"No, that's all. Thank you." I sit up and glance down at my desk. "Where's the agenda for today? Rika always has it on my desk waiting for me."
"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry. I didn't know. Let me print that out for you."
He leaves, shutting the door.
And my phone rings. Will I never get a moment's peace?
I snatch up the phone. "What is it, Noah?"
Maybe I sound a touch irritable. And maybe I should apologize for that, but Noah speaks again.
"Your brother Reese is here to see you."
"Send him in, please."
I hang up the phone and wait for Reese.
He walks through the door, a casual smile on his lips and his eyes bright and clear, unlike mine which are bleary and bloodshot. Not sleeping well doesn't agree with me. My new position at Bonsoir doesn't agree with me. Noah certainly doesn't agree with me.
Rika does. Always.
"What do you want, Reese?" I ask.
He sits down in one of the chairs across the desk from me. "I hear you have a problem with the new packaging. Celeste asked me to talk to you about that."
I groan and let my head fall back against my chair. "Go on, then. Talk to me about it."
Reese sets his ankle on the opposite knee. "What's your bloody problem with the packaging?"
Though his words suggest he's annoyed, his tone of voice contradicts that. He's still smiling too. My cheerful, smiling brother waits for me to respond.
"Well, uh, I..." Now I stammer when I speak to my brother? Christ, I need a tranquilizer or...something. "I don't want my picture on the ruddy box. Or my name on it either."
Reese keeps smiling at me, though he tips his head to the side like he's trying to figure me out. "You didn't complain when Chance's girlfriend promoted you and your devices on her blog."
"That was different. She didn't show my face on the package with the words Dane's Delights printed next to it, and she didn't label me 'the man behind the O's.' She didn't order me to get a girlfriend either."
Reese chuckles. "Celeste told me about that. But you're with Rika now, aren't you? So that's one problem solved." He angles toward me and smirks. "Get Rika to shag your brains out, mate. That'll relieve all your stress."
I clench my jaw. Celeste suggested yesterday that all I need is "one good night in bed with Rika, alone and naked." Now Reese tells me the same thing, as if sex will cure all my problems.
I can't tell either of them Rika and I are only pretending to date.
So I scowl at my brother. "You always claim sex solves everything, but it's not the panacea you say it is. And I do not want my face or my name on the sodding package." I slam my fist down on the desk. "Do you understand, Reese?"
He raises his hands, palms out. "Take it easy, Dane. We'll remove your picture from the package, but I'll have to talk to Celeste about whether we can change the name. She won't agree to Bedroom Buddies, but if you came up with an alternative---"
"Get my name off it, Reese. Now. You're the vice president of advertising, so come up with a new name yourself."
"All right, all right. Let me work on that." Reese stands, then bends over my desk to look me in the eye. "You need a good shag, Dane. Trust me."
My brother leaves my office---while humming cheerfully.
What is wrong with me? I never yell at anyone. Certainly not my brothers. Yet here I am acting like a wounded wild beast, snarling and gnashing my teeth at anyone who gets too close.
I rest my arms on the desk and stare down at the surface. Maybe I do need a good shag, but I can't ask Rika to give me one. She doesn't really want me. She's doing me a favor by acting like my girlfriend.
What have I gotten myself into?
Groaning, rather loudly, I drop my head onto the desktop.
"Are you okay, Mr. Dixon, sir?"
Noah's voice makes me groan again.
I wave a hand in the air but keep my face on the desk. "Fine, thank you."
He doesn't leave, despite my assurance I'm fine. It's a lie, but he doesn't know that. Does he?
"Uh, I have the agenda for today, Mr. Dixon, sir." The shuffling of feet on the carpeting tells me he's moved closer. "Here it is."
I force myself to lift my head, and I see the paper he's set on my desk, just above where my head had been lying. "Thank you, Noah."
He turns to leave.
Groaning yet again, I mutter, "I need to get pissed."
Noah stops halfway to the door, turning toward me. "You're really mad, huh?"
"What? No, not really. I said I want to get pissed."
His eyes flare wide for a split second. "Oh, I get it. Sorry, I don't do that."
"You don't do what?"
He gestures toward his groin with both hands, flapping one hand with his fingers curled like he's cupping his dick. "You know, the golden shower thing. I don't do that."
For a moment, all I can do is stare at him. Then the meaning of his statement hits me like a snowball lobbed at my face.
I growl, and that's not a metaphor or an exaggeration. I literally growl at him. "I don't want you to piss on me. I want to get pissed. Which means I have a strong urge to get drunk."
Not that I think it will help. Can't hurt, can it?
"Oh, sorry," Noah says. "I don't do that either."
I brace my elbows on the desktop and cradle my face in my raised hands. "That will be all, Noah."
His footsteps assure me he's left my office.
After several minutes of sitting here with my head in my hands, I realize what I need. Not sex. I just need to see Rika. Why, I have no bloody idea. But I need it so badly that once I think of the idea, I find myself getting up out of my chair and stalking out to Noah's desk.
"I have a dentist appointment," I say, lying much more convincingly than I'd thought I could. "I'll be back this afternoon."
Noah glances down at his desk calendar, and the corner of his mouth crimps. "I don't see it on the agenda."
"That's because I made the appointment myself on Friday, after Rika left. I forgot to tell you."
"Okay, sure. Have a good dentist appointment."
Does anyone have a good time at the dentist?
I hurry out of the building and drive all the way to Stamford, breaking the speed laws the whole time. I don't get pulled over by a policeman, thankfully. By the time I park in Eddie Masters' driveway, I'm beginning to feel odd about this. What will Rika say when I turn up at her workplace? She'll probably think I've lost my mind.
Which I have.
The door opens seconds after I ring the bell.
A middle-aged woman dressed in a maid's uniform smiles at me. "How may I help you?"
"I'm here to see"---I swallow hard---"my girlfriend, Rika Solberg. She works for Mr. Masters."