Turning Point||Book 2

3: Xenia.

"Come with me, please."

There was no other option except to pick my jaw off the floor and manage a nod of understanding. Vera Lenci proceeded to a glass door and pushed the steel handle. She stepped into what seemed like her office.

The idea to stay out here and confront Jerry might've been nice, if I wasn't here to get an offer that violence and aggression could steal from me. I humbly turned around, thanked Annabel for her help and went towards the door. I knocked before going in, even though nearly the entire length and breadth of the office was conspicuous from the hallway.

"You can have a seat." Vera Lenci gestured towards the twin chairs in front of her table, while wearing a small smile. "I hope you don't mind, I'm in the middle of something. Give me five minutes. You'd agree that you're a bit early."

"Sure."

Plopping comfortably into the arm chair, I whirled my neck for a quick meticulous glance at the office. With its top-to-roof window on an entire side, vinyl flooring, and profusion of business-girl posters unevenly pasted to the wall behind me, it resembled a high school girl's inspirational study than it did an editor's office.

The Tv to the left was airing The Bold & Beautiful. The American TV series wasn't my top pick, but I had managed to keep up with it for a while, until Ivan suggested running to base since the TIF was after him. Our nomadic family had been the reason I hadn't gone to college and done most things I hoped to have achieved before twenty five.

"Okay!" Vera said moments later. "I think you have me now." She drove her elbows into the table. "Skylar. First off, would you mind sharing your initials with me. I mean, one minute I was seeing X.T.B at the end of the epilogue, and the next, I was sending an email to S.V."

I laughed. No lies that I'd felt attacked, I continued to play it simple. "It's the first letters of my favorite cities in the world — in order of importance."

"Tell me."

"Xenia in Ohio, Tallinn, and Bologna here in Italy."

Most of those things were false. Bologna was nowhere near my list of favorite places since I lost a significant part of myself in that good-for-nothing city.

There was no mistaking the intrigued look on Vera's face when she asked, "You tour?"

"Not exactly. My imagination takes me places. So it's a win-win."

"And that brings me to the reason for the instant contact," she explained with her brown eyes hardening on me. "He ripped the clothing from her, cut through her belt, before shoving her onto the vanity in her bedroom. That's good writing, Skylar. I've had that sentence in my head all morning, nothing seems to shake it off."

My reaction to her thoughtful comment was a slight nod and small smile. Taking a compliment had never felt so difficult.

Anticipation ballooned in my chest as her eyes rolled from side to side, over the screen of her MacBook. She was likely reading the first ten chapters I'd sent her of my manuscript, together with chapters forty to forty-nine and the epilogue.

I kept waiting, watching the tiny screen inside her pupils in hopes of matching her expression with what she was reading. However, after a long wait, she cleared her throat. "What's your inspiration?"

"Reality?"

She froze. "This is factual, isn't it?" Her note was somewhat vague. Like disappointment had merged with surprise.

Such a short answer—yes—didn't fit a big question like that. I needed a page worth of note to express my thoughts, feelings, gratitude—now that I'd been contacted—and the reason I'd penned my whole life down in a sixty-chapter novel.