Page 88 of Kill Your Darlings

Plus, I wanted to update him on the new and troubling revelations regarding Colby.

But something about the way Rudolph stood there, composed but a little wistful, silently dripping on the plush carpet, got to me.He must be so lonely at conferences, now that Anna was gone.As nice as being revered by your colleagues must be, it would still feel lonely crawling into an empty bed at night.

I could identify with that only too well.

“Sure,” I said.“I’d love to.”

His eyes lightened and he smiled.“Excellent!I always enjoy our little chats.”

The Presidential Suite occupied the quietest corner of the top floor, and featured wraparound views of the bay.Like all the fifth-floor suites, the interior discreetly whispered old money and refined taste.Hardwood floors gleamed beneath Persian rugs, and the living room was anchored by a curved fireplace of sea stone and copper.Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the ocean like a painting in constant motion, and the furniture—deep leather chairs, carved side tables, and a dining nook set for four—looked less like hotel décor and more like the reading room of a private club.

The lights were dimmed to a mellow golden wash.The balcony doors stood cracked, letting in the scent of brine and fog.Rudolph poured us each a finger of something amber—presumably scotch—no water, no ice.

He handed me a short tumbler.“Cheers.”

“Cheers.”We clinked glasses and wandered over to the chairs before the fireplace.

“That was an excellent interview today,” Rudolph remarked.“It’s nice to go out on a high note.”

Presumably he meant himself, but these days I couldn’t be sure.

“You’re a very generous interviewer.”I held up my glass.“And this a very good scotch.”

He smiled.“Macallan 25.”He set his glass on the low glass and iron table, and began to briskly towel his hair.“You’re very well-liked within this industry, Keiran.More importantly, you’re very well-respected.”

“That’s very kind.Thank you.”I sipped my scotch.

“Just stating facts.”

I smiled politely.

“Between us—you have my word it will go no further—how do you really feel about the merger with Wheaton & Woodhouse?”

I sighed, and I think that sigh said it all, because he grimaced.

“It’s unfortunate,” Rudolph agreed.“I blame Daniel.He should have forced Millie to rise up through the ranks, just as he had to do.Instead, he simply handed the company over to her, and the silly girl ran it right into the ground.”

Pretty much.I said nothing.

He finished drying his hair, which looked wilder than ever, and picked up his glass again.Staring into the golden liquid, he said casually, “Have you considered your other options?”

I smiled faintly.“If we’re being honest, I’m not sure I have many.I appreciate the kind thought, but I’m forty and ours is an age-biased industry.I don’t think most companies would agree that my best years are still ahead of me.Plus, there’s a scarcity of equivalent roles.A lot of houses are downsizing or folding editorial departments into publishing teams.I suspect W&W have something like that in mind.It’s highly unlikely I’m going to find a position with the same salary, healthcare, and retirement benefits.I’ll be lucky to hang onto this one.”

“Ah,” Rudolph said thoughtfully.

“And it’s not as though I can bring my author list with me.”I thought of Adrien English.“A few authors would probably follow me.But I wouldn’t have the leverage I have now—assuming I still have that leverage.”

“Yet, you’ve always struck me as an optimistic personality.”

“Usually.Right now, I’m trying to temper wishful thinking with pragmatism.”

He smiled absently.“Did you sign a DNC?”

“No.”

“Very wise.However, knowing Vaughn,wereyou to strike out on your own, it’s very possible he might try to blackball you.”

I hadn’t even consideredthatsickening possibility.