"Wait a minute," Jordan turned his eyes to me. "What does she mean by that? The writer too? But you're the writer..." he said, puzzled.
"I am. But, um, more like a ghostwriter," I said.
His frown deepened. "What? When did that happen?"
"When I got my job back. They didn't want my name there because of all the attention I was getting from the media."
"What? Why?"
"Because—"
"Because you're my girlfriend?!" he looked appalled. "And you're okay with this? Someone else taking the credit for your efforts?"
"It's the least of that which concerns me."
"But it's your work, Rose," he argued. "Don't you want people to know that it's your work? That you've written it? Isn't that what's going to help build your credibility as a writer?"
"That's not important. The important thing is that I'm getting my cut from it. That's all that matters for now."
