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“You’ve said all you need to say, Mr. Myles.”
“Would you, for the love of all that is good, stop calling me that,” I growled.
“Like I said,” she continued. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that we could never be more than an office fling. So, I suggest you go dazzle some floozies with your riches to get what you’re looking for tonight.”
She glared up at me, her eyes ablaze. “And stop calling me bunny. It’s inappropriate.”
Oh, now it’s inappropriate. It wasn’t inappropriate when I had her panting out my name last week in this very elevator.
Another low growl escaped me. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I didn’t need anyone but Quinn Miller. I turned just as the doors slid open.
“There you are!” My younger sister’s overly expressive arms grabbed me and pushed me toward the ballroom doors. “People are getting antsy, brother. Go, do the thing. Do the thing,” she squealed.
She took Quinn’s arm into hers and led her behind me. They were immediately followed by my two best bodyguards, Jax and Drayven.
The duo moved so silently that they went unnoticed—though their sheer size alone would make anyone reconsider taking even one look at my sister and her best friend.
“He can be such a party pooper sometimes,” Lucy whispered to Quinn. “You probably know better than anyone. You’ve worked for him longer than any assistant of his I’ve known.”
I looked back at Quinn to see her awkwardly push her hair behind her ear and nod in silent agreement. I rolled my eyes.
Lucy is the reason Quinn worked for my company in the first place. They met freshman year of college, and both graduated from Stanford, ready to take over the world.
My sister had a guaranteed position at any of my family’s companies, but Quinn had trouble finding work in a sea of recent grads.
So, Lucy being Lucy, set her up with an interview with HR here at Globelink Securities, the top private security firm in over 120 countries—my father’s baby.
The only thing he loved more than Globelink was my younger sister. The apple of his eye.
When Quinn interviewed for the position, she didn’t know that the job was for an executive assistant position with the company’s newly appointed CEO.
“The man of the hour has arrived!” A voice boomed from the loudspeakers, and all the guests turned, lifted their glasses, and cheered in our direction.
There had to be at least a few thousand people gathered. Thanks to my insistent parents inviting every Fortune 500 executive, hedge fund manager, and business tycoon they knew—a league that would never turn down a New Year’s Eve bash.
“Everyone must know we are always on top of the game,”my father would arrogantly say to the Globelink execs in preparation for the yearly event.
So, all charity, or perceived charity, was always to buy the admiration of his societal peers—and tax write-offs, of course.
I hated every second of it. And yet, there I was. Next in line to show off the Myles family fortune.
On tonight’s agenda was an obnoxiously-sized check with the number ‘$20 million’ etched across it and the name of a well-known global hunger charity in the ‘Pay to the order of’ field.
It would be held up by two models wearing barely-there dresses and blowing kisses to the crowd, followed by confetti cannons and some form of pyrotechnics from the stage.
Louis, my event coordinator, approached me with a mic and an earpiece for direction.
“Showtime, Mist—uh, Weston,” he said, passing me the items. I instructed everyone I spoke to regularly to call me by my first name.
I seriously hate my life.
I grabbed the mic and made my way to the stage, putting in the earpiece just as the music died down.Lucy and Quinn halted at the bottom of the steps.
Jax and Drayven stood like brick walls just a few feet behind them as I had instructed them to do.Be like body armor, I’d said.
The crowd’s chattiness died down.
“Welcome friends, family, and partners of Globelink Securities,” I started.
