I call you a cab, Miss?”

  “No, thank you. I’m going to grab something to eat, then head back to the hotel. Thank you again for the time you spent with me. I love having these kinds of details; it makes the setting so much richer and more detailed.”

  “Have a good evening, Miss.”

  Sage found a local pub and had dinner before heading back to the Savoy. Walking out into the evening, she didn’t see any cabs but did see the Tower Hill tube station. More detail for her books. She headed to the station and jogged down the steps. The first thing that struck her was how much cleaner it was than the subways she’d been in before. She stood in the middle of the station, observing everything and taking notes. The crowd was bustling, but no one seemed to jostle anyone else. The smell of coffee and baked goodies permeated the space, punctuated by the swoosh of the trains as they arrived and departed.

  One of the ticket sellers was kind enough to tell her which train and platform she would need to use. The train was pulling into the station when she was shoved violently, stumbling toward the edge of the landing, only barely catching herself before falling. A train station guard grabbed her and pulled her back.

  “Careful, Miss. You need to watch where you’re going. If you’d fallen, you could have been badly hurt if not outright killed.”

  Sage looked behind her but could only see the milling throng of people trying to get to their own destinations.

  “I was pushed.”

  “I very much doubt that. Probably just someone not watching where they were going.”

  Not wanting to belabor the point and sound like a crazy American, Sage just nodded, then hopped on the next train heading her way.

  “Ms. Matthews,” Felix hailed as she entered the Savoy.

  “Felix, I thought you agreed to call me Sage… especially since I’m staying here for a while.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but not in the lobby. It would be unseemly. I’m off duty but was glad to see you come in. We do worry about you. Gabe asked that you give him a call in the morning.”

  “Will do. Thanks, Felix.”

  She headed up to her room, took a shower, then settled down to write. Normally, the Roark Samuels novels practically wrote themselves. She had a plot—more of a formula—and could churn out a new book in less than three weeks, but this one just wouldn’t come. She’d been trying to get into it for the past week. She had hired a writing coach who had been brutally frank that she needed to take Roark in a different direction—give him more depth and dimension. The coach was insistent that she needed to get at least three or four chapters done.

  Watching her struggle, he could feel the barrier that divided them weakening and his strength increasing. In the past, when he’d been able to slip his bonds, it had felt as though the veil was filled with holes, and he’d oozed out of a great many of them. But now, when he touched it, it felt spongy and soft, as though it would give way completely.

  He knew from Felix that she had extended her stay in London indefinitely. That was good. The longer they were here in the Savoy, the better. He felt closer to her and was better able to keep tabs on her.

  Given the way he’d seen the hotel’s head of security watching her ass, once he was through, he’d have to make it clear to him that while he appreciated all the man had done for her, Sage Matthews was off-limits.

  Holmes had managed to keep the Yard out of it officially but had spoken more than once with the Sheriff’s Office. He worried Sage was starting to get too comfortable. If someone meant to do something to her, her inattention could get her hurt… or killed.

  “Aaarrrgghhh!” Sage said, pushing away from the desk and standing.

  Stretching, she pulled off her robe—she really had the most voluptuous figure. He wanted nothing more than to get his hands on her in the flesh, so to speak. She’d been shopping the day before and had picked up some better lingerie. The bras were fine, but she would soon learn panties were a thing of her past. Grabbing a bra, leggings, and a sweater, Sage got dressed. Had she been at home, she’d have cranked up the music and just danced and sang until she was so tired she could go to sleep or inspiration hit her, which would lead to her writing for several hours. She pulled on her pair of red, LL Bean, fur-lined slippers and headed out of her room.

  Where the hell did she think she was going this time of night?

  Sage began wandering the common areas and halls in search of inspiration, finding none.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Matthews, may I be of assistance?” the night-time concierge asked, a pretty blonde with long hair she most often wore in a French braid.

  Caught up in her own musings, Sage was startled. “No, thanks, Corinne. I just can’t sleep, and Roark’s being difficult. I keep hoping if I wander his home turf, so to speak, something will come to me.”

  “I can’t tell you how many of us love your books and Roark. We often think we spot little glimpses of him now and again… as do guests.”

  Sage laughed. “Really? Like he’s haunting the place?”

  “Not such a far-fetched idea. The Savoy has several resident ghosts. We like to think Roark would keep us safe from any and all of them if they decided to do anything unseemly. Perhaps if he’d been here, the little girl who haunts the fifth floor wouldn’t have died so mysteriously. Then there’s the wailing woman. Trudy from the front desk now swears it’s because she’s done something naughty, and
Roark has her over his knee.”

  Sage laughed as Corinne fell in beside her, escorting her into some of the back areas where guests were normally not allowed. She was finding her excellent company as they meandered through some of the grand halls and rooms of the luxurious hotel.

  “Did Richard Harris really live here?”

  “Oh, yes, Miss. He had become a favorite of the staff, always a kind word or a way of making people laugh. He was quite sick with Hodgkin’s Disease. Felix swears when they wheeled him out on the gurney to the ambulance, he called to the onlookers, ‘It was the food! Don’t touch the food!’”

  Sage laughed.

  “We’ve had several well-known individuals who chose to stay with us permanently and are vaunted for our Writer in Residence program. Have you thought about staying on with us? I know upper management would be thrilled.”

  “Really?” Sage turned and looked at the young woman, the barest glimmer of an idea beginning to tickle her brain. “Given what I write? I mean, I know the books are popular, but they aren’t exactly great literature.”

  “Says who? They might not be stuffy, but they’re fun and exciting, and you always present the hotel in a wonderful light. I overheard one of them say they couldn’t buy that kind of good press.”

  Sage grinned. “Do you think you could arrange that for me? Maybe for the next few months?”

  “That would be lovely, and I’d be delighted to help. If you’re planning to write, I’ll have an ergonomic desk chair brought up to your suite and can arrange for either a larger monitor or an entire desktop computer.”

  “No, no… I love my laptop’s keyboard, but a large monitor would help with the eyestrain. A really comfy chair for writing and a small printer would be great.”

  “I’ll see that they are set up for you tomorrow. What are you working on?”

  “I’m trying to finish the last Roark Samuels’ novel…”

  “Last? Oh, please don’t kill him off. If you don’t want to write them anymore, at least give him a happy ending…”

  “Corinne, haven’t you been paying attention? Roark always gets a happy ending,” Sage teased.

  Corinne giggled. “Right you are and just as he should, but make him fall in love… really in love, and get his own happily ever after. Felix says you’ve been taking tours. Have you been to the British Museum?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Why don’t you let me arrange a personal guided tour while we get your room set up for you? We’ll make the necessary changes to accommodate your personal preferences while you’re out. If you make note of what you’d like us to stock in the room for you, we’ll ensure you have everything you need.”

  “That would be wonderful. If I could ask you to not put through Ms. Vincent’s calls, I’d be most appreciative.”

  “That won’t be a problem. Felix and Gabe told everyone how nasty she was to you, and we all decided we don’t like her. Have you checked your messages? Trudy says word is out you’ve left Ms. Vincent’s firm, and there are several publishers trying to reach you.”

  “Really?” Sage asked, astonished. “I knew several people heard at the signing event, and I have their cards. I should probably call them, especially those here in Great Britain.”

  “I think it would be wonderful if your new publisher was here in London. If you like, we can arrange for a secretary or personal assistant, even if you only need him or her for a day or two.”

  Sage stopped and turned to Corinne. “If you could have the messages sent up with my breakfast and arrange for that tour of the museum while you get my room set up, that would be really helpful.”

  Corinne grinned. “I would be happy to arrange all of that for you. Any idea how long you’d like to stay with us?”

  “Let’s say a minimum of three months, then we’ll revisit it at two months.”

  “Very good, Ms. Matthews.”

  “Please, if I’m going to be staying here, can everybody just call me Sage? Felix has said it would be improper in the lobby, but at two in the morning, Ms. Matthews is awfully formal.”

  “It would be my pleasure… Sage.”

  Sage gave her arm a squeeze and headed back to her room, the very beginning of a revised plan for her future starting to take place. A prolonged stay in London would mean letting Charlie and others know so her car and home would be cared for in her absence.

  The next morning dawned bright and clear. The words still didn’t want to come, but Sage took a shower, then dressed with an energy and lightness of heart she hadn’t had for a while. Her breakfast was brought up. She was slowly but surely making her way through the Savoy’s menu. She would have to figure a way to do something nice for Felix. He’d taken to ordering for her, and she was rather enjoying just removing cloches to see what he’d had prepared for her.

  As she flipped through her messages, she spotted one from Felix, reminding her Gabe had asked to see her. She grabbed her phone and sent him a quick text, saying she would be available until nine-thirty, then would be out for several hours. His return message said he was on his way in and would see her in approximately thirty minutes.

  She reviewed the things sent up from the front desk. The messages from Gail were growing progressively darker and more threatening. She dismissed them, congratulating herself on making the break from her former publisher. There was a message from Gail’s boss, asking that she contact him directly, but Sage decided to set that aside since she feared it might be awkward. In addition, she felt as though she owed it to herself to explore all of her options before making a decision.

  Good as his words, Gabe knocked precisely thirty-three minutes later.

  “You’re three minutes late,” she said, laughing as she opened the door.

  He scowled, as did DSI Holmes.

  “And you have been told not to open the door until you know who it is,” Gabe scolded.

  “Yes, but I’m really not very good at doing what I’m told.”

  “You’re going to have to get better,” Holmes added.

  Sage was deciding she really didn’t like the detective from Scotland Yard. She decided she’d never mention him again in one of her manuscripts or better yet, let him get killed off after he didn’t take the threat to Roark’s latest heroine seriously. Wait… that would be a good idea. If his friend got killed, Roark would feel honor-bound to avenge him or at least solve the case, and Sage could write a heroine who would challenge him and that he could fall for. Maybe Corinne was right. She could give Roark a happily ever after, then do an annual novel with him and the love of his life as a kind of modern-day Nick and Nora Charles, the married detectives from the film noir series.

  “Gabe, Felix didn’t tell me you were bringing DSI Grumpy Gus. You know, Holmes, I was just thinking I could use you as a great plot device and kill you off in a novel.”

  Surprisingly, Holmes chuckled. “I’m happy to see you again as well, and at some point in the future, I’m going to rather enjoy seeing you brought to heel by the right man. But that’s neither here nor there. As we suspected, there was nothing particularly useful on either the contents of the envelope or the envelope itself. My friend in the lab did say he found some fiber evidence in the self-stick portion of the envelope flap. It looks to be cashmere. If we found the article of clothing it came from, we’d be able to match it, but only circumstantially, but he did say the manipulation of the image was fairly sophisticated, so we’re looking—”

  “We?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. I may not have enough to take to my superiors, but I find the image and how it was delivered—no one saw it delivered, and nothing was caught on video—disturbing, to say the least.”

  “At the risk of having Gabe tsk-tsk me… I rode the tube home from the Tower yesterday evening. I stumbled and had it not been for one of the security people on the platform, I could have been injured.”

  “Stumbled or shoved?” asked Holmes.

  “Initially, I thought I felt someone push me. I was s
urprised at how crowded it was. But the security person said a local event had just let out and seemed certain I was just jostled.”

  Gabe shook his head. “Sage, I told you to avoid the tube.”

  “As I said, doing as I’m told is not my strong suit.”

  Holmes leveled a look at her. “Perhaps a well-placed swat by a strong hand to your backside would help you to do better.”

  “You do know, Holmes, that is completely inappropriate.”

  “Inappropriate perhaps, but I suspect effective if done often enough.”

  Sage rolled her eyes. “Well, we’ll never know, will we?” she challenged.

  “I think we’ll find out a lot sooner than you think,” Holmes rejoined.

  “Why do I get the distinct feeling I’m missing something?” Gabe looked back and forth between the two of them. “Had you two met before the other day?”

  “Let’s just say, Ms. Matthews and I know each other from her books.”

  Sage stared at him in disbelief… did Holmes know? How could he? She had written DSI Michael Holmes into the books, but like Felix, he had been replaced by another character she had never written. There was no explanation. Sage remembered the original characters from her books, yet no one else did, and everyone accepted the replacement characters had always been there. She tried to question her sanity or even her memory, but she was quite certain of what she knew, regardless of all evidence to the contrary.

  She’d been down in the tube? Someone was making threats, and she went down in the tube? He shook his head—she really did need a keeper. No, that wasn’t right. She didn’t need a keeper who would try to box her in. What she needed was a Daddy—someone who would act as her protector, confidant, mentor, anchor, disciplinarian, lover, and dominant—and she would obey and submit whether she liked it or not.

  He meant to show her all they could and would be to each other. It was only a question of which she needed more—a sound spanking or a thorough fucking. The best part was the two weren’t mutually exclusive, and he meant to have her over his knee and in his bed within short order.