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“No, don’t get me wrong. She’s a great girl and a wonderful assistant, but she accepted that job more to spite you than because she really likes it. She’s always serious, never leaves the house…and she manages my life almost obsessively. Imagine organizing my sock drawer by shades of color. She’s crazy!”
His words take my breath away like a punch in the stomach. Why was she in his room rearranging his things? When did she go from my bed to his? Or was she with him first? Apparently, it runs in the family—laying hands on the only woman my blood boils for.
“I knew it,” I hiss between my teeth. “I knew you hired her just to take her to bed.” I slam my spoon down on the table and ball up my napkin with my fist to keep from punching him.
He’s dead wrong if he thinks a public place will keep me from smashing his face in. I don’t care how many important people are here, or that the paparazzi will take five minutes to arrive and plaster my face all over the internet while I beat my brother to a pulp. If he touched her or even thought about it, I swear he won’t get out of this room alive.
The anger that mounts inside me is uncontrollable. “Did you fuck her before or after she fucked me? Is that why you don’t want her to come back to New York? Christ, you couldn’t miss this chance to rub it in my face, could you?” I hiss with anger, struggling not to attract the attention of the people around us.
“Are you done acting like a child?” he asks, continuing to eat as if nothing had happened. I hate when he does that. I hate him when he looks so casual and condescending. I don’t know if it’s the six-year age difference or just our personalities, but I can’t stand it when he treats me like I’m still the little brother who followed him around when he was a teenager.
“You’re a pig. Of all the women you could have, you had to choose her?”
“You’re behaving like an idiot.” He smiles amusedly, making my blood boil.
“Seriously?”
“I didn’t have sex with her.”
“What was she doing in your room?”
“I don’t know, she brought over some documents I needed, and I wasn’t even at home. Now I’m regretting leaving her a key.”
I back down, annoyed, but I believe he’s telling the truth. “Oh,” I mumble.
He wanted to lure me into a trap, to get a reaction from me by talking about her, and I fell into it with both feet. How do I not notice when he leads me right where he wants me? Maybe Emily didn’t tell him anything, and he wants to feel me out to see if we’ve cleared things up.
“Anyway, take her back. I can’t stand her being there anymore.” He seems exasperated by her presence, and I’m enjoying it.
“She doesn’t want to come back.” It’s not speculation. It’s a fact. I begged her, and she said no. End of story.
“I know. I fired her, and she came to work anyway, saying it doesn’t matter what I say, that I gave her that job, and she’ll keep it.” He looks scandalized, shocked at her audacity.
A smile escapes my lips. I can picture her not giving a damn about the dismissal letter and continuing to work like nothing had happened.
“Sounds like Emily,” I say as I go back to eating my soup.
“Yes.”
“You won’t be able to get rid of her unless she decides to leave.”
“I was afraid you’d tell me something like that,” he grumbles before returning to his meal.
Emily’s like that, I’ve learned the hard way. If you tell her to do something, she doesn’t do it. Not even if you beg. She has to be convinced and make the decision herself, knowing in her heart that it’s the right one. She decided that I don’t need her, and I don’t know how to make her understand that she’s wrong. Without her, I’m drowning.
“Coffee as black as your soul, no sugar, and a splash of fear from the teenager behind the counter when I told him it was for you. Have you terrified all the wait staff from here to Burbank? When I drop your name, they turn white with panic.” I hand the coffee to Aaron, who is already seated and working at his desk.
Since returning from New York a week ago, he seems to arrive even earlier in the morning, even though he’s always here before anyone else.
He picks up the cup with a smug smile. I think he enjoys terrifying people. “I like people who are good at their job, and I don’t mind pointing it out when I see something that’s done wrong.”
“Pointing it out, or making them do it over and over until their hands bleed?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Whichever gets the best results.” A diabolical grin appears behind the paper cup.
“Sooner or later, someone is going to poison your coffee.”
He shrugs. “I’ll survive.”
