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“Callie it is,” he says.
Sean pats him on the shoulder. “Get to accounting, Declan. People are waiting on you.”
“Right.” He turns his attention to his brother. “I’m having lunch brought in for us. Be in my office at one, so we can go over projections for next quarter.”
“Yes, sir.” Sean laughs.
Shaking his head, Declan chuckles as he walks away.
Sean looks at me. “All right, Calliope. You’re about to get the grand tour of Wells. Try and keep up.”
“It’s Callie,” I say as I fall in step beside him as he takes off toward the bank of elevators.
His focus stays straight ahead. “I prefer Calliope.”
“I don’t,” I counter.
He looks down at me as he slows to a stop before stabbing a finger into the elevator call button. “We expect a hell of a lot from every one of our employees. My brother is a hard-ass when it comes to the small details. That means you need to be on time every day. You start work at nine. Your workday ends at six. My driver has my car at the curb in front of our building at precisely eight forty every morning. Starting tomorrow, we ride to the office together.”
Stunned, I follow him onto the elevator when the doors open. “What? I take the subway to work.”
“Not anymore.” He presses the button for the floor below us. “I’ve seen how disorganized you are in the mornings, Champ. Be on the sidewalk in front of our building by eight forty, and I’ll get you here on time. You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t say thank you,” I mutter.
As the doors start to slide shut, he chuckles. “You will.”
I don’t ask what the hell that means because I feel as though I’m caught between a dream and a nightmare.
This job is everything I could have wanted, but the man standing next to me is at the very least partially responsible for my future with this company.
I have to get along with him if I want to hold onto this job.
Right now, that feels like an impossible task.
Chapter Ten
Sean
“I’m impressed, Sean.”
I don’t hear those words every day.
I turn to see my brother enter his office. As expected, he shuts the door behind him.
I’ve already helped myself to one of the two meatball sandwiches tempting me from a paper bag on his desk.
He knows what I like.
These sandwiches, complete with the sodas on the side, capture one of the best memories from when we were kids.
We grew up surrounded by wealth. Our grandfather on our mother’s side was one of the wealthiest men in the country.
Our father was just as fortunate. Even though he had a trust fund, he worked his way through college so he could land a job at one of the city’s museums as a curator. His parents scoffed at the choice, but my dad loves art, and that job was his dream.
He’d take Declan and me to a diner for lunch every Saturday. Meatball sandwiches and sodas were always on the menu. All we had to do was finish our portion and agree not to tell our mom what we had for lunch.
She didn’t approve of the menu choice or the diner.
