Page 94 of Darling Venom
This time, I paid attention.
The pregnancy glow would wear off once Reagan gave birth. My leniency period would end. I wanted to become an agent and escape the purgatory of poorly written manuscripts stapled to generic, I-sent-this-to-every-agency-in-the-country query letters.
When the meeting ended, I scrambled out of my seat.
“Charlotte?”
I paused, facing Reagan. “Yes?”
“Can you stay a moment? I need to discuss something with you.”
“Sure.”
The rest of the agents filed out of the room.
When the door closed behind them, Reagan leaned back in her executive chair. Her shirt lifted with the movement. The thick band of her maternity jeans peeked out a sliver. “I stopped by the clinic for an ultrasound yesterday.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, great. Dr. Marchetti took a 4D ultrasound image. I got to see the faces, noses, lips, everything.” She paused. “I also talked to Sylvia. She’s Dr. Marchetti’s receptionist. Remember our conversation last weekend?”
My stomach dropped.
I knew where this was going, and I had a feeling I wouldn’t like it.
“Yeah…”
“Well, Sylvia mentioned an opening for a new client.” The words came out slow. Stretched out. Like she was unwrapping a present one tape strip at a time. “I mentioned you might be interested, and she agreed to book the slot for you. Isn’t that lucky?”
Bullshit.
I knew this was bullshit on account of the fact that:
If there truly was an opening, which I doubted because pregnant women wanted Dr. Marchetti more than they wanted relief from back pain and swollen cankles, Sylvia would choose literally anyone over me.
Sylvia knew I worked for Reagan. And…
Sylvia—and her boss—could not stand me.
I leaned against the vegan leather chair. “Oh.”
“Since it’s your first Pap smear, you won’t find anyone better than Dr. Miracle. Not only is he knowledgeable, but he’s also the gentlest doctor I’ve been with.”
She said it like she’d just given me a gift, and she expected me to tear it open and shower her with gratitude. Her hand made circular motions on her belly as she waited for my reaction. The corners of my lips rose, but my body screamed for an escape.
“I was planning on finding someone near my apartment.”
“Dr. Marchetti is the best in the city. Probably the country.” She frowned. This was probably not the thank you she’d expected. “I told Sylvia to bill it to me, since I’m pushing you into this. Aunt Jessa died of cervical cancer at only fifty-six years young. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you and I knew I had the means to prevent it.”
Over her shoulder, I eyed my desk through the glass wall. Specifically, the knee-high stack of paper piled beside it.
Out of the hundreds of manuscripts I’d started, I’d only finished two. The rest were DNF’d by the halfway mark. I needed a promotion so I could dump these novels and move on to queries I actually wanted to read.
Just do it.
Please her.
Say yes.
