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I hit print on the picture, and as soon as my printer spit it out, I snagged
the page and popped up from my chair to leave the office. Seconds later, I was knocking on Brick’s door.
The walls were made of glass so I could surmise through the window-blind slats that he had company, but I paid no attention to who it was as I opened the door and entered.
Pausing when I saw Ezra Nash—Lana’s co-CEO of JFI as well as my direct supervisor—and a kneeling Kaitlynn in the room, I arched a brow at Brick’s hand, which was on top of Kaitlynn’s head as if he’d just pushed her down there.
My brother huffed out a relieved breath. “Oh,” he said, removing his hand from her head. “It’s you.”
Kaitlynn scowled at him as she surged upright and dusted her knees off.
No idea what that was about, but with Brick involved, it could be anything.
I shrugged it off and held up the printout, demanding, “Who really came up with this shoe design?”
Brick sniffed, acting innocent. “What’re you talking about? I told you in the email. I did.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes as I answered, “And I know when you lie, Broderick. You didn’t make this.”
“Yes…” Brick stepped closer, widening his eyes as if trying to convince me with his big-eyed stare. “I did.”
Lord, he would never grow up, would he?
“No. You didn’t. And what the hell is Kaitlynn doing in your office?” I glanced toward Nash with slightly narrowed eyes but didn’t question his presence. He actually worked on this floor and was Brick’s direct supervisor, while Kaitlynn’s office was in the basement, and she worked under Lana.
“Oh!” Brick brightened, flashing me a grin. “I hired her as my secretary after our dear mother fired her.”
Wait. What?
“Lana fired her?” I repeated incredulously.
Why was this news to me? I was usually privy to every nasty thing Lana did against Kaitlynn. Shit, had I lost my trusted status with her? If she went rogue and relieved Kaitlynn of her volunteer duties without bragging about it to me first, what else had she done that I wasn’t aware of?
Brick wrinkled his nose. “You call her Lana?”
What?
I shook my head and sent my brother an odd look. “Of course. What do you call her?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Mother?”
“Hmm.” Pass. I motioned vaguely toward Kaitlynn. “Does Lana know she’s working for you now?”
“Not yet. Not that I’m aware of, anyway.” Brick leaned against his desk. “Did you know Mother never paid her?”
“Of course.” I scowled, wondering how Brick didn't know that already, and I settled my gaze on Kaitlynn. I always grew uncomfortable standing in her presence; what if she looked at me and could tell how much I’d done for her? What would she think of it? Would she take it the wrong way? I honestly never wanted her to find out. It was frankly embarrassing.
“Since you’re not aware if she knows,” I went on, talking to my brother as I frowned at my stepsister, “then I’m sure Mother doesn’t know yet. Just warn me the second she finds out. I’d like to be out of the country that day.”
Brick yawned. “Whatever. She doesn’t intimidate me.”
With a snort—because that was about the biggest pile of horseshit I’d ever heard—I lifted the design, getting back on track. “So who really drew this?”
Brick frowned. “Why don’t you believe I did?”
“Because I’ve known you your entire life,” I said, “and I can tell when you’re lying. You did not make this design.”
Across the room, Ezra—who’d yet to say a single thing since I had walked in—leaned toward Kaitlynn and murmured something in her ear.
