Leah
He didn’t have to show. But he did.
All the soft nudges, the friendly reminders to his office and to Tamra’s, had finally paid off. And now here they were—her guests at NDA’s first formal event.
Leah could’ve done without Tamra, who, out in the wild, was somehow even more unsettling. That cool reserve, the flawless mask of makeup, the stillness in her gaze always taking inventory. Even here, on someone else’s turf, Tamra managed to get in the way.
But none of that mattered. Darin hugged Leah when he arrived. Hugged her. In front of everyone, including Wendy.
Leah let it sink in, then seized her opening. “There’s someone I want to introduce you to,” she says, already steering Darin across the rooftop, weaving through clusters of influencers and executives, until she spots Boots near the branded step-and-repeat. Tamra follows in silence, her eyes sweeping the scene.
“Darin Rossellini, meet Boots Plotkin, the woman behind tonight’s event.”
Boots turns, catching Darin’s eye half a second before she hears his name. Her smile is poised, but Leah catches it—the extra beat of attention.
“A pleasure,” Darin says.
“Likewise,” Boots replies.
Their handshake is firm. And it lingers just long enough for Leah to see it click. Darin is taking Boots in. Not just her curves, but the force of her presence. This is the win. Boots, magnetic. Darin, hooked. And me—the power broker in between.
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She presses on: “Darin’s got a massive digital following, and Boots, NDA’s head of events, is building her platform as she wraps her book proposal. You kids should talk. Could be synergy.”
“I’m always open to new collabs,” Darin says, like he’s handing out favors. “Especially with women who know how to hold a room.”
“Very kind of Leah to make the connection,” Boots replies smoothly. “We’re thrilled you’re here tonight. But I wouldn’t want to impose—”
“Not imposing,” Darin cuts in. “I already have some ideas.”
And then Leah hears it.
“What kind of ideas?”
They all turn.
“Wendy Deerwood,” she says, stepping forward, as if the conversation’s been waiting for her. “Head of NDA’s literary division. We represent some of the most influential voices in nonfiction.” She lets the line linger just long enough before pivoting to Leah. “Which is why it’s surprising to see certain junior agents crashing events, chasing clients far beyond their reach.”
Leah meets Wendy’s gaze with polite indifference, like she’s already weighed her opinion and found it irrelevant. “Better to crash a party than cling to one lucky break from a decade ago.”
Darin grins faintly, interested now for other reasons. “Nice to meet you,” he says, measuring Wendy with quiet interest.
“The pleasure’s mine,” she replies with a self-satisfied smile. “And let me underscore, if you ever need literary representation, please don’t hesitate. I’d be happy to talk strategy whenever it’s useful.”
“He’s got me for that,” Leah says, taking just a step closer.
“Don’t mind her, Darin. Leah’s just here for the free food, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Wendy’s voice rises just enough to make sure everyone hears it. “I saw those little piggies-in-blankets you love. I’m sure the kitchen can box up a few for the road.”
You stupid retarded trashbox cunt—
But the comeback withers before it ever leaves Leah’s lips.
“Lovely to meet you,” Wendy croons, already looping her arm through Boots’s. “Boots, Carina, and I need you.”
“Oh, uh, it was so nice to meet you,” Boots calls back, a little flustered, as Wendy steers her away.
Leah can only watch, helpless, as they disappear into the crowd.