Ink And Temptation

– Arriva

f gothic architecture, glass panels, and wildly landscaped gardens - but nothing could have prepared her for the sheer chaos that radiated from every corner. Half-finished sculpt

t of anxiety in her stomach. She had been warned about Greg Hartman, the novelist whose genius was matched only by his s

or, and before she could kno

led halfway up his arm, a mug in hand that looked suspiciously like it hadn't been wa

d teasing. "I've been expecting a storm. And her

ile. "Mr. Hartman. I'm here to ensure your next boo

he point. I like that. You're exactly what I imagined: imp

he carried himself - reckless charm that made it impossible not to notice him.

an, I'm here for your wo

her teeth grit in equal measure. "Good. Because opinions are dange

pers, and what appeared to be a half-completed sculpture of a horse. The

id, waving vaguely with his mug. "Though

ing the urge to straighten a leaning

nd I prefer chaos. This

l she could focus on was the clutter of papers, manuscripts, and half-drunk coffee cups littering every surface. A notebook lay op

like it was a throne. "Welcome to my kingdom o

his casual disarray and her own meticulous preparation. "I'm ready,"

hat made her feel simultaneously scrutinized and exposed. "Brace yourself. I don't do revisions light

his wild ideas. But she held back, reminding herself that p

ling, and occasionally nonsensical. Debbie made notes in the margins, flagging inconsistencies, character flaws, and pacing issues

brow at one comment. "You think th

me to connect with the characters, to understand their motivatio

very editor I've ever had. Precise, critical, and secret

sed it as irritation. "I'm not here to be liked.

ning back. "Especially the metaphoric

faced at random intervals, teasing her about her rigidity, her insistence on structure, and her perfectly controlled reaction

adn't even taken a sip of water, caught up entirely in the intellectual and emot

ou know, rules are flexible when the muse strikes. Maybe a snack wo

e vulnerability behind his teasing tone. "I can ma

to himself, before shaking his head as if realizi

haotic, unpredictable, and notorious. She couldn't let herself be drawn in. And yet, the magnetic pull of his presence, the way he challenged h

uscles, her elbow brushed against a pile of papers

l, part of it. Some of those pages haven't seen daylight in weeks. And now, thanks to you..." He lea

the same page. The contact was brief, but enough to make her heart skip. She

g for them to acknowledge what neither dared to name. And then G

rrent of promise. "New day, new revisions. But tonight..." He gestured a

She wanted to leave, to maintain her boundaries, but a part of her linge

d her: the company would want a progress report tomorrow. And if they found even a hint of

man would not just be about editing a book. It would be about navigating desir

at the manuscript again, a shadow crossing his face - determi

debates, and deadlines. Ton

g that nothing in her carefully contro

k, and intimate - echoed from the study. It wasn't clear whether it was j