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“You know that Dad’s retiring.” I sipped the coffee, which my head demanded after one drink too many while playing fake date to Cassandra.
“Yep. He begged me to come back,” Hunter said.
“I bet he did.” I rolled my eyes at my father’s lack of belief in me. “Anyway, I’m the new office boy.”
He sniffed. “They’ve got you running errands?”
“Not quite. But Heather, she’s the new CFO, is a slave driver.”
“I’ve heard contracts are walking over to Whitman’s,” he said. “Say, weren’t you best buddies?”
“Yeah, well…” I took another sip of coffee and started craving nicotine. I’d only just kicked the habit. “It’s a long, stupid story. I’ve probably managed to win back the Mondaine contract. I just have to come up with a good campaign.”
“You were always creative. I’m sure you can cook something up,” he said, sounding too unfazed by the fact our family company might have to close its doors.
“So what are your thoughts on Elliot’s folding?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Not sure. Companies come and go. It rests with you, Chase.”
I sucked back air. “Shit. I hate all this fucking pressure. And there’s even more.”
“What’s that?”
“I have to get married—in six months. Or I’m out on my ass.” I shook my head.
“Married life is great.” Hunter stared up at his wife, who returned a sunny smile.
“For you guys, sure. You seem happy. I guess I’ll just have to fake it.”
“You mean a fake marriage?” Hunter scrunched his brow.
“Maybe.” I played with my fingers. “I don’t want to get married. Not now. Not…”
“Ever?”
I scratched my jaw. “I don’t know.” I puffed out a breath of frustration. “Can we go through some of these campaigns? Like, give me a quick rundown on best practices?”
“Best practices?” He chuckled. “You’re already sounding like a pro.”
“That’s Ms. Sharp. She keeps using that term. What does it mean?”
“It means what it says,” he said. “Utilizing a formula that delivers good results.”
“Okay, well, can you run your clever brain over these and give me a few pointers?” I asked.
“Sure. Let’s go into my office.”
I slapped him on the back. “Thanks, Hunt, you’re the best.”
After a productive session with my brother, learning about industry jargon and what ropes to pull, I returned to the office. I sat at my large desk and swung the chair around so that I could stare at the tiny strip of sky through the wall of windows.
I scrolled on my phone and discovered another message from Ivy—along with a new picture of her in that lime teddy. My balls tightened. This girl was out to make me do something uncouth, like jerk off in my office. She’d pulled a silly face, which only made her hotter. Despite her perky tits and nipples pressing teasingly against the lace and her legs parted seductively, it was her smiling come-to-bed eyes that captivated me the most.
I decided to call her.
“Hey. Nice photo,” I said.
“Is that why you called?” she asked.
