Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
The car ride to the beach was short and silent. Theo seemed to follow my lead as we made our way down onto Gairloch Beach. It wasn’t a huge stretch of sand, but I was happy to walk the length of it a few times over to enjoy the sea breeze.
It was much colder than it had been just a week ago, but I welcomed the chilly prickle on my skin as we strode on the compacted sand near the water. The skies were a moody gray above, and the sea, if not rough, was marginally choppy. It rushed a little aggressively at the shore, and the rhythmic sound relaxed me.
However, it did not distract me from noticing Theo’s attention. I could feel him staring down at me as we walked. I wasn’t a tiny woman at five foot six, but a good eight inches shorter than Cavendish. He strolled at my side, and when I finally turned to look at him, our eyes locked. I knew he was staring at me.
My cheeks flushed at the intensity of his gaze. Did I have something on my face? “What is it?”
“You look much better,” he stated factually. “Even with no makeup, you’re rather beautiful, little mouse.”
I flushed, though he’d commented with as much emotion as a robot. Embarrassed and annoyed by how contradictory he was, I huffed, “Are you trying to flatter the adaptation rights out of me now?”
Theo’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “No. I’m just shocked at how attractive you are. Usually, one notices someone as attractive as you. It must go unnoticed because you skitter about like a frightened mouse, trying to stay invisible.”
The comment stung. Badly. I looked away, staring at the water, refusing to respond to his mockery.
After a minute or so, Theo spoke again. “I didn’t intend to insult you.”
I turned back to him, drawing to a stop. “No, I think you very much intended to insult me.” And I didn’t understand him at all. Before he could respond, I resumed walking. The breeze blew through my hair and whispered over my skin. Needing a moment, I halted, turning toward the water. Then I closed my eyes, hands in my coat pockets, and just enjoyed the feel of nature all around me. Nothing but the sound of the water and the seagulls crying in the skies.
My legs still felt a wee bit wobbly, but I definitely had more energy than before.
I knew that I’d recovered so well because Theo had been a pushy nurse, making sure I ate (even when I didn’t want to) and drank plenty of fluids. How could he go from being so casually kind and caring to being a complete and utter wanker? I couldn’t even enjoy that he thought me beautiful because it was a backhanded compliment.
The man was so frustrating.
Shoving thoughts of him away, I tried to focus on being on this stunning beach. Opening my eyes, I watched the water ripple a little more wildly than usual.
I felt Theo at my side, staring out at the water too.
After a while, he spoke again. “I’ll give you one thing, little mouse. You never deblaterate, and it’s rather refreshing.”
Deblaterate. To prattle, blab, babble. “I’ve never been much for prattling or small talk.”
He laughed, eyeing me as if I were a new species of human. “You’re very interesting, aren’t you, Sarah? Or should I say S. M. Brodie?”
Another wave of flutters shook my belly, and I didn’t know if it was because he’d used my name instead of that horrible pet name or because it was now hitting me that Theo, my number one choice, was here to write the screenplay of Hollow Grave. My life had been a strange mix of dream and nightmare this past year.
I straightened my shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Jack Irving’s production company will pay me a minimum of a hundred grand if the TV show gets made. And an option fee of £8000.” I’d learned that an option fee was what a production company paid for the rights to make the TV show or movie. If they didn’t produce it within eighteen months, they had to pay another fee or the rights would revert to me.
Theo considered this. “Is that for the first book only?”
I nodded.
“And how many copies has the series sold worldwide?”
“At last count, over eight million. The first book alone has sold nearly two million.”
“Christ.” He whistled. “Well done, little mouse.”
I gave him a look and he grinned.
“Fine. When we get back to the cottage, I’ll have my agent, Fern, reach out to your agent with my offer.”
“Which is?”
“Ten-thousand-pound option fee for eighteen months. But I have an idea for incorporating book two into the first season, so I’d want the rights to Hollow Grave and City of Deceit and we’ll work out a percentage that equates to a minimum payout above Jack Irving’s offer if the thing gets made. And with me at the helm, it will.”