1. Oli

1

OLI

I'm shaking just a little bit as I step off the tube. The train ride from Reading to Paddington was most of an hour, which I spent reviewing my interview answers over and over in my head. By the time I was out of the train station and on the tube, I'd given up on rehearsing in favour of just trying to even out my breathing.

And now as the crisp fall air hits my face, I'm doing my best not to be visibly nervous. To embody the calm, cool, collected publicist that I know I can be. Years of doing freelance marketing work had given me something vaguely approaching an impressive portfolio, mostly working for local businesses and people wanting to build a following on social media for their brands, and now I'm ready for prime time.

I bounce on the balls of my feet to dispel the nervous energy coursing through my veins as I check my phone, making sure the directions I'd memorised the night prior were accurate. The small indie publisher who'd somehow found the breakaway success of the last year - the steamy, action-packed An Age of Dragons - has a small office on the floor of a corporate tower in central London. I'm sure that they're going to outgrow it sooner rather than later, given that the book has been at the top of every bestseller list for over fifty weeks running, now. And with a movie in production, it's going to blow up even further.

Which is why they need an in-house publicist to start handling all the incoming media requests and start actively shaping the story instead of just responding. As I always tell my clients, marketing and PR are about being proactive, not reactive. I help to get the narrative out that we want to see, as opposed to what reviewers and customers want to believe.

And I know that I can do a bang-up job on An Age of Dragons. I've read it three times, and I have a crystal-clear vision of how I'm going to tie together the grassroots fan base already churning out fan art and other content with the mainstream media attention the book has already gotten. All of it will be able to support and coordinate with the PR effort around the movie's release in a little under a year. I have a PowerPoint presentation on my iPad to back it all up, complete with data and mock-ups for the ads I'll create.

It's not just that I'm excited to level up in my career and finally land somewhere that's hopefully permanent, with benefits and everything. A real job title, a way to be taken more seriously in the cutthroat world of publicity. It's the chance to be here, in London, instead of over an hour away from the posh neighbourhood where my long-term boyfriend Geoffrey lives.

No one thought we'd end up together, least of all me. Geoffrey works in finance and has the demeanour to match - suave, sophisticated, always wearing a perfectly tailored suit and a watch that costs more than I make in a month. We'd had a rocky childhood growing up together, me with an artist and a teacher for parents and a wardrobe full of secondhand clothes, Geoffrey the son of one of the richest families in town. He'd picked on me for years - for being less well-off, for being tiny, for having freckles and glasses and curly blond hair that was always falling into my eyes.

I'm still tiny, but at least now Geoffrey claims my lean frame and short stature are appealing because he can toss me around in the bedroom. And I've gotten better haircuts and trendier glasses - looking good is, after all, fairly important to convincing people that you can make them look good - and shaped up my wardrobe. Now I squeeze into designer jeans and button downs, even if I tend to throw a baggy cardigan on top most of the time, given that I'm always cold.

I've done so much to try to fit in with Geoffrey and his banker friends, all of whom are dating or married to people who could be supermodels and also have doctorates. This is the biggest step - getting a job in London so that I can move here, taking that step of moving in with Geoffrey. We haven't done it yet because he wants me to be able to pay a fair share of his sky-high rent, and because he's almost never home. It makes more sense for me to stay in Reading with my parents whilst I save up, given that I can work from anywhere.

Except, if I get this job with Sky High Publishing, I'm going to be making more money - a lot more money - and I'm going to need to be in London every day. It will be a no-brainer move for us to live together, and maybe I'll even impress his friends with the red-carpet events I'll be attending as the man in charge of making the author of An Age of Dragons, and the whole team behind her, look good.

I take a deep, steadying breath as I weave through the crowds on the street in front of the office tower, making my way into the sparkling marble lobby and presenting my ID to the security guard on duty.

'I'm here for an interview,' I announce, chewing my lip as he scans my ID into the computer system. 'With Megan, of Sky High Publishing.'

'Go on.' He hands me back my ID and waves me through the barrier. I make sure to discard the gum I've been chewing nervously all the way from home into the trash can by the lifts before getting on.

The doors open and reveal a small yet sleek office, full of young bookish-looking people bustling around. The sequel for An Age of Dragons comes out in four weeks, and I can feel the frantic energy coming off the staff, a couple of them standing in the lobby cradling coffees and having an urgent conversation about possible delivery delays to Waterstones. They must all be under incredible pressure, with the astronomical number of copies that the book is expected to sell.

I stand a bit awkwardly, clutching the straps of my backpack, because there's no receptionist to introduce myself to. But luckily a harried looking woman with a pencil tucked into her bun and paper hole punch scraps all over her black turtleneck makes a beeline for me.

'Oliver Cane?' she asks.

'Yes,' I reply, extending my hand for her to shake, hoping it's not covered in sweat. 'Although you can call me Oli.'

'Great to meet you,' she says, her grip firm. 'Megan Smith, managing editor here at Sky High. We're so glad you came in. We can really use the help.'

Stay calm, I tell myself, trying not to start blathering on about how much I need them. 'It's an exciting opportunity,' I say instead, my voice level and professional. 'I've been a huge fan of An Age of Dragons from the beginning, and I'm quite eager for the chance to help take Sky High's profile to the next level.'

'God knows we're in deep,' she says, guiding me to a hall and then into an office. There are books cluttering the desk, what looks like every special edition of An Age of Dragons that anyone in the world has ever produced. My fingers twitch with the urge to examine them - I'm nothing if not a book whore. 'With the movie in pre-production, and the media company's PR team hounding us daily for quotes and assets and interview answers and the like, we're underwater. You would think that we'd have gotten on the bandwagon and hired an in-house publicist long before this, but our owner wanted to be cautious with finances. Publishing runs on a shoestring margin, you know, and we were always half-expecting the book's fame to just…go poof one day and disappear. We have around a year until the film is out, which equates to a year of managing this fucking inferno around us… pardon the French.'

I give her what I hope is a comforting smile as I put my bag down besides the chair she motions to and sit. 'I understand that. For you to have found such success is honestly incredible, but I imagine it also brings with it an incredible amount of pressure.'

Megan sighs and tucks back a strand of the blonde hair currently trying its best to escape from her bun. 'I never thought when I pulled that manuscript out of the slush pile that we'd be here today, but when life gives you lemons, you go into your tenth print run.'

'Well,' I reply, 'I'd be happy to take a load off, especially with coordinating with the production company.'

'That would be a dream,' Megan says, her blue eyes wide. 'With the casting news that's about to come out, we're going to be beating off reporters left and right.'

'Oh?' I quirk an eyebrow. There'd been some contract dispute or another with the lead actor who'd been cast to play Armin Wolfe - the hunky dragon-rider who somehow managed to vanquish armies, save his friends and gorgeous lover, and fight to reclaim the throne all whilst never wearing a shirt - and there's been no news of who is replacing him yet. And obviously the whole movie hinges on casting the exact right man to embody the black-haired, violet-eyed, totally ripped hero. If they get it wrong, the fans will undoubtedly riot, and that will be the end of that.

'You'll see.' Megan winks at me. 'Check the entertainment news tonight. But for now, let's talk about how you can help.'

'Of course,' I say, nerves giving rise to excitement. I know my stuff, and I know I'm the right person for the job. 'As Armin says in chapter fifty-one, the only way to win a battle is to go in with firm determination and an iron-clad plan. So, I've got a PowerPoint.'

Megan's mouth drops open, and I launch into my marketing and publicity plan. I know within five minutes that I've got her hooked, and I pray to all the gods in An Age of Dragons that I keep her that way.

I walk out of the office an hour later with a job offer, a contract on the way, and a start date of next week.

This is going to be my big break, I know it. I smile all the way to Geoffrey's apartment and let myself in, slumping into the huge leather sofa and kicking off my trainers. The sun is setting over the London skyline, framed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows.

It's going to be hours before Geoffrey gets home, which gives me plenty of time to build out my schedule for the next week. I pull out my laptop and open my email to check for the contract, but what catches my eye instead is a breaking news update from one of my favourite media roundups.

Greek God Nikos Ridge to Play Armin Wolfe, Star in An Age of Dragons.

My breath catches in my throat looking at the picture of the actor underneath, a smouldering gaze above razor-sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw dusted with stubble. He's shirtless in the picture, and my mouth waters as I count the ridges of his abs. Fuck me - he's got an eight-pack. I don't even know how that's physically possible. He looks like he just stepped off a pedestal, a Greek statue come to life.

I reel in my lust and calm down the warmth in my groin, ordering it to cooperate, because this is perfect. Just perfect. This is our Armin, So much better than the golden retriever, Captain America-looking generic hunk that they'd originally cast. This man looks like he could rip someone apart with his teeth. I want him to bite me until I scream -

Okay, Oli. Calm down.

I take a deep breath and get to work figuring out how to convince every Age of Dragons fangirl how to support our new leading man. It's not even going to be hard.

I crack my knuckles, pop three pieces of gum in my mouth, and start to type.