He’s my age. Hmm.
Even through his suit, I can tell his body is chiseled to perfection, and a wave of heat rolls through my core.
“How tall is your brother?”
“I think six-five, maybe six-six,” Quinn replies.
I lick my lips and try to stop the drool from coming out of my mouth.
“He has really big feet,” I mutter, not realizing I said it aloud until Quinn says, “Fourteens. He grew out of shoes so fast, his toe was always sticking out before my mom could afford to get him a new pair.”
Big feet, big hands. I swallow hard and reach up to turn the knob above my seat so the air conditioner blows on me.
He’s probably married to a trophy wife with twelve kids and a white picket fence.
Hope screams as the plane takes off.
Quinn puts the phone in my hand and turns. She holds out her hands. “Come here, sweetie.”
Usually, I can’t pay attention to anything except Hope when she’s around me.
But I spend the entire flight with Steven Sinclair in my mind.
2
Steven
Quinn’s name pops up on my phone. I instantly panic. “Quinn, everything okay?” It’s only six in the morning. I’ve already worked out and showered. I’m in the middle of making my smoothie before heading to the office. It’s a routine I’ve been religious about for the last twelve years. I find I get more work done when no one else is in the office and I’m not constantly interrupted by calls.
“Ummm, you’ve been holding out on me,” my sister’s voice chirps, and my insides calm down.
“What are you talking about?”
Hope belts out a wail.
“Hold on. Shhh. It’s okay. Mama has you.”
“Give her to me,” Jamison says.
“Morning,” I say.
“Steven, I didn’t know you were on the line. I just got out of the shower. Congratulations. That’s a huge accomplishment.”
“What are you talking about?”
Quinn’s voice drops. “Did you not look at the paper this morning?”
“Not yet. I just finished getting ready. Why? What’s wrong?”
“Why does something always have to be wrong?” Quinn asks.
“Quinn, I’ve gotta get moving here. I have a lot to do so I can enjoy the festivities and not deal with bs all weekend. What are you referring to?”
“My big brother is Mr. National Bigshot!” she boasts.
“I’m confused about this conversation. Jamison, can you translate in English, please?”
Quinn laughs.
Jamison booms, “Steven, you made the list.”
“What list?”
“The kick ass and take names list!” my sister brags.
“Quinn,” I groan, still clueless about what is happening in this conversation.
“You’re one of Marquis’s Top Ten Under Forty Professionals.”
My mouth goes dry, and my heart races. “Are you serious?” I put the phone on speaker and pull up Marquis’s website. A picture of a brain with ten thought boxes above it and photos of all the ten professionals fill them. One of them has my photo from the company website.
“Did you seriously not know?” Quinn asks.
“I had no idea.” I scroll through the article, which has a page on each of us. There is a full-body picture of me from work, along with basic information and things my co-workers said about me. I quickly scan some of the comments on the, “What’s Steven like?” question.
“Scheduled like a superhuman.”
“Puts in more hours than anyone else in the company.”
“The first to arrive and the last to leave.”
“Very professional.”
“Super helpful guy.”
“A great boss. Very fair.”
“Very motivated by numbers.”
Motivated by numbers? I sound like a complete bore.
You are a complete bore.
Hope cries out again.
“I have to feed Hope. I’ll see you tonight, Mr. National Bigshot,” Quinn teases.
I groan. “Please do not call me that all weekend.”
“Hey, it’s not every day I get to brag about you.”
“Yeah, you’re normally complaining about me,” I mutter and read another comment.
“Extremely serious.”
“Doesn’t ever discuss personal things, so he’s super mysterious,” someone whose name I don’t even recognize is quoted.
My gut flips again. This is so embarrassing. Now the entire world knows what an uninteresting loser I am.
“Congrats again. See you tonight,” Jamison says.
“Safe travels.” I hang up and read the rest of the article and information on the other nine people, and I’m further mortified.
Every other candidate has words like fun, interesting, spontaneous, loves adventure, super creative, exciting, engaging personality, charismatic, and charming.
I put my phone in my pocket, hit the button on the blender, create my smoothie, then throw it in a to-go cup. I sling my laptop bag over my shoulder and head out the door.
My driver is waiting on the curb, like every day.
Just another scheduled part of your life.
“Congratulations, Mr. Sinclair. What a huge accomplishment,” Ted says.
Heat creeps up my neck. “Thanks.” I get into the car to avoid any further conversation about my award, and my phone rings. I remove it from my pocket and hit the button without looking at it. “Quinn—”
“Steven, congratulations.” His voice makes the hairs on my arms stand up.
“Maximillion, what do you want?”
“Is that any way to greet your father?”
My blood boils. Every time he mentions the truth of who he is, all I feel is the same rage as the day I found out and punched the wall in my bedroom.
“Don’t you mean sperm donor?”
“Forget who got you the position in the company you run?”
Asshole.
“Sorry, did you want to put Quinn and me on your family photo during your next campaign run?”
Like all polished politicians, he slides into the next topic. “Huge weekend for you and Quinn. It looks like you’re both moving up in the world.”
“Excuse me?”
“Quinn hooked a billionaire. She can’t do better than that. And now you’re nationally recognized. This is a good step forward.”
The anger bubbles. “Is there a purpose for this call?”
“I’m calling in my favor.”
“Your favor?”
He snorts. “Tell me you didn’t get on the list and are daft?”
I close my eyes and try to calm my building fury. My chest tightens, and the air becomes thicker in my lungs. “I owe you nothing.”
“But you do. And what’s given can be taken away. Did you forget my position in this world?”
Silence.
“My new campaign is around the corner.”
I scoff. “And why do I care?”
“I need a finance manager for the upcoming election. Your national recognition will be good for it. I’ve decided I’m going to give you the position.”