I frowned then, brows drawing low. What the fuck, my baby girl was in love with another man? I shouldn’t have felt this way, after all Michael Phoenix is a fictional character, and my creation at that. But still, a sense of possessiveness rushed over my frame, chest going tight, blue eyes boring into those caramel pools.
“Michael Phoenix is fake,” I ground out. “Plus he’s a pussy. He gets his ass handed to him in my next book.”
The girl was contemplative.
“Really?” she asked in a quiet voice. “That doesn’t sound right. He’s a double agent and the main character of your books. It would be weird if Phoenix suddenly became weak or spineless.”
I grunted.
“Well, he gets his ass handed to him,” I reiterated again. “Phoenix deserves it, he’s too fucking alpha,” was my final comment, hoping to halt the conversation.
But Anna wasn’t having it. She rested her chin on her hand again, those big brown eyes limpid and warm.
“Well maybe I could help you,” she offered. “Maybe I could read a first draft of your book, and give comments. I’m a secretary at a law firm, you know, so I’m used to proofing stuff.”
No. Her place was in the sack and the kitchen, nowhere else.
“Naw,” I grunted, shaking my head, spooning more of that delicious soup into my mouth. “No need.”
But Anna wouldn’t give up. She took the empty bowl from me and walked to the sink, but then turned back, eyes resolute.
“I can help Robert,” she stated firmly. “I can help. I know copy, and I’ve read all of your books. Give me a chance, you won’t regret it I swear.”
A huge sigh came gusting from my mouth, eyes rolling, more to stop the conversation than anything. Was this really happening? Was my prisoner offering to become my employee? Shit, this adventure was taking crazy twists and turns.
But then again, what harm would it do? If Anna was shit, then I’d just pull the manuscript, no harm done. Besides, it wasn’t like she had so much to do out here in the woods. So I gave in.
“Fine,” I said as she pulled a savory pot roast from the oven. “Fine, be ready tomorrow.”
I was hoping she’d forget, but after our morning sex session, Anna bounced out of bed, bright eyed and bushy tailed, my cum still dripping from that wet slit.
“I’m ready Robert,” she giggled, big boobies bobbling. “Let’s get cracking, the early bird gets the worm!”
And I groaned, rolling over in the sheets. But shit, the redhead’s enthusiasm was infectious, and soon I found myself downstairs, handing her a couple chapters from my new release.
“Here,” I said, expecting nothing. “Take a look and let me know what you think.”
The redhead was so cute, her hair in a messy knot in her head, a pencil tucked behind one sweet ear. But her look was serious, that brown gaze steady as she took the thick stack of papers from me.
“I’ll do a good job, Robert,” she promised softly, and with that, the female disappeared into the den to do her work, as I took my customary place in my office.
And surprisingly, her edits and suggestions were good, thoughtful and meticulous.
“So what’d ya think?” I asked casually at lunch, biting into a gargantuan sandwich. “Lots of typos? It’s this old typewriter I’m using, it jams a lot.”
“I noticed,” she said slowly, taking a small bite of her own sandwich and chewing slowly. “You could do better with a laptop, Robert.”
I shook my head.
“Naw, no laptop necessary,” I grunted. “I hate that shit, technology has gone too far with the internet and games and all that crap. You get distracted instead of putting in good work.”
She nodded slowly.
“I know what you mean. People play Candy Crush for hours at a time, it’s incredible. But Robert,” she continued taking a deep breath. “I stand by my previous comment. You can definitely make Michael Phoenix vulnerable sometimes, but he can’t become a sniveling fool. It doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t fit with your storyline.”
My mind whirled but I made myself stay calm, taking another big bite.
“Why not?” I asked casually. “What’s wrong?”
Anna took a deep breath and looked at me seriously.
“Michael can’t have a personality change in the middle of a book, it’s too weird. He can go through trying times, the situation can change around him, but essentially, he has to be the same person. Otherwise, you’re basically writing a book where the main character has two personalities. And you don’t mean to do that, do you?”
Of course not. Phoenix wasn’t a schizophrenic, he was a former FBI agent drawn to the shadier side of life. He was ruthless and cunning, sure, but essentially an honorable, upstanding dude.
“I’ll think about it,” I said casually. “Maybe I’ll re-write some scenes.”
And the little girl smiled then, making my heart jump, insides going queasy. Fuck! What was it about Anna that did this to me? Somehow I’d become the prisoner, and not her. Because when she speaks, I listen. When she smiles, I smile, and shit, when she says jump, I’m the one who’s asking “how high?” What the fuck has happened? Why has this happened? I’m supposed to be the master in control, but instead I’m the puppy dog obediently following along on his leash.