Quinn
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to say. "I'll stay, Lachlan. I'll write your memoir. But I have conditions."
A slow smile spread across his face, and he stood up, coming around the desk to stand in front of me. "Name them," he said, his voice a low rumble.
"I want complete creative control," I began, my voice steady. "I want to be able to write the story as I see fit, without interference from you or anyone else."
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "Done. What else?"
"I want access to everything," I continued. "All your records, your files, your personal correspondence. I want to be able to interview anyone I choose, without restriction."
He hesitated for a moment, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. Then, he nodded again. "Agreed. Bu
