Pride and Papercuts (The Austens #5) - Staci Hart Page 0,15

developing for several weeks, and while I’m sure on your scale it’s been a success, please forgive me if I ask that you trust the expertise of this firm and my team.”

At my second interruption, the angry flush on her cheeks rose, the contrast of her eyes sharp and bright as diamonds. “I have been the sole marketer in Wasted Words for a full year, and I held the position of CCO at Connor & Cook in Dallas. I’ve helped elevate the bookstore, establishing a presence beyond word of mouth. I’ve seen what works, and I’ve seen what doesn’t, and this, Mr. Darcy, is low-hanging fruit.”

My jaw clenched so tight, my teeth squeaked. “Duly noted. Anything else?” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a dare.

She glared at me for a second, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Georgie was practically screaming at me to shut up with her eyes, but I ignored her in favor of refusing to blink at Laney.

Laney didn’t answer, sitting back in her seat to mark her abdication. But she held my gaze until I looked to the team and continued the meeting to present our next steps.

The fork had three prongs—the romance novel angle, the comic book angle, and the book bar angle. Over the last few years, these kinds of shops had cropped up all over the country, the demographic primarily women, a large percentage of them visiting in groups, mostly book clubs or girls’ nights. So that was our focus too. The male comic demographic was simple—all they needed was a location and selection of rarities, and that they could drink beer at the same stop was the real low-hanging fruit.

Laney kept quiet for the rest of the meeting, scribbling notes and burning holes in the pages given the intensity with which she stared at them. I wondered absently if she was doodling murderous stick figures in my likeness and determined she must be when Georgie looked over her shoulder and stifled a laugh.

The meeting came to a close, and everyone stood, gathering their things and dispersing. I stepped back, nodding as they passed, though I wasn’t looking at them. I was watching Georgie talk to Laney.

“You were right—she’s got a mouth on her,” Caroline said from my side. “How terribly rude, speaking out of turn, challenging you in front of your team. She’s mannerless. And I have a suspicion she’s not going to be easy to work with.”

The words were a bucket of ice down my back. Caroline said what I’d been thinking in the moment, but from her lips, I heard just how disparaging, how wrong, they were. That foreign feeling of shame rose. Again, I’d insulted Laney, belittled her in front of a room of peers, and undercut her own expertise. I was certain someone had told me of her previous position with Connor & Cook, but it’d been long enough that the only subject we’d discussed—her job at Wasted Words—put the knowledge beneath the thick layer of disdain in having someone of unknown caliber on my team.

Which left me with more to apologize for.

Laney straightened out, seeming to collect herself before turning from Georgie to march toward the door. I assumed she’d ignore me and watched her openly, noting the length of her neck, the strong angle of her jaw and chin. The line of her nose and the bow of her lips. I watched her so openly, in fact, that when her eyes cut to mine, a jolt shot through me at the boldness and the sheer beauty of her, even in her fury.

Especially in her fury.

The black look lasted until she reached the threshold of the conference room and stormed away. And there was only one thing I could do.

Follow her.

I passed my very angry sister on my way to the door. “I know,” was all I said, turning in the direction she’d gone.

I caught a flash of blue round a corner down the hall and went after her, not sure what I’d say but confident I’d come up with something. My pace caught the attention of a few people as I blew in her direction. Why catching her felt urgent, I didn’t know. It wasn’t as if she were leaving or that I wouldn’t see her again. But when I rounded the corner and saw her duck into the women’s restroom, I nearly reached for the handle to follow her. Stupidly, I stood in front of the door, staring at the