Frederic’s sent me a list of names, email addresses and telephone numbers of people I can interview for the biography, and I will contact them, but first I want to sketch out a rough plan for the book. Which periods of his life have been most significant. What should the overarching thread of the

story be. Rags to riches? Boy next door? Eccentric genius? To get started, I spend the morning Googling him and reading every article, interview and Tweet I can find. He’s not got any social media accounts of his own but there are numerous fan accounts.

By lunchtime I feel restless, and I grab the set of keys he gave me and head outside. I have no idea where anything is or what I want, but it feels good just to explore the streets. There’s a small supermarket close by, and a few bistros, but I keep going until I find a café and order, very haltingly, a salad and strawberry tart. I eat sitting outside at a wicker table, relishing every bite.

I get so lost in my notes and research in the afternoon, and a large cafetière of coffee, that it’s a surprise when I hear keys in the front door. Frederic appears, sees me sitting at the table with my laptop, and smiles.

“I hope you haven’t been there all day,” he says, taking off his jacket and coming toward me.

“Nope. I went out for the most delicious lunch.”

“Oh, yes? Where?”

I stretch my arms up over my head. I’ve been sitting still too long. “No idea.”

He laughs. “Well, as it’s a nice evening, shall we go for a walk and I’ll show you the area? Let me take a shower first, though. That studio is so stuffy.”

While he showers I change out of my shorts and T-shirt into a long green skirt and cream top. I wait by the window, looking out toward Notre Dame and drinking a glass of water. I think I know how I want to tackle the biography now, and I’ll start calling people to interview in the morning.

When Frederic comes back he’s wearing a fresh shirt and his curls are damp. As he heads for the front door, he asks, “Did you send your story in?”

“Oh.” It’s nearly six thirty. Well after the deadline.

He stops, turning to me with a frown.

“No, I didn’t. I sort of forgot.”

His narrowed eyes are filled with reproach and my heart starts to batter against my ribs. He shouldn’t look at people like that. He’s taking years off my life.

“You forgot?”

I didn’t forget forget. It occurred to me several times throughout the day but I kept putting off thinking about it. Each time it got easier and easier as I convinced myself that the story was rubbish and Frederic wouldn’t remember my promise anyway. “It wasn’t any good. It was terrible, in fact. They wouldn’t have liked it.”

He just looks at me, his lips pressed together and his eyes hardening like glass. “That’s not acceptable, Evie.”

The bottom falls out of my stomach. What does he mean? He walks past me back into the room. “It’s much more important that I focus on the biography right now,” I explain. “I would’ve had to spend most of the day editing it to make it...”

But I trail off because Frederic doesn’t seem to be listening. He sits down on the sofa and unbuttons and rolls back the sleeves of his shirt, looking me in the eyes the whole time. Then he points to one knee. “Come on.”

I frown, puzzled. “What?”

“Get over my knee.”

I let out a bray of startled laughter. “What?”

“I’m not kidding, Evie. You went back on a promise and I take promises very seriously. So I’m going to punish you.”

“Are you freaking kidding me? What are you going to do, spank me?” I can’t help but grin at the absurdity of this question.

“Yes.”

My pulse pounds hard in my ears. I can see from his expression that he’s not kidding, not even a little bit, and suddenly I’m not smiling anymore. “Look, I’m sorry that I broke the promise but it was my story and I didn’t think it was any good.”

“Ten,” he says.

“Ten what?”

“Nine.”

Tags: Brianna Hale Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net