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And the pendant, too.
The one I’d get from Zach, no matter what.
Dad wanted me to have everything he cherished, because he knew I’d keep it close to my heart. Keep his memory safe.
“You little idiot.” She raised her hand. I flinched, anticipating her strike. Instead, her grin widened as she pretended to wipe something off my shoulder. “You will never take me and my girls down.”
With that, she stalked off.
Brett Conner was one of the least palatable people I’d ever encountered.
A truly grotesque testament of his character, considering I found the gross majority of my peers unworthy of oxygen.
Unfortunately, Brett Junior was the COO of a company I intended to acquire. Dot Cum. An up-and-coming NSFW social media platform with a search growth above 4900% and eighteen million active users per month, a figure growing by the minute.
You could say Brett Senior’s love for pussy was both his blessing and his curse. It had earned him a company worth over three billion dollars… but also a son whose sole contribution to society was keeping niche designer boutiques afloat.
“Hey.” Brett Junior plowed into my house, wearing neon Prada sunglasses and a gold Gucci tracksuit. “Yo, O.C., my man.”
O.C.
As in: Orange Chicken.
Truly, that he managed to survive his twenties without being stabbed in the face by a steak knife could only be considered a miracle.
He raised his fist for a bump, his signature idiotic grin the only indication of cognitive function. “Brought some champagne made in Italy. The real stuff.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him he was wrong.
Frankly, I did not have a heart at all.
Had I possessed such an organ, I surely wouldn’t spend one beat of it on this man.
Tragically, it also seemed like my pulse would not be affected by Miss Eileen Yang, who had spent the last couple dates sending me real estate links in Shanghai.
She’d already proved to be a headache.
Brett Senior trailed behind the disappointing byproduct of his sperm, followed by Dot Cum’s head of accounting, some suit named Jasper.
When I ignored his fist bump, Junior swaggered past the Guan Yu statue in my foyer, arms spread for a bro-hug.
I sidestepped him as he launched himself at me, causing him to collapse onto my floor.
“Ew.” He cupped his balls, still face-down. “Why’d you do that?”
“Not big on hugs.” I used the tip of my shoe to turn him over so he laid on his back. “Do not drool on my floor. My cleaner doesn’t need any extra work. And for future reference, do not call me Orange Chicken, unless you are prepared for me to call you Unpurposed Flour.”
Junior rubbed his knee, frowning at me. “Flour? But I’m not even Floyd.”
I closed my eyes, drawing a breath.
Senior winced, bowing his head and reaching out for a shake before remembering I didn’t do those. He slipped his hand back into his pocket.
“My apologies, Mr. Sun. My son is quite… overwhelmed with his corporate role.” He took off his hat, smoothing back white tufts of hair. “I suspect you’ll be making a few changes in management if this deal goes through?”
I turned my back on all three of them, heading toward the dining area. “I’ll be appointing my own team.”
I’d opted for a quiet home dinner rather than an official meeting. The data I needed—viable numbers, annual revenue, expenses, and net income—already sat in a vault inside my head.
