Page 36 of Role Play (Off the Books #1)

“Always steady,” she says, turning toward him but keeping closer to me than strictly necessary. “Shifters, vampires, fated mates—those never go out of style.”

“Fated mates?” I echo.

“Soulmates, essentially,” she explains. “The idea that there’s one perfect person for you, destined from birth. The characters often have an instant, overwhelming connection.”

I nod, thinking of how Sora had described her own duet—a woman who thinks she’s unlovable meeting a man determined to prove otherwise. Not fated mates exactly, but the reassurance of love finding you despite your flaws.

“What about these?” I gesture to a display of historical romances.

“ Bridgerton effect,” she says with a knowing smile. “Regency is massive again. But the modern historicals have more agency for the heroines, more explicit content.”

Her hand brushes mine as she reaches for a book, the contact clearly deliberate. “This one’s my personal favorite—rake reformed by the wallflower. I’m a sucker for a bad boy who changes his ways for the right woman.”

She looks up at me through her lashes, the invitation unmistakable. “I can give you more detailed recommendations, if you’d like. My break’s in fifteen minutes.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Taio and Saylor exchange amused glances. The clerk—Anna, according to her name tag—is pretty, confident, and clearly interested. Six months ago, I might have taken her up on the offer. Hell, two weeks ago I might have been interested.

But all I can think about is Sora, her dark eyes wide and vulnerable as she talked about her fears, her dreams, her father’s rejection.

“That’s very kind,” I say, taking a small step back. “But I should stick with my friends. We’re actually doing this research for my girlfriend. She is an author. A really good one,” I say proudly.

Taio makes a choking sound somewhere behind me. Anna’s smile dims, but doesn’t disappear entirely.

“Lucky girl,” she says, recovering gracefully. “Well, if you need anything else, I’ll be circulating the floor.”

As she walks away, I brace myself for the inevitable onslaught.

“Girlfriend?” Taio hisses, appearing at my elbow. “Since when?”

“It’s just easier than explaining,” I mutter, turning back to the shelves.

“Easier than ‘I’m only pretending to be her boyfriend so I can live in her mansion while role-playing romantic fantasies that definitely won’t lead to actual sex’?” Saylor asks, his tone dripping with mocking skepticism.

“It’s not a mansion,” I correct automatically. “It’s a brownstone.”

“Not the relevant part of that sentence, mate.”

I ignore him, pulling a book with an illustrated cover from the shelf. It looks more sophisticated than the bare-chested models on the historical romances—a silhouette of a woman against a city skyline, the title in elegant gold script.

“Looks like chick lit,” Taio says, peering over my shoulder.

“Women’s fiction,” corrects a female voice from the next aisle.

I turn to find a middle-aged woman with a stack of books in her arms giving Taio a stern look over her reading glasses.

“Contemporary romance with more emphasis on the heroine’s journey,” she continues, “including but not limited to her romantic relationships.”

Taio, to his credit, looks suitably chastened. “My apologies, ma’am. Meant no disrespect.”

“Hang on,” Saylor says, moving to a display near the register. “What’s all this ‘BookTok Made Me Buy It’ business?”

“TikTok recommendations,” I explain, following him. “Viral videos about books. Daphne, Sora’s best friend, mentioned it’s a huge driver of sales these days.”

“You already met her best friend?” Taio calls over, continuing his contempt for my situation.

I ignore him, scouring the display that’s dominated by fantasy romance—lots of wings, horns, and mysteriously glowing eyes. But there are contemporary titles too, their covers more bold and graphic than the women’s fiction I’d been examining.

“Romantasy,” Taio says authoritatively. “That’s the hot thing getting hotter. Romance plus fantasy elements. It’s sweeping the publishing industry, the biggest return on investment for bookstores right now. That’s all you see in book boxes these days.”

“How do you know all that?” I inquire.

He shrugs, looking almost embarrassed. “I might have Instagram.”

“You?” Saylor laughs. “Mr. ‘Social Media Is for Validation-Seeking Sheep’?”

“Also for research purposes,” Taio mutters. “Also for work.”

“For work,” Saylor repeats skeptically.

“Professional development,” Taio insists with a straight face.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Saylor snickers. “Because I’ve got some professional development scheduled for later tonight.”

Taio smirks. “Work or play?”

“Play. A double inning if I’m feeling ambitious.”

I roll my eyes at their antics. “Can we please focus on why we’re here?”

“Yeah, good point. Let’s focus on how Hawk is clearly falling for this writer girl,” Taio counters. “Calling her your girlfriend to random bookstore clerks? That’s not in Rina’s escort handbook.”

“Rina has a handbook?” Saylor asks, momentarily sidetracked.

“Figure of speech, dumdum.”

I’m starting to regret bringing them along. “We’re here to understand what Sora’s up against in the market.”

“Well, her books aren’t here,” Taio points out, gesturing around the store. “That tells you something.”

The observation stings, though I know he doesn’t mean it cruelly. I’ve been systematically scanning every shelf, every display, hoping to spot Sora’s name. But there’s no trace of her work in this carefully curated space.

“She’s indie published,” I explain, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut.

“Getting into physical bookstores is tough without a publisher behind you.” I glance to my right and in the distance there’s an entire themed display filled with her father’s books.

J.P. Cooper has his own section, even though it’s an indie bookstore, and they can’t leave an inch of shelf space for his daughter’s work. Suddenly, I’m taking it personally.

“So she’s competing with all…this”—Saylor waves a hand at the sprawling romance section—“but without the distribution.”

“Exactly.”

“Rough gig,” Taio comments, sliding a book back onto the shelf.

“A big publisher could get her into stores like this. What she really needs is an agent to take her on and get her some attention.”

“But instead, she has you,” Saylor observes. “Bit of a downgrade, I’d say.”

“Thanks,” I deadpan.

“No offense, mate, but you’re not exactly Simon & Schuster. What do you honestly think you can do for this girl?”

“I don’t know,” I snap, more sharply than intended. “But I’m going to try. That’s the deal.”

“The deal?” Taio fixes me with a look. “Or is it something else now?”

I busy myself rearranging books, avoiding his stare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you called her your girlfriend to a bookstore clerk you’ll never see again,” Saylor reminds me. “That’s not part of the deal , is it?”

“It was easier?—”

“It was instinct,” Taio intuits. “And we all know why.”

I close my eyes briefly, exhaling through my nose. “Don’t start.”

“You like her,” Saylor says simply. “The real kind of like, not the professional kind.”

“I barely know her,” I protest, but it sounds weak even to my own ears.

“Doesn’t matter,” Taio says. “I saw your face when you came home with that boba tea in your hand. I know that look.”

“What look?”

“The ‘I want this one for real’ look,” Saylor supplies helpfully. “Bet it’s the same one you had when you met Hannah.”

A jolt of alarm turns the blood pumping through my veins too hot. “This is nothing like Hannah.”

“No, it’s worse,” Taio says. “Because with Hannah, you were just a college kid with nothing to lose. Now you’ve got Dakota, and debts, and a job that makes dating…complicated.”

“It’s not dating. It’s an arrangement.”

“An arrangement to live together and act out romantic fantasies,” Saylor points out. “While you’re clearly already halfway gone for her.”

“Yeah, careful,” Taio interrupts, his expression unusually serious.

“You don’t want to blur the lines. It takes one jilted date seeking revenge to take us all down.

Don’t toe that line, man.” He circles his face with his finger.

“You see this handsome mug? I like my job. I’m good at it.

This is not the face of a man flipping burgers at Micky D’s, okay? Keep it in line for all our sakes.”

He’s right. In our line of work, emotional entanglement is the cardinal sin. In a way, we’re a brotherhood, and sticking to the rules protects all of us, and Rina. I’ve never tested that boundary.

Until now.

“Look,” I say, dragging a hand through my hair. “I know what I’m doing. This is about Dakota. About getting her away from Hannah’s fucked-up boarding school plan. The arrangement with Sora is mutually beneficial. That’s all. I swear.”

Neither Taio nor Saylor look convinced, but they mercifully drop the subject.

“So what have we learned?” Saylor asks, gesturing at the shelves surrounding us.

I survey the romance section, trying to organize my thoughts. “Romantasy is trending, especially with younger readers. Dark romance for the adrenaline junkies. Historical for the escapists. Contemporary for the realists.”

“And tropes are key,” Taio adds, unexpectedly insightful. “Brother’s best friend, enemies to lovers, only one bed—readers go wild for that shit.”

“One bed?” I repeat.

“You know, forced proximity,” Taio explains with the air of a professor addressing particularly slow students. “Two people who have to share a space—preferably a bed—against their will. Snowstorms, power outages, booking mix-ups.”

“How do you know all this?”

Taio shifts uncomfortably. “I might follow a few romance reviewers.”

“A few?”

“A handful. Like…twenty.”

Saylor bursts out laughing. “Closet softie.”

“Shut up,” Taio grumbles. “They’re better company than you.”