When The Rules Are Broken ✔️

Chapter Three

Amelia edited with gusto on her laptop as she breathed life into the empire of Anora. It was a place where magic and strife ruled along with the threats from a bloodthirsty tyrant, who was hell-bent on keeping the lovers apart. Her phone rang, bringing her to the reality from the midst of the epic betrayal.

"Hello, this is Amelia speaking."

"Hi, it's James."

His voice, rough with huskiness, made her clutch the phone. "Um, hi. I wasn't expecting your call." Play it cool, Millie.

"I'm a man of my words." James chuckled. The noise of people chattering in the background accompanied his next sentence. "I was wondering if you want to have lunch with me."

"I'm a little hungry," she said, unsure where this conversation was going. Where is he?

"Great, I will order some food for us then. Do you mind buzzing me in?" James asked, sounding sheepish.

What? "Buzz you in?" she echoed, nonplussed.

"I'm outside your apartment," he replied.

Bolting upright in her alcove sitting area, Amelia pushed aside the curtains and looked two floors down to find James in a white T-shirt and jeans.

Springing up, Amelia ambled to allow him in. With butterflies in her stomach, she waited, wondering what he was doing here. When the knock sounded, she smoothed her daisy-printed shorts and opened the door. He looked windswept and gorgeous, just like Ethan, the Prince of Shizare, who had rebelled against the mighty Anora. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought.

"Our food will be here soon. There is a pizzeria nearby that does home delivery," he told her, stepping in. "I hope I am not interrupting anything."

"No, not really. I was just writing." Amelia watched him bewildered as she shut the door. "Sorry, I don't want to be rude, but what's this all about?"

"I wanted to take you out for dinner to talk business, but I had a light day at work. So, I thought to check if you are home and in the mood for lunch." James surveyed the living room, not giving much away.

"Business? I still don't know what you are talking about." What kind of game was he playing with her? When was talking about Henry a business?

"My lawyer brought to my attention that you were working on my grandfather's manuscript, whose ownership has passed on to me." His eyes narrowed with shrewdness. "When were you going to tell me about this, Miss Ghostwriter?"

Alarm bells clanged in her head. "But I'm the co-author!" Henry had promised that she will get the credit for her work. After all, she had created ninety percent of the story.

"There is nothing in the contract that talks about you being the co-author or owing half of the copyright. Technically, if you publish it, you will get into trouble," James explained as his gaze shifted to a picture of her in Matthew's arms in Tuscany. He scowled. "I can sue you for it."

"Now, wait a minute. Are you accusing me of stealing someone's work?" she thundered in shock. How dare he? "You really think this low of me. What Henry left me was a verbal plot that he had entertained for a long time. He never gave me anything in writing, only character names and a map of this fantasy world. I worked day and night on the first part of this trilogy. And, now he is gone, I don't know how to even start the second book."

"Am I supposed to believe this after you hid the existence of the manuscript?" He folded his arms, looking cross.

"I'm not a thief," She protested in exasperation. "You know what. Admit it. You never liked your grandfather hanging out with me. Oh my God, you were jealous of our friendship."