“You’re a wise man, keeping a low profile. You don’t end up on trashy rumor blogs that way. I should start dressing like a sea captain too. Great disguise. I’d get a cool hat like yours, too.”
Halle goes quiet again, his pale-blue eyes fixed on the road.
“Ah, who’m I kidding? Call me depraved, but I like the attention,” I say coldly. “The spotlight’s as drawn to me as I am to it. Nothing like an earthquake or two to shake things up in this cold-ass city. Don’t you ever want to shake things up, man?”
I lean forward, waiting for his answer.
He gives me nothing.
Fucking Bat-man.
I bite back an amused grin.
Before I can throw any more crap at him, great sport that he is, my phone pings with the day’s twentieth email. I scan over Ward’s latest threat to string me up by my balls if I don’t have a supplier by the end of the day for the glass palace Jorge wants to plop in downtown Chicago, and start typing furiously.
By the time I look up, Halle’s pulling up to Brandt Ideas, and I rush off to my next meeting.
Move your ass. I hate these things as much as you do, but I’m here.
I’m sitting in my penthouse, trying to unwind and thinking how much I want to get laid tonight, when the text from my big brother hits me.
Oh, shit. I forgot. I grab my phone and reply, I’m there in spirit.
Ward: You’re not here, Nick. I am. Like always.
Bull. He gives himself too much credit.
My grandmother always loved these things more than anyone else. “For our greatest assets—our employees,” she says.
Which actually means a little quarterly dog-and-pony show where we show up and gush about how much we love our team. The people are great. Don’t get me wrong.
It’s a morale booster, but I wonder how much more folks would like it if we just sent them home early with tequila? If the goddamned legal department would let us.
I hate these stupid company-wide socials just as much as you. Why does Grandma make us do them again? I text back.
Ward: The employees like them. Get over here. How is it I’m the office snob and you’re the fun one when you skip everything you can?
I snort and send back, Because I’m better looking, Wart.
Ha. The next text doesn’t come immediately so that must have shut him up for a while.
He’s right. I do need to get to the office. My brother doesn’t scare me, but Grandma will have my ass on a silver platter if I don’t show up to her tea party.
Whatever. At least the food’s usually good when we spend a small fortune pampering the people who keep our creations rising like pyramids.
I text Halle. I need a ride to the office.
I’m putting on my tie when his reply comes. Sorry. No can do. I’m already at the office and Mrs. Brandt doesn’t want me to leave.
Damn it, Grandma. She ordered me there, then told the driver not to pick me up?
My options are drive myself and waste an hour in traffic or walk. I glance out the window. A late winter storm whistles, sending white flakes cascading from the sky, turning the cityscape into a shaken snow globe.
Walking is out, and that’s fine.
I’ll just drive, which means, after looking for a parking spot, I’ll get there later. Probably much later.
Yeah, I’m going to get hell for this, but I might as well be prepared for it.
I don’t like hanging out with random strangers. I know the people who work on my floor but not very well really beyond that. Most of the folks outside the executive team who think they know me get their impressions from the usual gossip blogs and clucking online tabloids.
Hanging around people who expect me to bomb the party gets awkward, and unlike my grandmother, I don’t see what it accomplishes.
Besides, I’ve been on Grandma’s shitlist so many times, my name might as well be etched on her toilet paper.
An hour later, I stagger in and sit at a round table, sandwiched between Grandma and Ward.
I take a bite of the best salami pizza ever when a pixie at the table in front of us stands. I’ve never seen her before.
Caramel-dark hair, chopped into short curls just below her ears.
The black silk of her dress trails behind her, hugging a grippable ass that makes my palm ache. She damn near floats.
I can’t see her face from here, but from the way the dress outlines her hourglass shape—obvious even with the denim jacket hanging over it—I want to.
“You home?” Ward waves a hand in front of my face, two fingers together, threatening to flick me between the eyes. “Wake up.”
I shake my head. Why wouldn’t I be okay?
That’s when I realize my pizza stopped at my lips. I took a bite and never moved my hand after I got distracted by the mystery woman.
“Who’s she?” I ask, dropping the slice on my plate like it’s turned into cardboard.
Ward follows my eyes with an annoyed look, then meets my gaze with a quipped brow.
Grandma’s eyes trail to the table in front of us. She slaps my knee under the table.
“First of all, stop gawking,” she whispers. “You can’t be serious. You see that lovely young woman every day and you don’t recognize her? You have her number, Nicholas. You used it tonight.” I blink at her as she pushes a hand across her face. “God help me, I’m starting to believe The Chicago Tea.”
I roll my eyes. “Never believe a sewage pipe that gives fake news a bad name. Now, who is she?”
“I believe it because you see her every day and have to ask. Although, I agree her work attire doesn’t entirely suit her.”
Who? Doesn’t suit who?
I feel like I’m in a psychological thriller or something.
“Yeah, no. If I’d seen that sweet dream, I’d remember.” No question about it. I’d probably put in my two weeks’ notice so I could lure her to my bed, guilt-free. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be a bed.
A quickie in the coat closet, the elevator, or the back of a car would do me just fine.
“She drives you around every day, you dolt,” Ward snaps.
I hear the words, but they don’t compute.
Is this some sick joke? But they look so serious.
Fuck, maybe I should see a shrink.
Because I’m pretty sure all I’ve ever had driving me around is that mute, Halle.
“No way. You’re wrong, Ward. Since when did we hire two drivers?” And how do I get in the back of this one’s car? Why am I always stuck with Halle the superspy while this beauty queen hauls my brother around?
“We have one driver, dear.” Grandma sighs, pulling at a strand of her silver hair.
“What? I don’t—I—she’s never driven me, okay? I’ve just had Halle carting me around for over a month,” I growl.
Hell, Grandma probably arranged for him so she wouldn’t have to worry about me causing an incident with Miss Mysterio and HR.
Grandma and Ward both stare at me like I’ve sprouted a twin head.
“What?” I snap off. “Guys, you’re freaking me out. Just tell me how I get her to pick me up. It’s not fair that I’m stuck with Halle. If there’s another driver, I should know her.”
Ward cracks first. He actually laughs—a full-throated belly chuckle. Rare for a man who could stand in for a sleep-deprived grizzly bear.