HIS FAVORITE SIN!

R rated.

Anna

I had the school newsroom shift today.

Shit shift.

Don’t get me wrong—I loved the newsroom. It had taught me the joy of writing, gifted me a purpose when I had none, and had once been the reason I could survive a lot of things. Yes, even getting a throbbing cheek and being manhandled by a pretty girl in ogre makeup.

But today?

Today was not the day for this.

Should I fake a stomach bug and hide in the bathroom? Call in sick and pretend to be somewhere near death?

Too late. I opened the door.

“What the f**k?! How am I supposed to work with this?!”

The moment I pushed the door open, Jasmine’s voice ripped through the air like a grenade going off in a tight, crowded room. The editor-in-chief—final year, just like me, except armed with a clipboard, an unnecessarily aggressive attitude, and the unfortunate belief that yelling was a leadership skill.

“And why the hell are you wearing a hoodie over your head?” she snapped before I even stepped fully inside. “Today is picture day, and I do not want to see that ugly, last-season thing covering our school uniform.”

Fantastic. Queen Dragon was in a mood.

I should’ve taken that bathroom route.

“It was a cold morning,” I muttered, tugging the hoodie off and trudging into the chaos of the room.

The HCA newsroom the shortened form of Hill Crest Academy newsroom, was... a beautiful disaster. Walls papered with mock-up covers, past issues pinned like trophies. Whiteboards scrawled with deadlines and who missed them. Desks cluttered with empty coffee cups, tangled cords, and old issues of Teen Vogue or Time, depending on which half of the newsroom you sat on. The scent was always a curious mix of printer ink, peppermint gum, and barely-contained panic.

Yara sat in the corner, feeding clean paper into our ancient, groaning printer like it was a sacred offering. She looked up with a yawn. Cute Indian girl with big brown eyes I quietly envied. Also, the only friend I didn’t share with Danielle.

“What’s going on?” I asked, joining her and helping stack the latest edition of our school magazine. The cover was hidden, wrapped in dramatic black paper—even we, the ones who worked on it, weren’t allowed to see it before distribution. High school secrecy at its finest.

“We’ve got drama. The art instructor submitted book titles for the school play this year,” Yara said, rolling her eyes.

“And that’s a big deal because...?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

We were a school newsroom, sure, but at HCA, we also had creative rights over the play—stage design, promotions, theme alignment. Which meant: if the play went sideways, so did we.

“There’s a rogue book in the list,” Yara whispered, glancing dramatically toward the announcement room. Inside, Jasmine paced and roared like a dragon guarding cursed treasure. “I’m telling you, this one is a curveball. Threw her way off.”

I chuckled, wincing slightly.

Yara caught it instantly. “Hey... are you hurt again?”

“Yep. The usual. Got thrown against a wall this time.”

She stopped folding, eyes wide with concern.

“Don’t worry,” I added quickly, giving her a crooked grin. “I didn’t take it lying down. I was already grumpy enough for this shift. Which, let me remind you, is a Monday morning graveyard—right after a Friday deadline hell. Who scheduled this? Satan?”

Yara laughed, but the concern didn’t leave her eyes.

“Anna—”

“Stop. Tell me more about this book that apparently set the world on fire.”

She hesitated, then leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “The best part? The art instructor put it in herself. Refused to listen to Jasmine whining about it clashing with the newsroom’s chosen theme.”

“What did she choose? We’re usually not far off. Romance, young adult, something mildly inspirational that ends with a standing ovation and parents wiping tears...”

“No, girl,” Yara said dramatically. “This year, we are so far off course it’ll take us three weeks just to set things straight. Meetings. Daily meetings.”

“Three weeks?” I frowned. I don’t have three weeks. I have finals, a book deadline, and my publisher breathing down my neck to start the next one—even though this one isn’t even finished!

Yara giggled. “yep, you’ll want to sit down for this.”

I didn’t get the chance.

“Anna Lindsey, you are being called to the headmistress’s office.”

The announcement crackled through the intercom like a curse.

Yara jumped, nearly dropping a stack of papers. “What the—! Why didn’t Jasmine just tell you herself? She’s literally 30 steps away!” Yara fumed, literally, Jasmine made an announcement through the intercom while I was in the same room as her.

This was exactly I hated her.

“Anyway,” Yara continued, voice high with amusement, “as I was saying—the instructor picked a book currently rising in the market.” She paused dramatically, like she was about to reveal a plot twist in a telenovela. “Midnight Siren.”

My stomach dropped.

WHAT?!

My blood froze. My vision did that weird tunnel thing. And my heart? It detonated.

That is my book.

That is my anonymous, PG-18, spicy-as-sin book.

The one that was supposed to stay underground, indie, hidden from my actual life.

“Oh my—what the—”

“Anna, the headmistress called you,” Yara said, oblivious to the way my soul just left my body. “And just between us? I think Jasmine’s mad because you got called to discuss the book. Not her.”

“Discuss?” I croaked. Discuss the book? You mean sign my expulsion papers and get escorted off campus by security?

Oh god.

Do they know?

They know.

I shouldn’t have signed that damn deal with my editor. I need to call her. I need to vanish. I need to—

“Anna,” Yara said, narrowing her eyes, “is there something you’re not telling me?”

My mind blanked, but my hands moved on instinct—I grabbed my phone, thumbs trembling over the screen.

“No,” I lied, voice barely a whisper.

Something I’m not telling?

I don’t know, maybe that I’m about to become the first so-called prodigy in HCA history to get expelled for writing an R-rated bestseller under their noses.

Maybe that the book currently causing a full-blown newsroom meltdown is mine.

I needed to breathe. I needed to run. I needed—

“Anna!”

Yara said something else, but her voice faded into the Earth.