Brin’s head lifts as he slides a smug smile through the open door. “Is Whit being a twat?” he asks, looking right at me.
Me? I just stare back.
“You say that differently.”
Mimi’s comment brings Brin’s attention sliding back. “Because you lot say it wrong.”
“And you’re just a tease.”
My stomach turns to a lump of fucking concrete. Is she flirting with him?
“Am I?” Brin asks with a chuckle I think I might ram down the back of his throat. With my fist.
“Well, yeah. Unless one of thoseisn’tfor me.”
I try to concentrate on my laptop screen again, but no deal. My attention slides back to Brin and I watch as he glances down to the takeaway cups he seems surprised to find in his hands.
“Sorry.” He passes one over with a shy grin. “This one is for you.”
It’s the Amelia effect. She dazzles everyone. At the investor meeting last week, we had the usual array of sharp brains, straight-talking titans of industry, and the mega- wealthy, yet a number of them sat like starstruck schoolboys, gazing up at her as though she’d offered them the moon, not the standard coffee and pastries. It’s just her way. She has this knack for treating everyone like they’re the sole focus of her attention. She knows everyone’s fucking name, and according to security, she’s been feeding half her lunch to the homeless bloke who’s often camped outside the building. Helena from HR called and asked me what I wanted to do about it. As a company, we do our bit for charity and even sponsor a local homeless shelter, but no financial institution wants a symbol of poverty sitting on their doorstep.
That said, I told Helena to leave it. What kind of a bastard tells someone to knock off being charitable?
“You, Brin Whittington, are a prince among men.” Delight seeps into Mimi’s tone. It’s just her way. She even had Olivia Beckett eating out of her hand, which annoyed me no end because Olivia has a way of making me feel like I’m still wet behind the ears.
“Mmm. That issogood.”
That issounfair. Why didn’t I think to bring her coffee? Then I’d be the one watching her expression. She looks so lovely when she’s enjoying herself, all languid eyed and blissed out. Not for the first time today, I find myself adjusting my swelling dick.
“Are you okay?” Mimi’s voice turns concerned, and my brother clears his throat.
“Sorry. I must’ve spaced out for a minute.”
I bet you did, you filthy fucker. I force my attention back to the screen, but the numbers might as well be hieroglyphics.
“Thank you for this. I really needed it.”
“No problem.” Brin’s reply sounds a little strangled. The fucking Amelia effect. Blessedly, she walks with her head in the clouds or else she might see what she does to men. “The place around the corner has the best coffee. Small batch freshly roasted. Have you been yet?”
“I can’t say I’ve come across it.”
My fingers splay out on the keys while, in my mind’s eye, Mimi earnestly shakes her head. I hope Brins gets fucking priapism.
“Where is it, did you say?”
And there it is. His way in. Bad enough that El thinks he’s taking her to dinner next week.Thinkbeing the operative word. I’ll just get Polly to throw a spanner in those potentially dirty works if I know El.
“Why don’t I take you for lunch there Monday?” the little shit offers. “They do the best canelés,” he adds, not giving her the opportunity to brush him off gently.
“Cannolis?”
“No.” He gives a soft laugh. “Canelés,” he says, pretending he’s a native Parisienne. Brin doesn’t speak a word of French, so unless he’s about to sing herJoyeux Anniversaire—happy birthday in French—I think he’s about done. “They’re, like, these delicious little cakes.” He flicks out his hand as though holding one. Like she’s eating out of it.
“Oh, I love cake.”
“Yeah?” The fucker sounds turned on.She said cake, not cock. “These have this crispy, rum-glazed crust and soft, fluffy custard inside.”
“Stop,” she half moans, which I do not like. I don’t have a problem with the sound; it’s more the fact she’s moaning in front of that arsewipe. I feel antsy. Like my skin is a size too small. Irrational is what it is—Mimi is my PA. The little sister of my dead mate. I knew her when she wore braces, for fuck’s sake. There’s no call to give in to these feelings because I’m not a horny teenager.
