“I was incredibly lucky. My very first book hit big, thanks a lot to my publisher, Gail Vincent. You know, the first one wasn’t so difficult, but the second one was a bitch. I was so afraid I would disappoint all of you.”
“Sage, I have one for you,” said Angelica Golden, a fellow author and friend. “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever put in your butt?”
“Only the Queen of Butt Stuff would ask me that!” Sage said, laughing. “I don’t know that I’ve done anything weird… just the normal stuff. Is that too much information?”
The questioning went on for the entire two hours scheduled, most of the questions coming to Sage, who tried her best to include some of the other authors. Most of them were easy and fun to answer until the final one…
The final question took her a bit by surprise. “Sage, have you ever had a stalker, or has your fame ever caused you problems?”
“Not so far unless you count those of you that stalk me on Bookbub, Facebook, Instagram, and the like.” Again, there was laughter. “I’ve been very lucky. I’ve known nothing but kindness and support from my readers, and I thank you all for that.”
With that, the panel broke up. Her friend, Adaline Clark, leaned over and whispered, “I thought Norma Sue was going to have an apoplectic fit.”
“Me, too. I can’t decide whether or not I’m happy she didn’t.”
There was a two-hour break for lunch. Sage spent the time with readers, allowing them to take pictures with her, introducing them to Terrance, and encouraging them to take pictures with him as well. She would have forgotten lunch if one of her readers hadn’t simply brought her some of the hotel’s famous soup and decadent bread. Sage ensured both her lunch and that of the reader went on her tab. When the reader protested, Sage had grinned and said, “Beat you to it.”
Sage excused herself, running up to her room to freshen up and change. Entering her room on a high note, she smiled when she saw a beautiful bouquet waiting for her. There was a card attached, but she didn’t take the time to open it. She stripped down and did a few yoga stretches before donning the outfit Gail had designated for the signing.
He watched as she stripped down to only her lacy bra and matching panties. While the bra was far more to his liking than those she had worn when he’d first seen her, the hip hugger panties still needed some work. She should wear a thong or better yet, nothing at all.
The next several hours were boring beyond measure. As usual, when he had the opportunity, he explored the boundaries of his prison and found no escape.
He heard her return, watching as she entered her room and walked to the table with the flowers in its center. Pulling the card out of the envelope, Sage shrieked and dropped it as if she had picked up a venomous snake. He watched as she backed away, never taking her eyes off the card,
scrambling backward toward the phone on the table by the bed. Picking it up, she asked for the manager.
“Ms. Matthews?”
“I think you should call the police and find out who delivered flowers to my room.”
“Flowers? No one sent flowers to your room, Ms. Matthews.”
Sage could never play poker. Her face was an open book and revealed all her emotions. She was confused, but confusion was quickly supplanted when a breeze ruffled her hair and she looked up. He followed her gaze as best he could but couldn’t see what she saw.
“Now… come now! The door to the terrace…”
Her sentence was cut off by the bang on the door and two of the security team coming through it.
He pounded against the barrier between him, but he couldn’t get to her.
“Ms. Matthews?” one of the guards said as the other opened the door.
“The flowers,” she said, pointing. “How did they get here? Who brought them? The note?”
God, why couldn’t he get to her! Damn it!
The manager of the hotel entered. “Ms. Matthews?”
“The note,” she whispered.
The manager picked it up and read it, pale as he handed it to the security guard, who took it by the corner. “It says, ‘Purveyors of Smut Must Die!’”
“We’re going to call the police, Ms. Mathews,” the manager said.
“No,” Sage said a bit unsteadily.
No? What the fuck did she mean by no? They needed to get the police and make them understand Sage was in danger. That Sage didn’t want to understand or accept she was in danger wasn’t all that surprising. Her publisher had been right—she needed a keeper.
“But this is the second threat…” the head of security said.
“I know, but the signing starts,” she said, glancing at her watch, “in a few minutes. I’m going to be in a crowded room here in the hotel, so I’ll be safe. Honestly, I really can’t let my readers down. Some of them have been planning for a year to be here.”
The manager smiled. “All the staff keeps saying how nice you are, and that you’re kind to your fans.”
“Readers. They aren’t my fans. They’re my readers.”
“I’ll send three of my men down—one on each entrance and one circulating. We’ll keep an eye on you. The police should be here any time. They’ll want to look for forensic evidence here in your room and will probably take a look at where someone took a shot at you last night. I think we can all agree that Ms. Matthews was the target last night.”
“Thank you so much. I really have to go. Can you take care of letting the police in and tell them I’ll be happy to talk to them afterward?”
“Of course we can,” the manager said, and allowed the security detail to take her to the ballroom for the signing.
“You don’t think this is some kind of damn publicity stunt, do you?” the
