“LUCA AND AVERY seemed excited that we’ll be in the Azores soon.” Nico wraps his arm around me as we turn onto a cobblestone street brimming with people and shops. On our stroll today, we quickly called them ahead of our visit in a few days.
“I’m excited to spend my birthday with them.”
“It’ll be great.” Nico smiles. “We’ll have to explain the matching tattoos to them, though; gonna be a bit hard to hide that.”
He runs his thumb over the black ink kissing my inner arm.
It was a risky impulse decision that has come with no regrets. It’s too beautiful to dislike or tire of.
“I’ll simply tell them you stole my design,” I say. “Ruthless.”
London has been a change of pace from Rio. I miss the people, the sun, and the beach every day, but London’s different. It probably has something to do with the fact I’m constantly getting laid by a man who can find my G- spot with his eyes closed. Or the fact that he’s taken the time to run his fingers over the chains around my heart, stirring it awake.
I keep trying to convince myself it’s the former, but I’m beginning to understand that I’m failing miserably. The matching ink on our skin spells it out loud and clear.
We pass shop after shop and peruse a few outdoor stands. We try on wooly hats and play around with bobbles until, out of the corner of my eye, I spot a huge bookstore.
Nothing like the smell of paper to make a perfect day even better.
There’s an intricate display in the window with paper swans floating from the ceiling. But my gaze falls onto something that forcibly drains the blood from my face.
“Are you okay?” Nico notices the shift in my posture. All I manage is a stumble backward.
Maybe I’m hallucinating.
I rub at my eyes, but when I open them again, the familiar words still stare back at me.
“Oh shit.” Nico joins the newly distorted reality in front of me. “That’s your book! So fucking cool. Let’s go buy a copy.”
He walks past me, aiming for the entrance to the bookstore.
“Wait.” My hand grabs his arm, halting him. “I—I don’t sell my books internationally.”
“What do you mean? Your book’s right there.”
It is right there. The same colors of a melting sunset with the title of my novella in large, bright letters.
Coastal Fling.
“Obviously, I can see it, Nico,” I say with an unintentional snap. Panic clouds me like an incoming storm. “I don’t print my books outside of the States.”
There must be a reasonable explanation for this.
“Did your printing company expand across the border?”
“Um.” I pull out my phone, searching through every possible keyword in my inbox but coming up short. “Ever Printing should’ve sent me an email or something.”
Nico types away beside me, likely searching for a way to understand this.
“I can’t stand out here. I need to go in.” I abandon our spot outside and burst through the door like a bull seeing red.
“Welcome.” A smiling clerk greets us, but politeness is the last thing on my mind.
It takes a few seconds to find the book. I pick it up—my book.
The subtle differences in the copy are instantly apparent to my naked eye.
It feels lighter. The pages are closer to Ever Printing’s affordable printing stock than the premium paper I prefer to use. The cover is altered
slightly, the colors pale and the spine bleeding.
“That one’s so good if you’re looking for something a little…” The clerk lowers their voice slightly. “Hot. I read it last week and learned a thing or two about myself.”
“Uh, yeah, thanks,” I choke out the words to the first and only fan I’ve ever met in person.
I flip through the pages until I find the copyright disclosure. There, in lieu of Zoe Mona LLC, sits MIT Inc.
The pungent taste of acid creeps up my esophagus.
I turn to the back page and spot the blaring logo for a company called Villa Printers where Ever Printing’s logo is supposed to be.
What the fuck is this?
“From what I can see online, it doesn’t look like Ever Printing is allowed to distribute books in the United Kingdom.” Nico’s voice comes from beside me, and I realize I completely forgot he was here.
That confirms it.
“Someone stole my work.”
 |
“DON’T WORRY, we’ll figure it out.” Nico repeats the same reassuring words as we comb the internet for any explanation.
I glance at my laptop screen again. The UK bestsellers list stares back at me. Coastal Fling sits in the number-three spot.
My book—well, this imposter of a book—is an international bestseller. Fucking fantastic.
“Check your bank details, Lil. Make sure nothing’s been hacked,” he offers, pulling me out of the drowning sensation in my lungs. “Better yet, change all your passwords.”
My laptop freezes for the second time today. “Agh, this fucking laptop.”
“Here, I’ll order you a new one right now. Trust me, the last thing you need to be worrying about is a faulty computer.”
Nico clicks away.
“No,” I bite, feeling overprotective over the ancient device. It’s the first big purchase I ever made, and I’m not ready to let it go. I’m not ready for
any of this. The screen refreshes. “See, it’s fine.”
My fingers work on autopilot, mechanically resetting all my information. I log into my checking account.
$68,920.07.
The balance jolts me out of my river of panic. There’s no way that’s real.
I scan through the recent deposits, all from Ever Printing.
A little over two weeks ago, my balance was a fraction of what I’m looking at now.
If I’ve made this much, what is the person plagiarizing my work making?
For fuck’s sake. I probably need a lawyer or something.
What does that even cost? Would I have to come clean about being the real Zoe Mona?
How did I not catch this sooner?
“You were right, look at this.” Nico slides his laptop across the counter. “Villa Printers is the only non-traditional publishing house that prints books in the UK.”
I stare at the company’s unfamiliar logo. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Nico dials their helpline number and sets his phone on speaker in front of me.
“Welcome to Villa Printers,” says a robotic voice.
I rapidly smash down the zero. The universal hack for when I need to speak to a breathing human being, not an automated machine.
The line flattens. A few breaths later, a voice fills the room. “Hello, you’ve reached Villa Printers. This is Samantha speaking. You are on a recorded—”
“My book was plagiarized,” I interrupt the terms-and-conditions rundown.
“I am so sorry. We take claims like this very seriously, and I would be ecstatic to connect you with our legal department.”
The line clicks, and a tune plays before I have a second to say anything else.
My teeth snap one of my nails in half from my nervous chewing. The familiar wash of a tension headache creeps up the edges of my ears.
I haven’t had one of these in a month.
“How could this even happen?” Nico paces around the living room of our suite.
I expel a tight breath. “I’m trying to figure that out right now.”
“Would someone at Villa Printers need the original manuscript, or can anyone just download a copy of your book online?”
“Ever Printing distributes exclusively in the US. I would’ve had to upload the original manuscript to a different country’s printer for it to be available there.”
“Could your publisher have done it?”
The gears of my mind spin. “I’ve never signed away my copyright. I own all my work.”
“Maybe it’s an angry fan?” His foot taps against the ground.
My teeth grit tighter. Doesn’t he understand I don’t have the answer to any of these questions?
“I don’t know. Can you just—” The tension around my head reaches a breaking point, blurring my vision.
My rationality fails, and the intrusive thoughts get the better of me.
This is my fault. I got too comfortable being distracted and indulging in my time off. This would’ve never happened if I was in New York and not parading around the world with a guy I like.
Static crackles across the speaker. “Case number, please.” “Hi, uh…I don’t have one. Someone stole my—”
The attendant clears their throat. “We can’t address your concerns without a case number. Is there anything else I can help—”
“But someone plagiarized my work and used your company to print
illegal copies.”
“I’m not qualified to discuss this further, madam. After you fill out a plagiarism claim form online, our internal team will assign you to a lawyer in the next week or so, and then you can try us back.”
Fury mauls at my insides. “What am I supposed to do while this is happening?”
“If there’s proof that shows you’re the manuscript’s owner and if it has been distributed to our press illegally, a lawyer will be in touch.”
My hands curl into fists. They think I’m lying.
I throw the phone across the living room, shattering it to pieces. A ravaged wail leaves me.
“I needed a new phone anyway,” Nico whispers.
“I—I’m sorry. I’ll have to get you another one,” I stammer.
“Don’t worry about it. Now look here. I found the plagiarism claim form they mentioned on the call and started filling it out.” He points his laptop screen at me. “Also, I sent out an email to my network to see if we can find an attorney at Villa Printers. I’m sure we’ll—”
“Please stop.” I push away his computer, reach my trembling hands for my laptop, and pull up the Villa Printers website. “Someone stole my book, Nico.”
The feeling of violation hasn’t quite left me since the bookstore. My eyes burn as I hold back the tears already brimming my eyes. Great.
There goes my no-crying streak.
“I don’t understand this very much, but it’s fucking horrible, Lil. I’m going to help you figure this out—”
“I got it.” I scan the webpage through the stinging blur, searching for the correct plagiarism form. There are over five hundred links here, all with some kind of incoherent variation. “It’s my book, my problem. I’ll fix it myself. I don’t need any of your help.”
“What are you doing? Just use the form I already filled out.” Nico sighs, trying to pry my laptop out of my hands.
Deep breaths.
He isn’t the problem, but I want to erupt at him, taking all this pent-up anger and expelling it.
He doesn’t deserve it.
I force another inhale into my lungs. “I appreciate it, Nico, but this is my
mess. It doesn’t concern you at all.” I wipe away a stray tear.
Fucking pathetic.
“Of course it concerns me,” he says. “It’s hurting you. Look, stop being stubborn and—”
“Nico, cut it out. You’re on vacation and don’t need to worry about my
problems. Just leave it alone. Leave me alone. Okay?”
“You need to fucking stop, Lily. I’m here with you, and we’re going to figure this out together.” His voice drops to an uncompromising note. “Whether you like it or not.”
“I don’t like to rely on anyone.”
“Be brave, sweet girl, and try,” he says. “I promise, I got you.”
