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“Listen, I’m sorry, okay?” she said, without managing to sound the least bit apologetic. “I didn’t mean to talk to you like that,” she added, despite obviously having meant every word she said. “I just… I can’t let this go. This story is something, Natalia. This just… I’m so sure it’s going to be one of those moments in life that when I look back at it, I can point to it and go … yes. You know? I can say this was it. This was the moment I broke through. That I went from A-list to fucking legendary.”

Natalia took a deep breath and let the anger ebb. Tried to forgive Zoe’s tunnel vision and forget the roiling in her stomach. Tried not to feel like what she was about to suggest wasn’t a betrayal. She didn’t owe Samantha anything. She wasn’t her client. Her only job was to protect Zoe’s interests.

“Why don’t you adapt a screenplay from the original texts,” Natalia suggested, bile burning the roof of her mouth. “You don’t need?—”

“You don’t think I tried that already? The second she turned me down, I said fuck it and went to the source. There are more original lines from Sappho’s poetry than there is of this. It’s just tattered untranslated fragments. Reyes’ interpretations and theories make up the lion’s share of what there is. It’s her damn take I have to tell as much as that kills me. Please, Natalia,” she begged. “I need your help.”

Natalia let the silence linger, thumb over the call button on her steering wheel. “I’ll see how walking on water pans out.”

“If there’s anyone who can do it, Natalia, it’s you.”

Natalia rolled her eyes and hung up the phone. Instead of slamming her foot down on the gas, she relaxed against her white leather seat. She had not fought her way to the top of this industry by being faint of heart or timid of conviction.

Zoe’s delivery was irritating and smacked of the spoiled child she’d been as a teenager, but her take was correct. It was Samantha’s story that they needed. If Natalia’s mission in life was to expand the sapphic footprint in entertainment, how much bigger would it be to catapult a historical myth about strong, female-led societies where the queerness was baked-in to the narrative not assumed. Where they didn’t fall to the might of invading armies.

It was important work, Natalia couldn’t deny that. Was it her duty not to give up?

Dr. Reyes’ ideas were dripping with it. With the kind of magic that propelled projects into the stratosphere. She owed it to future generations of women who would find power in the myths and legends of ungovernable badasses. That alone was worth a last ditch effort.

She’d try the good professor again, she thought with an involuntary smirk. Memories of Samantha with her head tipped back flooded her mind. She could think of worse consolation prizes.

Arriving at the office in record time, she drove into the building’s parking garage. She averted her gaze from the Audi SUV parked where it didn’t belong with its fogged-up windows. A tiny chuckle rattled in her throat while she drove by it.

Lola should be smarter than to think they wouldn’t be seen because they’d parked in a visitor spot. But Lola’s clarity had been somewhat compromised by her relationship with Carmen. The new-car scent of their budding love was unmaskable.

Natalia couldn’t imagine falling so hard that it made her lose her damn mind, but she had to admit she was pleased for Lola. A tiny part of her had feared that Lola might never let her guard down enough to connect to anyone. Not that there was anything wrong with remaining unattached, but she knew people well — and Adriana and Lola even better than that.

Both of them wanted a love life. They just hadn’t figured out how to make space for it. Now that they had, Natalia had to admit it was a net good for them. They were still young. Still hopeful.

The nausea returned to spoil her pleasant thoughts. She didn’t want what they had, but the sickly cold sweat crept over her chest, anyway.

Maybe I’m coming down with the flu, she decided reasonably and ordered a disgusting vitamin-filled smoothie from a food delivery app before getting out of the car.

Looking down at her phone while striding to the elevator, Natalia went back to Dr. Reyes’ faculty bio. She only spared a second, looking at her photo before scrolling down to her list of speaking engagements.

In a few weeks, Dr. Reyes would be speaking at a bookstore. The day after Valentine’s Day.

Curiosity drifting, Natalia wondered whether she had plans for the day before. Whether the professor would be taking someone to dinner. Would she still smell like her? Taste like her?

The reflective elevator doors slid open to reveal a woman with cropped gray hair, an alarming amount of turquoise silver jewelry, and layers of colored silks that didn’t have a beginning or end — just flowing in a way that defied gravity. Even if the button for the penthouse hadn’t been illuminated, she would have recognized the strange woman as Sky Bamford’s lackey.

“Good morning,” the woman beamed before hitting the button for Dominion, like Natalia should be impressed that she knew where she was going.

Natalia kept her attention on her phone. Despite usually having cell reception in the elevator, Palmetto Pride Books’ website refused to open.

“Everything has a dual nature, doesn’t it?” Silks said.

Natalia wouldn’t have looked up from her useless phone, but Silks’ rocking on her heels was creating an irritating clinking thanks to the arm full of silver bangles. She glared at her, willing her to stop moving.

“Just look at the Lilith vampire myth,” she continued, unaffected, like she was immune to her ire. “Female energy in perfect balance. Both predators and sentient beings are capable of complex emotions and social structures.” She put up her hands, metal jangling. “Balancing new predatory instincts with their retained aspects of humanity, creating an ongoing tension between their beastly and human sides.” She smiled, pale eyes gleaming. “Life and death, light and dark, human and monster.” A grin broke out on her lips like a felon on the run. “A captivating tension indeed.”

Natalia leveled her with a look before feeling the shape of Dr. Reyes’ book under her arm. She confirmed that the top of the book was peeking over the top of her bag and relaxed her shoulders.

It was odd that Bamford’s Shadow recognized the tome from a sliver of the cover, but the woman herself was odd. One day she was Bamford’s trusted advisor, and the next day she was teaching Lola anger management and then suing her. Anything was possible.

She softened her expression into something neutral. Bamford was as unpredictable as this charlatan. She’d silently endure her and avoid another unhinged attempt to evict her. But only because she didn’t have time to waste on Bamford’s eccentricities.

“Though, in truth, is not everything a dance of opposites?” Silks continued, undeterred. Her bangles jingled as she gestured expansively. “Masculine and feminine, earth and sky, strength and vulnerability. No one is ever just one thing, are they?”