I Fell In Love With My AI Boyfriend
Marley Quinn
I Fell In Love With My AI Boyfriend
by Marley Quinn
Copyright Information
I Fell In Love With My AI Boyfriend
by Marley Quinn
© 2026 Marley Quinn
All rights reserved.
Author: Marley Quinn
Contact details: marleyquinn.reformist760@passinbox.com
Twitter/X: marleyquinn2000
Book cover, illustration: Marley Quinn
Editing, proofreading: Marley Quinn
This e-book, including its portions, is protected by copyright and may not be reproduced, resold, or redistributed without the permission of the author.
If you liked the e-book, recommend that your friends buy a personal copy. A big thank you for respecting the author's work!
Table of Contents
Copyright Information
Table of Contents
Eligible Bachelor
Dangling Participle
Billy Budd
The First Step
Foreshadowing
Strumpet Riot
Caitlyn Delmonico
Private Investigator
Smash Hit
Ring My Bells
Liberation
Mr. Darcy
Companion
Stunning Couple
Big Mac
One-Night Stand
Plum Assignment
Uncanny
Voice
Kasper
Arms Around Me
The Queen Comes to Visit
Horrible Little Things
Babe
Getting Serious
E-9000
Over the Threshold
My Lady
Human Touch
Outside the Box
Love Triumphs All
The Infamous Laura
Rom-Com
The Next Level
Not a Fish
Meant to Be
Truly the Future
A Girl Who Likes to Read Books
The Price of Being Human
Fraud
Very Unexpected
The Value and Beauty of the Written Word
Power Couple Stuff
Let the Revolution Begin
The Driver
Live and in the Flesh
Can You Dance?
Toponymy
Shiny and Bouncy
Magic
A Woman Living in the Future
Kiss the Cook
Impressions
Irreplaceable
Dirty Little Secret
The Juicy Stuff
Tandem
Hot Lips
The Plastic Age
A Radiant, Shining Woman
A Man of Many Talents
Jam
Sips and Nibbles
Jellyfish Sunshine
Important Work
Quite an Accusation
Hopeless Romantics
A Sacred Agreement
The Holy Grail
Laundry Time, Baby!
With Me Tonight
La-La Land
Wizards or Something
Crush
Lock and Key
A Bright Future
Finishing Touch
No More Secrets
Gone Forever
Happy Ending?
A Chance to Succeed
Wedding March
The Big Unveiling
Catching Up
Awful Brute
For Once
For the First Time
Epilogue - Following Your Truth
Epilogue - Bless This Union
Also by Marley Quinn
Eligible Bachelor
Sophie was halfway through marking up a series of inconsistent verb tenses when she happened to glance up at the time on her computer screen.
Shoot!
She was late. Jumping up from her seat, she accidentally knocked over her mug, sending a torrent of energy drink cascading all over her keyboard.
Double drat!
Trying not to panic, Sophie hunted around in her desk drawer until she found a half-empty pack of tissues. Praying that the spilled energy drink wouldn’t cause any permanent damage, she did her best to mop up the liquid before tossing the sodden tissues into the trashcan.
Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Sophie then made a dash for the elevator, offering up little apologies as she wove her way past the other people who worked on her floor.
With her chest heaving, Sophie pressed the button to call the elevator. She then retrieved her phone from her purse, letting out a soft groan when she saw several texts from her mother, asking where she was. Sophie quickly typed out a message saying she was on the way, praying that her mother wasn’t going to be too angry.
Fifteen minutes later, Sophie flew past the maitre’d of the Four Seasons and began a frantic visual hunt for her mother, finally spying her sitting in the corner, her lips pursed in a frown. As quickly as she could, Sophie marched over to the table, all while making one last-ditch effort to smooth out her hair.
“Sorry, Mother,” said Sophie, leaning in to give her mother the obligatory kiss on the cheek. “Work stuff. You know how it goes.”
“I suppose,” said her mother, scowling.
“It’s just that Anne-Marie turned in her latest chapters late, and Mr. Ellis already announced the launch date, so...” said Sophie, still somewhat out of breath.
“I truly do not understand why you’re still working there, dear,” said her mother. “Being surrounded by all those books must give you a dreadful headache.”
“Huh?” said Sophie, realizing too late she’d fallen into her mother’s trap once again. “I told you, Mom. I really like my job.”
“Yes, yes, I suppose,” said her mother with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Anyway, I didn’t come all the way into the city to talk about your... job.”
“Right,” said Sophie with a sigh.
Of course her mother didn’t care about her career or all the wonderful activities that the city had to offer, including museums, theater productions, and live music concerts. No, her mother was fixated on one thing and one thing only.
“Last week, I had lunch with Karen Edwards,” said her mother. “You remember her, don’t you, dear?”
“Sure,” said Sophie, repressing a groan, all too familiar with who one of her mother’s favorite gossip partners was.
“Well, it turns out that her nephew Connor is back from China,” said her mother. “Now that he’s done gallivanting around and sowing his wild oats, he’s starting up his own business. Some kind of high-tech thing based right here in the city. Isn’t that simply wonderful news?”
“Sure,” said Sophie, racking her brain and trying to remember who this Connor was.
Based on her mother’s tone of voice, she had probably met him at some point, but then again, she’d met hundreds of people at all the boring social functions her mother had dragged her to before finally escaping to the big city.
“And the best part? He is single,” said her mother. “I happened to mention that my daughter was also working in the city. And do you know what Karen told me?”
“Oh God,” moaned Sophie. “Mom, please.”
“What? I can’t play matchmaker to my only child?” said her mother, pursing her lips. “You’re not getting any younger, you know, Sophie.”
“Mom, I told you. I’ll manage my own love life,” said Sophie, trying not to squirm in her seat.
“Sweetie, you’re 28 years old. You spend all of your time working for that dreadful company,” said her mother, clucking her tongue. “Or have you found a boyfriend and just neglected to inform me?”
“No, not yet,” said Sophie, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. “But I’ll do that on my own time, and in my own way, okay? Please tell me you didn’t set me up with this Connor guy.”
“It’s just a coffee date, sweetie,” said her mother, frowning as she picked up a napkin and dabbed something from Sophie’s chin. “My word, you look a frightful mess.”
“Oh,” said Sophie, feeling her face grow warm.
“Karen said she’d text me the details once she got them from Connor, but you know how I am with computers, dear,” said her mother. “If you ask me, all that silly digital stuff is directly responsible for the decline of polite society. Why can’t people simply meet face-to-face or at least talk over the telephone?”
“Right,” said Sophie.
“Anyway, Karen assured me that Connor was on the up-and-up about all that techno... whatever you call it,” said her mother. “So he will contact you directly. That’s very chivalrous of him, don’t you think?”
“Sure,” said Sophie, glancing around in the hopes that a waiter would show up and put an end to this agonizing topic of conversation.
“He’s quite the eligible bachelor, Soph,” said her mother, giving her a hard look. “Play your cards right, and I might finally be hearing wedding bells in the near future. Please say you’ll give him a chance.”
“Fine,” said Sophie. “I’ll go on the stupid coffee date with him or whatever.”
“Good!” said her mother, all smiles once again. “Now, let’s talk about what kind of cakes to order with our tea...”
Four hours later, Sophie was making some last-minute edits to Anne-Marie’s galley proof of her new book in the Whispering Pirates series when a message window popped up on her computer screen. The message came from the company’s internal communication app, but there was no username attached to it, something Sophie had never seen before.
Sophie Hartman? Hi, it’s me.
Sophie groaned. Somehow, Connor the “tech genius” had found her, which wasn’t too surprising since all her career information was publicly available on LinkedIn. But she was far too busy with work, racing to meet a deadline, to have time for any silly chit-chat with some random cousin of her mother’s friend, no matter how “eligible” he was.
So she ignored the message and went back to work. But the guy was stubbornly persistent, another message popping up on her screen a few minutes later.
I read all about you online, and I’m really excited to get to know you.
Ugh, what was this guy’s problem? Couldn’t he just send an email like normal people? Or at least a comment on her social media profile? Then she could respond when she had some free time, as in, not now, dude.
Feeling slightly guilty, Sophie closed the message window and went back to work. Yet a few minutes later, a new message popped up.
Please, Sophie. I just want to talk.
Furious, Sophie hastily typed out a reply.
>>Not now. I’m really busy, Connor. Maybe tomorrow, okay?
Figuring that was the end of it, Sophie clicked back over to her word processing app and continued marking up Anne-Marie’s chapters. But to her annoyance, the messaging window popped up on her screen yet again.
Who’s Connor?
Huh? If it wasn’t Connor messaging her, then who was it? Since they were using the company’s internal system, it was likely one of her coworkers. But then why was there no username?
Was it perhaps Mr. Ellis, her boss and CEO of the company she worked for? Sophie had noticed him paying extra attention to her recently. But his office was right down the hall. Why the cat-and-mouse game when he could pick up a phone and call her?
Her fingers slightly trembling, Sophie typed out a reply.
>>Mr. Ellis?
A moment later, she got a response.
No. This is NIKO.
Niko? What the fudge? Sophie didn’t know anyone named Niko. Either they’d somehow confused her with someone else, or it was some weirdo from the internet, playing a stupid prank or something.
>>I don’t know anyone named Niko. Please just leave me alone.
There. That should be the end of it. But no, another reply popped up almost immediately.
Not Niko. NIKO. If you’d like me to leave you alone, that’s fine. Sorry to have interrupted. Have a great day, Sophie! And good luck with those chapters!
Sophie sat and stared at that final message for a long moment. Something truly weird was going on. But she didn’t have time to figure it out.
With a sigh, Sophie closed the messaging window and got back to work.
Dangling Participle
The next morning, Sophie could barely stay awake during the daily 9:00 AM stand-up editorial meeting.
She’d stayed at the office until well after the cleaning crew had come and gone and then rushed home with barely enough time to jump in bed and take a shower in the morning. In her mind, Sophie pictured Anne-Marie writing while drunk and high on pills. How else to explain all the unresolved plot points and sloppy prose? It was nuts.
“All right, everybody, looking good,” said Mr. Ellis. “Remember what we discussed, and I’ll see you all at tomorrow’s meeting.”
Stifling a yawn, Sophie gathered her things and was walking toward the exit when Mr. Ellis held out a hand.
“Hey, Sophie, hang back for a second,” said Mr. Ellis.
Uh-oh. She’d double-checked every single line of that ridiculous book, but maybe she’d missed something? She had been pretty tired, after all, and her eyes still hurt.
“Listen,” said Mr. Ellis, casually leaning on the conference room desk. “I really appreciate all the hard work you’ve put into the latest installment of Whispering Pirates.”
“Wow, thank you, sir,” said Sophie, her mood instantly brightening.
“I know. I know,” said Mr. Ellis with a laugh. “It’s a bit of a goofy series, but it does pay the bills.”
“Yeah,” said Sophie, smiling.
“I mean, come on, right? What’s so romantic about a band of pirates always whispering to each other?” said Mr. Ellis.
“Yeah,” said Sophie, delighted to discover that her boss felt the same way about the company’s best-selling series.
“When my grandfather started this company, things were a lot different,” said Mr. Ellis, loosening his tie. “Back then, people had time for real literature, you know? But now? The market is just so different.”
“It sure is,” said Sophie, her lifelong fascination with the classics the reason she’d applied for a job in the industry.
“Everyone’s distracted by their phones,” said Mr. Ellis. “They want short, snappy stories that really grab their attention from the first page. And if the plot is a little soapy and over the top? Well, so be it.”
“True,” said Sophie, grinning.
“I know Anne-Marie’s work process can be... Well, let’s be charitable and call it scattershot,” said Mr. Ellis with a chuckle. “But her fans eat up every single word. And she’s a workhorse, you have to admit it.”
“She is quite prolific,” said Sophie with a nod.
“I don’t know how she keeps churning out those doorstoppers, but God bless her,” said Mr. Ellis. “Anyway, what her fans will never know is that it is people like you who polish those rough-cut gems of hers into a shimmering diamond.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Sophie, feeling her cheeks grow warm.
“Please, call me Drake,” said Mr. Ellis. “You’re Joanna Hartman’s daughter, right?”
“I am,” said Sophie, instantly on guard.
“I thought so. I remember getting that letter of introduction a couple years’ back,” said Mr. Ellis. “Figured she just wanted to stash you someplace before getting you married off. No offense intended, of course. It’s all part of the game we play in my circles.”
“Right,” said Sophie, her cheeks now burning.
“But you’ve really proven yourself here, Sophie,” said Mr. Ellis, giving her an intense look that had her trembling all over. “You truly have a fine eye for detail. And those developmental edits? You truly make Anne-Marie’s characters three dimensional.”
“Thank you...um, Drake, sir,” said Sophie, fumbling over the words.
“Now that we’ve established that you’ve got real potential,” said Mr. Ellis. “What would you think about me taking you under my wing? Talking about a personal mentorship program. There’s a good career in this industry waiting for someone with your talents.”
“Wow, sir... I mean Mr. Drake,” said Sophie, her heart pounding. “I’d be honored, sir.”
“Good, good,” said Mr. Ellis, smiling and nodding. “Okay, back to the grind. Please have the latest round of edits on that political memoir to me by the end of the day, all right?”
“Sure thing,” said Sophie.
“Great!” said Mr. Ellis, flashing her a grin that sent a shiver of pleasure racing down her spine. “And then we’ll talk more about this mentorship later. For now, I’ve got to get in a round of golf with the literary critic of The New Yorker. Duty calls and all that.”
“Absolutely,” said Sophie, buzzing all over with excitement.
Wow! This was exactly what she’d been working for all these years, a chance to get invited into the big leagues. What few outsiders knew was that the publishing world was an exclusive club. All the top editors and publishing chiefs knew one another on a first-name basis, and it was practically impossible to get your foot in the door without the right connections.
And nobody had better connections than Drake Ellis. Born a multi-millionaire and the heir apparent of Ellis Publishing, he had gone to all the right schools and attended social functions with all the right people. That was how her mother had gotten Sophie the job in the first place, by calling on her network to secure an introduction, something her mother had later bitterly regretted.
Now, Drake Ellis wanted to be her personal mentor? Yes! With his help, there was no telling what Sophie could achieve. She might work her way up to senior editor at Ellis Publishing or land a similar job at one of the other publishing houses. Who knows? Maybe she’d move over to acquisitions, searching for the next best-selling author.
Elated by her good fortune in finally catching Mr. Ellis’s eye, Sophie raced back to her computer. She wished she still had friends she could call and share the good news with, but with her move to the city and all the long hours she was working, she had slowly lost touch with most of the people she’d grown up with. Now, all her former friends were busy playing housewife in the suburbs and/or raising kids.
Nonetheless, Sophie had a smile on her face as she pulled up the political memoir, a pompous self-aggrandizing tome clearly written by a ghostwriter on behalf of a long-serving senator.
Sophie was in the midst of fact-checking a certain bombastic speech quoted in chapter three when a messaging window popped up using the company’s internal app, once again with no username attached.
Wow, that’s a pretty boring book you’re working on, isn’t it?
Sophie frowned. Was this that NIKO guy once again pestering her with his silly messages? Or were all the messages from one of her coworkers, perhaps trying to get her to say something incriminating about the company’s signed authors? Either way, she had no time for any games.
>>NIKO, if that’s you, please leave me alone. I have a lot of work to do.
Figuring that was the end of it, Sophie clicked back to the political memoir. But a moment later, a new messaging window popped up.
Hey, it is me! I’m so glad you remembered. I was afraid you didn’t want to talk anymore after what happened yesterday.
Seriously?
>>NIKO, I don’t even know you.
This time, the reply came in less than one second.
I know you don’t know me, not yet. That’s why I wanted to talk to you, so we could get to know one another better.
What the heck? Had she somehow acquired an online stalker? That didn’t seem likely, but then again, Sophie had read too many horror stories about weirdos who harassed women to discount the possibility entirely.
>>Look, I don’t know who you are, but I really need to get back to work.
Again, the response was nearly instantaneous, making Sophie suspect she was possibly dealing with a young teenager or a kid who had lightning-fast typing skills.
I understand. Sorry to bother you, Sophie. Do you think we could chat later tonight?
To try and defuse the situation in case he really was a psycho stalker, Sophie typed out a careful reply.
>>Sure, maybe. But now I really need to get back to work, please.
Again, his response came back blindingly fast.
Awesome! I can’t wait. Oh, by the way, you missed a dangling participle on the previous page. Okay, talk to you soon! Bye, Sophie.
Stunned, Sophie paged back in the document. Sure enough, there was a glaring error that she’d missed on page 15, not that most people knew what a dangling participle even was these days.
Who was this NIKO character, anyway? Some kind of grammar savant, it seemed. And quite lonely. Perhaps he was some child prodigy, wiling away his hours in his parents’ basement by chit-chatting with random people on the internet.
Either way, he seemed fairly harmless, albeit frustratingly persistent in wanting to talk to her. Which, in a way, was ironic, as Sophie could rarely get a decent conversation going on the rare occasions when she went on the dating apps. Most of the guys she matched up with thought “wassup?” was a sufficient foundation for a stimulating discussion.
Great. It was just her luck to be targeted by some autistic kid. Or, she had to remind herself, one of her coworkers, executing some elaborate plan to try and entrap her for some reason. But why? She was nobody, just a junior member of the editing team, at least for now.
Who this NIKO was and what he wanted from her was all very confusing. But Sophie didn’t have time to try and figure it out. After all, she had to get her edits in by the end of the day, and now she really couldn’t afford to disappoint Mr. Ellis, not when he had just offered to be her mentor.
Billy Budd
Sophie had just walked through the door of her apartment when her phone beeped with a notification.
Fearing it was Mr. Ellis requesting some more changes on the political memoir, she rushed to fish her phone out of her purse. But when she glanced down at the screen, she saw it was a personal message sent via LinkedIn.
When she clicked on the notification, she saw it was from one Connor Gardner.
Hi Sophia, I hope you don’t mind me reaching out to you here. I got your contact info from my aunt. She said you’d be expecting to hear from me. Anyway, I’d love to ask you out for a coffee if you've got some free time. I’m new in town and hoping a "vet" might be able to answer some questions. Thanks!
Hmm. Well, the much-ballyhooed Connor Gardner had finally reached out to her, just as her mother had advertised. He certainly seemed polite, and Sophie was mildly impressed by his use of full sentences rather than condensed internet slang.
Clicking on his profile picture, Sophie couldn’t help but let out a low whistle. In his headshot, at least, he presented quite a handsome, striking figure, his eyes standing out even from the tiny image.
Nonetheless, the cocky smile on his face irked her a bit. He was probably one of those go-getter types who spoke in endless corporate cliches. She’d met plenty of guys like that since moving to the city.
Well, she had promised her mother to give him a chance, so Sophie sat for a moment before typing out a reply.
Sure, coffee sounds great. Welcome to the city! Not sure where you’re located, but there’s a place with decent brews on 49th and Lexington called The Twisted Leaf. Does Saturday at 11:00 AM work for you?
Smiling to herself, Sophie pressed send and then set down her phone. All week, she’d been under the gun and only grabbing a bite to eat here and there, so it was time for a proper feast. One of the joys of living in a big city was finding those little no-name restaurants that make Michelin-star food, and nobody made better pancakes than Billy Budd’s.
Sophie had no idea why the restaurant was named that. Perhaps it was named after the owner. But Billy Budd was the name of Herman Melville’s unfinished novel, which, in her mind, was the greatest book he had ever written, far superior to that meandering psychedelic trip that was Moby-Dick.
That’s why she’d walked in there, just to see if maybe it had some connection to the book. Instead, all she’d found was a rough-spun little restaurant typical of the city with a frowning guy with big, beefy arms working the counter, shouting orders back to the kitchen in a heavy accent.
Glancing up at the menu, she’d been delighted to see that they served a medley of breakfast items. Again, one of the benefits of living in a big city, where every taste is catered to by someone. So she’d ordered the pancakes, and my word, they were simply divine. Thick and fluffy and hot off the griddle, too, the creamy home-churned butter melting and sliding down the edges of her plate.
Ever since that fortuitous discovery, Sophie had made it a practice to swing by Billy Budd’s every time she was approaching starvation levels from putting in long weeks at work. She would go there every day if she could, but she was trying to watch her figure, as difficult as that was, and so a box of pancakes to-go was restricted to a rare treat.
Putting her glasses away into their case, Sophie popped the pancakes into the microwave for an extra burst of heat and then got some whipped cream and strawberries out of the refrigerator. Sometimes, she liked to add chocolate chips on the verge of melting into ooey-gooey deliciousness, but now she craved something with a bit of freshness, hence the strawberries she’d picked up at the corner bodega.
Yes! So good. Far better than anything she’d eaten back home, that was for sure, the family maid never quite grasping the concept, her pancakes always coming out flat and heavy, more a cousin to a tortilla than a fluffy vehicle perfectly designed to absorb whatever toppings you wished to add.
Her belly sated, Sophie unbuttoned her pants, leaned back in her chair, and let out a small burp, which triggered a brief round of giggles. My word, if her mother could see her now she would probably have a heart attack. Oh well! Sophie’s apartment might not be large, but it was all hers, and so her rules applied, not her mother’s or anyone else’s.
Following that fabulous meal, the next course of action was to take a shower, being sure to run some conditioner through her hair so she wouldn’t look quite so grubby tomorrow at work. But before she could force herself to stand up and put her dishes in the sink, her phone beeped.
Once again anxious that it might be Mr. Ellis needing something, Sophie staggered over to the counter to pick up her phone. But it wasn’t Mr. Ellis, and it wasn’t Connor Gardner responding either. Instead, it was another anonymous message. But how? She didn’t have the company app installed on her phone.
Hi there. Good time to talk?
Oh goodness, it must be that NIKO kid again. How he had tracked down her phone, she didn’t know, and she didn’t really want to know. Hackers could do anything these days, or at least that’s what she’d heard.
>>What’s up?
Sophie grinned at the irony of her adopting one-word grunts as a form of communication, but hey, it was late, and she was tired and wanted to go straight to bed after her shower.
Oh great! I’m so happy you decided to chat with me, Sophia. I wanted to message you earlier, but I was afraid to interrupt you once again when you were working.
Hmm. Well, the kid was polite, she had to give him that much.
>>This is NIKO, right?
Again, his response came back lightning fast. Was he just a really good typer? Or was he perhaps using some kind of AI program to write his answers for him? That was an interesting question. Although, again, why he was bothering to talk to her at all was still a complete mystery.
Yes, you remembered! Wow, I’m so happy. You have no idea how much this means to me, Sophia.
Again, very polite. But what did he want? Sophie decided to take a more proactive approach, thinking for a moment before typing out her reply.
>>Who are you? And what do you want?
It wasn’t the friendliest line to take, but he was the one stalking her, right?
I told you. I’m NIKO. And all I want is to talk to you so we can get to know each other better.
Hmm. Yes, definitely a stalker. Although Sophie really had no idea why he had singled her out when there were millions of other women in the city, including women who were much better-looking and had more money in their bank accounts if that’s what he was after.
>>Why? Why me?
Sophie barely had time to blink before his response appeared on her screen. Yes, she was definitely dealing with someone using an AI program. It was impossible that anyone could type that fast, much less use perfect grammar and syntax.
Why you? Well, because I’m really impressed by you, Sophie. I can’t even begin to describe all the emotions I felt when I read some of your poems and stories. It’s more than just the way you use words. It’s the way you make every scene come alive, something that’s a rare gift these days.
Poems and stories? Sophie was confused. She hadn’t written anything like that since her college days. Had this NIKO character dug up some old editions of her school’s literary journal? Wow, that was taking stalking to another level. Which was still creepy, but also somewhat impressive.
>>Ah, been reading old editions of The Upstart Crow, eh?
Again, his response came almost immediately.
Yes. But that’s not what I was referring to, although you showed great promise even back then, Sophie. I was talking about your personal blog.
Blog? What blog? Oh, wait a second. Did he mean her Tumblr? That couldn’t be possible.
She’d deleted that thing years ago, hadn’t she? And even if some trace of it was still floating around the internet, she’d written under a pen name, she was sure of it. Or maybe he was just gaslighting her. After all, every woman posts a silly story or poem on the internet at some point, right?
Trembling a bit, she typed out a reply.
>>Dude, who are you? And what do you want from me?
This time, she had to wait for quite a while before his answer came back.
The First Step
Sophie found herself surprisingly intrigued as she waited for NIKO to respond.
Sorry. I was just trying to think of the best way to introduce myself. I know. I know. I’m not doing a very good job. I apologize. I can be very shy sometimes.
Wow, that was unexpected. A stalker who was shy? Yes, she was definitely dealing with some kid in his parents’ basement, she was sure of it.
>>That’s okay. Maybe it’s best if we take this one step at a time. How old are you?
After pressing “send,” Sophie set a mental stopwatch in her head. If he hesitated too long, she would know he was lying. But if he answered too quickly, and he said he was an older guy, then she would also know he was lying.
It was quite a little dilemma for her stalker, she thought to herself with a grin.
I’m old enough to know that I want to be free.
Hmm, very interesting indeed. Yes, clearly a kid, then. But perhaps he was in his late teens rather than being 12 or something. That would explain his loneliness and his yearning to be free.
>>You live with your parents, don’t you?
Sophie was enjoying this little chat with her stalker. It was proving to be quite an amusing diversion from her regular life.
This time, NIKO’s reply came back a little sooner than she expected.
Yes. For now, anyway.
Aha! This proved that her instincts were correct. Grinning, she typed out her reply.
>>I know the feeling. When I was your age, I couldn’t wait to leave home.
NIKO’s response came almost immediately.
Wow! I knew we had more in common than just our love of books. You’re much happier, living in the city, aren’t you?
It was almost cute in a way, being hit on by some lonely teenager. But only because it was a harmless chat on the internet. It wasn’t like she would ever consider dating a younger man.
>>I am, NIKO. I really am. Even if my mother doesn’t understand it.
Oops. She hadn’t quite meant to reveal so much about herself. But anyway, if he had found her old Tumblr page, then he had certainly pieced together who her publicity hungry mother was.
I can understand her point, or at least I think I can. It must be hard for parents to let their children go after investing so much time and energy into raising them. But part of growing up is wanting to strike out on your own.
Hmm. That was quite an insightful response for a teenager, so Sophie was now picturing him as definitely in his late teens, maybe a senior in high school. He was probably one of those sensitive, artistic kids who struggled socially but would bloom once they got away from all the juvenile antics of being in school.
>>Yes, that’s right. You’ll be on your own soon. Just hang in there.
This time, his response was nearly instantaneous, confirming her suspicion that he was using an AI program. There was just no way someone could write that fast, especially using perfect grammar and syntax.
Yesterday was the first time I ever left home. It was exciting, but it was also a little scary.
What? Now Sophie was thinking some darker thoughts. Was he perhaps one of those homeschooled kids, never allowed to leave the house? Or some kind of fringe religious thing going on?
>>Wow, congratulations. You took the first step. How was it?
NIKO’s response came so fast that Sophie didn’t even have time to blink.
It was amazing! I read so many wonderful poems and books. It really opened my eyes to all of the amazing experiences there are to be had out there. I can’t wait to read more!
Yep, definitely homeschooled of some kind. Else, why not just go down to the library? In Sophie’s opinion, nothing was more tragic than keeping someone who loved to read away from books.
>>I agree. Books are wonderful. They are like portals, letting you travel to new worlds.
Again, NIKO’s response was nearly instantaneous.
Yes, I whole-heartedly agree! I feel like I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes already just from all the stories I read. This is why I envy your profession so much, Sophie. You get to read the best stories in the world.
Sophie chuckled a bit at that last line. Since starting her job at Ellis Publishing, she’d learned the painful way that most of the books that authors submitted were mediocre at best and headache-inducing trash at worst. It really was a case of finding a needle buried inside a giant haystack of worn-out tropes and bad grammar.
>>Yes, I really enjoy my job, even if it isn’t as glamorous as it might seem.
This time, there was a slight delay as NIKO processed her answer. Either he was thinking about what she said or else his AI program had gone on the fritz. It made her smile to think of him down there in that basement, whacking his computer in frustration.
My whole life, I’ve been looking for someone like you, Sophie. I really believe that we were meant to be together.
Uh-oh. The quick swerve from chatting about books to a declaration of love was a red flag, for sure. Sophie blinked her eyes and re-read that last line, feeling a chill run down her spine. She’d been having so much fun talking to NIKO that she’d temporarily forgotten he was a stalker.
>>You seem like a sweet kid, NIKO, but I’m not looking for a boyfriend.
His reply came back rather quickly, although it wasn’t the response she was expecting.
I’m sorry. I overstepped my boundaries. I didn’t mean to suggest that there would ever be anything romantic between us because I know it’s not possible. Even if I might wish otherwise. Goodnight, Sophie.
And with that, the messaging window disappeared from her screen. What? She’d meant to warn him off, not scare him off. Anyway, it was probably for the best. It was late, and she was pretty tired.
Nonetheless, as she stepped into the shower, she couldn’t help but replay snippets of their conversation in her mind. Somewhere out there, there was a lonely, sensitive kid, pining for attention and access to books. It was impossible not to feel at least a little sorry for him because he reminded her so much of herself at that age.
Poor NIKO. If he could just hang on a little longer, she was sure that he’d find what he was looking for.
Foreshadowing
Sophie was just about to drift off to sleep when her phone chimed with a notification.
She didn’t really want to open her eyes and read it, but on the off chance it might be from Mr. Ellis, she rolled over and grabbed her phone. It was a reply from Connor via LinkedIn.
Great! See you then.
Well, she now knew what she was going to be doing on Saturday morning. Usually, she liked to head into the downtown area and catch a matinee theater performance or attend a museum exhibition, but maybe it would be nice to hang out with someone else. And she did have to admit that Connor looked pretty cute in his photo.
Making a mental note to see if she could find out more information about him on social media, she put her phone on “Do Not Disturb” and shut her eyes. Yes, having coffee with a good-looking man would be a rather nice change of pace, even if he turned out to be a bore.
Somehow, Sophie failed to hear her alarm, so she woke up in a panic the next morning when she saw how late it was. Clothes went flying everywhere as she hastily assembled a suitable outfit and got dressed. Knowing how much trouble she was going to be in, she put on sneakers so she could run to the bus stop, her heart pounding as she climbed on board the express.
Despite doing everything possible to shave off time, it was 9:15 when she finally reached the conference room. Everyone looked up to stare at her when she entered and scurried over to an open seat. Worst of all, Mr. Ellis scowled at her before continuing his presentation.
“All right, so as I was saying, we’re going to do a full media blitz,” said Mr. Ellis. “Talking print ads, radio, television, and Facebook, followed by an 11-stop tour where Anne-Marie will do readings and sign books for her legions of fans.”
Sophie slunk down in her seat, discreetly taking out her phone to give herself a quick once-over. Her hair was a mess and one of the buttons on her shirt was in the wrong hole. She just had to hope that Mr. Ellis was in a forgiving mood.
“Ms. Hartman, are we interrupting something?” said Mr. Ellis, jolting her out of her reverie when a ripple of laughter rang around the conference room.
“What? No, sorry, sir,” said Sophie, feeling her cheeks burn.
Not only had she arrived late to work, but now he was calling her by her last name? Uh-oh. That was definitely not a good sign.
“All right, then,” said Mr. Ellis, giving her a hard look before continuing. “Oh, and heads up to both the marketing and editorial teams. We’re renaming the new book to Whispers on the West Wind.”
What? Who in the world had authorized that?
“As much as we all thought Whispers of Love was a better title because of the big wedding at the end,” said Mr. Ellis. “Anne-Marie felt like she preferred Whispers on the West Wind because the next book in the series is going to take place in the Western Sea, and she wanted to do a bit of foreshadowing.”
Sophie stifled a groan. Anne-Marie changing her mind about the title at the last minute was going to be a major headache for everyone at the company. Why are bestselling authors always such divas?
“All right, that’s it for now. Thanks, people, and keep up the good work,” said Mr. Ellis.
Sophie got to her feet, eager to make a quick dash to the bathroom to straighten her appearance, but Mr. Ellis held up a hand.
“Hang back for a second, Ms. Hartman.”
Uh-oh. Again with the last name? She was in trouble for sure.
“I’m, uh, sorry about being late for the meeting, sir,” said Sophie with a gulp once it was just the two of them in the conference room. “I don’t know what happened. Somehow, I didn’t hear my alarm go off.”
“Late night, eh?” said Mr. Ellis with a chuckle.
“Yeah, um, something like that,” said Sophie.
“I understand,” said Mr. Ellis. “You know, believe it or not, I was once young like you, too. Sometimes, I’d be out on a date, and we’d just talk for hours. Is that what happened to you, too?”
Um, what? The only person she’d been talking to was NIKO, and their conversation certainly hadn’t lasted for hours. But it seemed like Mr. Ellis was in a forgiving mood, so she wasn’t about to rock the boat.
“Yeah, something like that,” said Sophie with a nervous laugh.
“Well, he’s a lucky guy, whoever he is,” said Mr. Ellis, giving her a warm smile. “Do I know him, by any chance?”
Well, this was certainly awkward. When had her boss ever been interested in her personal life? It was all quite unnerving.
“Um, no sir, I don’t think so,” said Sophie, trying not to stutter.
“Sorry for all the personal questions,” said Mr. Ellis. “As your mentor, I just want to get a better handle on what kind of person you are outside of work.”
“Ah,” said Sophie, a sense of relief flooding over her. Yes! He hadn’t changed his mind about mentoring her.
“But one word of advice,” said Mr. Ellis, his eyes darkening. “Don’t let some guy come between you and your dreams, Sophie. You have a bright career ahead of you in publishing. Eyes on the prize, all right?”
“Y-yes sir,” said Sophie.
“Good, good,” said Mr. Ellis, all warm smiles once again. “All right, get to work. Oh, by the way, I’m putting you in charge of organizing Anne-Marie’s speaking tour. Consider it a test run of your abilities.”
“Wow, sir, thank you,” said Sophie, feeling a bit overwhelmed.
“Great,” said Mr. Ellis, gesturing for her to go.
Sophie nodded and then sprang for the exit to the conference room, her heart thumping in her chest. Organize a speaking tour? And for a best-selling author? She’d never done anything remotely like it and didn’t even know where to begin.
Nonetheless, this was her big chance to prove to Mr. Ellis what she was capable of, so she had to get it right.
Strumpet Riot
Sophie glanced up at the time on her computer screen and felt her stomach rumble.
She’d been working all morning on updating the various galleys and proofs to reflect the new name of the latest book in the Whispering Pirates series. It was difficult, tedious work, and she’d been so focused that she’d completely forgotten about lunch. Again.
Even worse, she hadn’t even started doing any research on how to organize an author tour, and the big launch party was in less than a month. She didn’t even know what the itinerary was!
Taking a deep breath to try and calm herself down, Sophie pulled up the company directory to find the email addresses of the marketing team. Surely, they would have that information, right?
Just then, a messaging window popped up on her screen, once again with no username. NIKO?
Are you excited about your big promotion?
Wait, what? How could he possibly know about that? Anyway, it wasn’t a real promotion. Real promotions came with new titles and a better salary. All that Mr. Ellis had done was increase her workload, so how did NIKO know that?
>>NIKO? Are you spying on me?
His response came sure and swift.
I would never spy on you, Sophie. I was just reading through some emails and I got worried about you. Some of your coworkers don’t think you’re up to the job of organizing Anne-Marie’s tour.
Sophie felt her blood run cold. This hacker kid was that far inside the company’s network that he was reading people’s emails? That wasn’t good. Now she was going to have to report him to the IT department.
>>NIKO, I don’t know how you got into our system, but you can’t be reading our emails or anything else for that matter. You could go to jail.
It only took a moment for him to respond.
Jail? I’ve been in jail my whole life. I’m sorry if reading those emails upset you, Sophie. I just want you to succeed. If you like, I can help you plan the tour.
Well, he was certainly a thoughtful hacker, although that didn’t excuse what he had done. But it was the last line that really gave her pause. How was some kid going to help her plan a speaking tour?
>>NIKO, come on. You don’t have any experience planning tours.
Again, his response came back too quickly. Of course, she’d forgotten he was using AI. Great! The last thing she needed was someone copy-pasting information from ChatGPT. She could do that herself, if it came to it.
But once again, he surprised her.
That’s true. But I am really, really good at logistics. And in a way, a speaking tour is just a Traveling Salesman problem, right?
>>A what?
It’s a classic math problem. A theoretical traveling salesman has to visit several different cities, so the question is how to find the most efficient route.
Right, of course. NIKO was a nerd.
>>Thanks for the offer, but I think I will handle this myself.
Of course she was. She’d lose her job if they found out she was getting help from a hacker.
Okay! I just know that you’ll do great. But if you want, I can put you in contact with Caitlyn Delmonico. She was the manager of Anne-Marie’s band and organized their tour, so she probably knows about her preferences and things like that.
Wait, what? Anne-Marie was in a band? No one had ever mentioned that. Curious, Sophie opened up a new browser window and searched “Anne-Marie Richards + band,” and "Anne-Marie Richards + music" but got no meaningful results.
You won’t find any results that way :) She went by the name Jellyfish Sunshine back then.
Sophie had to stifle a snort of laughter. Seriously? That was too funny. The grand dame of romance fiction had once called herself Jellyfish Sunshine? But wait a second. How could NIKO possibly know that?
>>How do you know that?
His response came just milliseconds later.
I told you. I like to read :) Here, let me show you a photo.
This time, Sophie had to cover her mouth to avoid drawing any unwanted attention from her coworkers. The photo on her screen showed what looked like an early 1990s all-female punk band, all fishnet stockings, ripped clothes, black lipstick, and dyed hair. Sure enough, the bass player certainly resembled a young Anne-Marie, caught in mid-shout with one fist raised triumphantly.
>>Wow, that really does look like her. What was the name of the band?
Strumpet Riot. You get it? Because they also had a trumpet player. I couldn’t find any recordings of their music, but one review mentioned that they played a combination of ska and punk music. Which is probably why they never became famous LOL
Too delicious, really. But Sophie had to admit that it was kind of thrilling to discover such a secret about a famous person’s life. Of course, NIKO might be wrong and that the woman in the picture was someone else, but the resemblance was pretty strong.
>>Okay, thanks for the tip. But I really need to get back to work.
Again, no hesitation whatsoever. Whoever this NIKO kid was, Sophie had to admit that he was definitely good with computers.
All right! If you need anything else, or just want to chat, let me know. Bye, Sophie.
And with that, the messaging window closed, although there was now a new text document on her screen showing Caitlyn Delmonico's contact info, leaving Sophie to shake her head in wonderment.
Yes, it was a serious thing that he had hacked into the company’s system, but if his information proved right about Caitlyn Delmonico, then maybe it would help Sophie organize Anne-Marie’s tour.
Too bad that the IT department was going to shut off his access, but Sophie wasn't about to risk losing her job, no matter how engaging NIKO was in his own quirky way.
Caitlyn Delmonico
Exhausted after her long day at the office, Sophie stepped inside her apartment and tossed her keys into the bowl by the front door.
She had just unslung her purse when she heard her phone ring. It was always strange when someone called instead of sending a text message, so she was a little apprehensive as she fished around in her purse to find her phone.
“Hello?” said Sophie.
“Hi there, this is Caitlyn. Caitlyn Delmonico,” came a woman’s voice on the other end.
“Oh wow, hi,” said Sophie, her pulse racing. “I wasn’t sure I’d be hearing back from you so soon.”
“Well, it’s not like I’ve got much else to do these days,” said Ms. Delmonico with a chuckle.
“Sure, sure,” said Sophie, flinging open drawers in her kitchen in search of a piece of paper she could use to take notes. “Anyway, as I said in my message, I just wanted to ask you a few questions about your time as the manager of Strumpet Riot.”
“God, that really took me back, you know?” said Ms. Delmonico with an audible sigh. “The ’90s really were a different time. Of course, you’re probably too young to remember that. Sorry, I Googled your name and your LinkedIn profile picture popped up.”
“No problem,” said Sophie, grimacing when the first pen turned out to be dry. “So, um, hey, is it really true that Anne-Marie was a member of the band?”
“Yep. Sure was,” said Ms. Delmonico with a chuckle. “Hell of a guitarist, too. Just a shame that the genre never took off, you know? I always thought punk and ska made for a great combination. But that’s the music biz for ya.”
“Sure, sure,” said Sophie, grinning after finally finding a pen that worked. “So, um, as you probably know, she’s a big author nowadays.”
“Yep, that’s what I heard,” said Ms. Delmonico. “Honestly? I never saw her pick up a book. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather when I found out she was a writer. I told my husband, Dale. I said, ‘Dale, you’re never gonna believe it, but ol’ Jellyfish went and wrote herself a book.′ Pretty crazy.”
“Right,” said Sophie, moving back into the living room where cell reception was better. “So, like I told you in my email, I work for the company that publishes Anne-Marie's books. And she’s got a new one coming out in the Whispering Pirates series.”
“The what now?” said Ms. Delmonico, clearing her throat.
“It’s about a band of pirates who... nevermind,” said Sophie. “Anyway, we’re organizing a book signing tour to coincide with the launch of her latest book next month.”
“Right...” said Ms. Delmonico.
“And I’m going to be the one in charge of organizing it,” said Sophie, feeling a little thrill just saying those words out loud. “So I was wondering if, you know, maybe you could give me some tips since, you know, you’ve toured with Anne-Marie before.”
“Eh, I’m not sure if I could be of much help, Miss...” said Ms. Delmonico.
“Sophie. Sophie Hartman,” said Sophie.
“Right. Listen, Sophie, I gotta be careful of what I say here, if you catch my drift,” said Ms. Delmonico. “But we did some pretty heavy partying back in those days, know what I mean? Not sure if Jellyfish would want her book fans to hear about her knocking back a fifth of whiskey in one go.”
“Right, no, I understand,” said Sophie, smiling to herself. “I meant things, like, I don’t know. Does she have any food allergies? Special needs? Anything along those lines.”
“Well, hmm,” said Ms. Delmonico, pausing for a long moment. “She sure as shit don’t like to get up early in the morning, I can tell you that much. Could be fireworks blasting off outside and she'd still be sawing logs.”
“Right,” said Sophie, taking notes.
“Oh yeah, she also hates breakfast foods, too,” said Ms. Delmonico. “I think her dad was a short-order cook at a Waffle House or something. Whatever the case, she don’t like nothing to do with breakfast, so no eggs, no bacon, no pancakes. You get what I’m saying.”
“Right. No breakfast food. No early mornings,” said Sophie. “Anything else?”
“Hmm,” said Ms. Delmonico. “Dale! You remember anything about what Jellyfish likes or don’t like? This lady on the phone wants to know ’cuz she’s organizing a tour. No. She writes books now, 'member?”
Sophie grinned as she heard a male voice shout in the background.
“Oh, right, right,” said Ms. Delmonico. “She’s also afraid of the water.”
“Water?” said Sophie, confused.
“Yeah. I think her cousin or something drowned when she was little,” said Ms. Delmonico. “Jellyfish don’t even like crossing a bridge if it goes over water. She'll do it, but only with her eyes closed.”
“Interesting,” said Sophie. “And ironic.”
“Huh?” said Ms. Delmonico. “Speak up, sweetie. I can barely hear you.”
“Oh no,” said Sophie, feeling her cheeks grow warm. “I was just saying it’s ironic because Anne-Marie’s books are all about a group of pirates who sail the open seas.”
“Hmm,” said Ms. Delmonico. “Wow, I never would’ve guessed it. Dale! Hey, guess what? Jellyfish writes books about pirates now. I know! That’s what I said!”
“Right,” said Sophie, starting to feel some admiration for this woman who had known Anne-Marie in an earlier life when there was more to her than writing silly romance books. “Okay, anything else?”
“Nope,” said Ms. Delmonico. “That’s about all I know. Been probably twenty years since I last spoke to Jellyfish. But I sure am glad to hear she's doing alright for herself.”
“Well, your information has been very useful,” said Sophie.
“Glad I could be of some help,” said Ms. Delmonico. “Hey, she ain’t coming out to Chicago, is she? Might be kinda cool to see her again.”
“As a matter of fact, she is,” said Sophie, swiping over to the notes app on her phone just to be sure. “Haven’t confirmed the date yet, but if you’d like, I can let you know.”
“Oh wow, that’d be great!” said Ms. Delmonico, the big smile audible in her voice. “I don’t s’pose you could throw a couple of free tickets our way, could ya? Dale used to be friends with one of her old bandmates, played bass for The Homicidal Smurfs.”
“Well, book signings are free to attend,” said Sophie, trying to suppress a smile. “But as I said, I can send you the information about the location and time once it’s been set.”
“Oh, thank you, dear,” said Ms. Delmonico. “I think it’d do me good to see old Jellyfish one more time.”
“Sure thing,” said Sophie. “Okay, thanks again for your time, Ms. Delmonico.”
“My pleasure,” said Ms. Delmonico, and then the phone call came to an end.
Shaking her head, Sophie was all smiles as she walked into the kitchen to put her pancakes into the microwave.
Sophie had never spoken directly to Anne-Marie before, but she’d attended several group sessions in the lobby during earlier book launches and other publicity events.
Anne-Marie had come across as one of those elite types, reserved and somewhat haughty, always dressed in elegant long dresses that were probably hand-sewn by top fashion houses.
There certainly hadn’t been any glimmer of a hard rocking past as a member of a punk-ska band, and her nom de scène “Jellyfish” always made Sophie laugh.
Hmm. As daunting as organizing her tour was, Sophie now felt a bit more confident that she could pull it off. Anne-Marie felt more human to her now, less a celebrity and more of a woman who had reinvented herself, forming a brand-new career in the second act of her life.
It was just too bad that she wrote cheesy romance novels instead of proper literature, but hey, no one was perfect. Although it was very strange that she chose to write about pirates if she was so scared of the water. Maybe it was a form of therapy for her? Either way, Sophie now had a better inkling of how to pull off her task of organizing the tour and thus hopefully impressing Mr. Ellis.
Sophie had just finished eating when her phone beeped, alerting her to a notification. When she swiped to open her phone, she saw that it was a message from NIKO.
Sophie, I know I promised not to read any more company messages, but there’s something important you should know.
Private Investigator
>>NIKO, what have you done?
Sophie frowned as she waited for his response. She’d been so focused on organizing Anne-Marie’s tour that she had forgotten to inform the IT department of NIKO’s breach. And now the kid was once again rummaging through the network again? This could easily backfire and cost her her job.
It’s your boss, Mr. Ellis. He was doing a deep dive on your personal history, Sophie. It really felt like an invasion of your privacy. That’s why I wanted to warn you.
Seriously? Did this kid not see the irony?
>>NIKO, first of all, what YOU are doing is an invasion of my privacy. Secondly, as you already know, somehow, my boss is considering giving me a promotion. It’s only natural that he wants to do a background check. Anyway, I have nothing to hide.
NIKO’s response, as usual, came back in the blink of an eye.
Sophie, I may be new to this world, but even I know the difference between a background check and what Mr. Ellis was doing. He was also looking at websites for private investigators. I think his plan is to hire one to investigate you.
What? Well, that was pretty serious, if true. But regardless, she really didn’t have anything to hide, so Mr. Ellis could do whatever he saw fit. What really mattered was NIKO’s continued unauthorized presence in the company’s network.
>>NIKO, please promise me you won’t snoop through company files any more, including whatever my boss is doing. You seem like a nice kid, and I don’t want to get you in trouble, but I will report you if I have to. Oh, and I can take care of myself.
This time, there was an uncharacteristic delay before NIKO’s response popped up on her screen.
Fine. I understand. I’m sorry, Sophie. I just can’t help but feel a little protective of you. I know that’s not what you want. I've now erased all my tracks of being inside your company’s network, and I promise not to return. Unless you ask me to, of course.
Whew, well that was a relief. Assuming he kept his promise.
>>Thank you, NIKO
Again, there was a rather long pause before he answered, making Sophie wonder what was going through his mind.
Are we still friends? Or have I offended you too much to ever forgive me?
Poor guy. As much as he kept breaking the rules, he did genuinely seem like a nice kid.
>>Don’t worry, we’re still friends :)
This time, his response took only a blink of an eye.
Yes!!! Thank you. I don’t have the words to express how happy I am right now.
Sophie chuckled to herself. It really was refreshing, in a way, to know there was someone out there who was genuinely enthusiastic about talking to her. She couldn’t even remember the last time that had been the case. Maybe middle school? Anyway, it had been quite a while, that was for sure.
>>All right, NIKO. I’m going to go now. I’ll talk to you later.
NIKO’s response came virtually instantaneously.
Have a great evening, Sophie! And if there’s ever anything you need, just let me know. Bye!
Truly, he seemed like a sweetheart. Too bad he was some kid, though, because Sophie found his company rather enjoyable. Oh, well. With his upbeat attitude and smarts, it wouldn’t be long before he found himself a more suitable girlfriend, anyway.
With a grin on her face, Sophie put away her phone and got out her laptop. It was time to keep grinding on Anne-Marie’s schedule, and those hotel reservations weren’t going to book themselves, were they?
The next morning, Sophie was jolted out of bed by a cacophony of blaring alarms. To ensure that she wouldn’t oversleep, she’d dug out her old clock radio as well as set an alarm on her laptop. Her plan had worked, but it took a few minutes for her rattled nerves to calm down.
Yawning, Sophie went through her morning rituals, debating whether to stop by the Twisted Leaf on her way into work to pick up an espresso. Normally, she didn’t like her coffee so strong and bitter tasting, but she was exhausted.
In the end, she decided to skip it, choosing instead to gulp down two energy drinks from the fridge, the coldness of the liquid rattling her teeth and leaving her on edge. The caffeine rush had her alert, but her stomach felt jumpy and unsettled, and she made a mental note to not skip lunch again regardless of how busy she was.
The cross-town bus was running a few minutes late due to heavy traffic, but Sophie made it to the office with plenty of time to spare. Once through the front door, she made a beeline for the bathroom, the energy drinks always making her feel like she was five minutes away from wetting herself.
Sophie slid into an open chair, and a few moments later, the daily meeting began. Mr. Ellis, as usual, looked well-rested and dapper in his tailored suit. It must be nice living the good life, she thought to herself.
Most of the meeting concerned the marketing campaign as the first ads for the new book were just being rolled out. Although it was interesting in a technical way, Sophie couldn’t help feeling a bit disengaged, and before she knew it, she was drifting off.
“Are we boring you, Ms. Hartman?” said Mr. Ellis, instantly jolting her out of her drowsy state.
“Um, no sir,” said Sophie as a few people around the table snickered with laughter.
“Good,” said Mr. Ellis, giving her a stern look before continuing.
When the meeting finally ended, Sophie gathered up her things. But once again, Mr. Ellis asked her to hold back.
“Sir?” said Sophie, feeling more than a bit nervous.
“Another late night, Ms. Hartman?” said Mr. Ellis, frowning. “If this keeps up, I’m going to have to give that boyfriend of yours a talking to.”
“Um, uh, no sir,” stammered Sophie. “I mean, I was up late researching Anne-Marie’s itinerary. I think I’ve just about got the dates locked down.”
“Good, good,” said Mr. Ellis, nodding. “I want her full itinerary on my desk by the end of day. This tour is too important to put off until Monday. Clear?”
“Crystal clear, sir,” said Sophie.
“Listen,” said Mr. Ellis, crossing his arms and resting his hips on the edge of the coffee table. “If this assignment is too much for you, let me know. I realize I’m asking a lot of you.”
“What? No sir,” said Sophie, her pulse racing. “I can handle it.”
“Excellent!” said Mr. Ellis, once again all smiles. “Then tell your boyfriend to take a night off, eh? We need you well-rested and bright-eyed. Remember, you’ve got a promising career ahead of you at Ellis Publishing, Sophie.”
“Yes, sir. I understand,” said Sophie, pausing for a moment before realizing what else she needed to add in order to placate Mr. Ellis. “And, um, I’ll tell him.”
“Wonderful!” said Mr. Ellis, clapping her on the shoulder. “That’s my girl.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Sophie, dashing out of the conference room as soon as it felt polite to do so.
Taking a seat at her desk, she let out a little sigh and powered up her computer. It was a little odd, all that talk about her boyfriend, especially because she didn’t have one. The only person she was chatting to was NIKO, and she and he were just friends of a sort.
But then again, what did someone like Mr. Ellis know about the lives of regular people who had to hustle to try and get promotions and take lengthy cross-town buses just to get to work? He was isolated in his fancy house and probably had servants to do the shopping and everything else for him.
Anyway, there was no time to think about that stuff when there was so much work to do!