Bonding happens in mysterious ways. Clarion suggested Eli take Fanny to investigate publishing concerns in London. Was he making a business proposal or matchmaking?
Eli said with a wry grin. “We need a plan.”
“Plan for what?” Suspicion seeped in, and her brows pulled together. Fanny’s writing, too precious, too personal, did not need interference. “You will kindly tell your employer he is not to interfere. I appreciated the opportunity to learn more, but—”
“Duly noted, madam author. As your business advisor, however, I would suggest you need a plan. We will review our notes, examine their offerings, and settle on a short list of target publishers.” Eli, who was across from her in the back facing seat, leaned elbows on his knees. “Then we will decide which of your works most suits each one, and write a targeted proposal to—”
“Are you?” Fanny asked, suddenly sober.
“Am I what?”
“My business advisor.” She sorted the words in her mind. Advisor. Not dictator.
“I think I have been since the day we met.” Eli met her eyes, searching and probing, but she couldn’t think what he sought.
Business advisor. She liked the sound of it, as if she managed her own business. As if he worked for her. That part didn’t sit perfectly well. Partners perhaps sounded better, but it still felt flat. Is that all we are to one another?