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“Hey.”
“Hi,” I reply.
Crew appears unsure what to say next.
“I’ve got a meeting. I’ll see you at lunch,” Asher says. He glances at me. “Have fun in Vegas, man.”
“Thanks.”
Crew is whispering something to Scarlett that makes her smile and shake her head.
They look like a happy, normal couple, with no trace of the stress that was on display last night.
Crew and I share the same parents and the same upbringing. Yet Crew somehow managed to do what has always felt impossible for me.
He let someone in.
I always expect the worst from people. Often, they deliver. They try to use me for my money or my name. My connections or my favor. When you’re always looking for duplicity, it’s easy to spot.
But I don’t think there’s anything Scarlett could do that Crew wouldn’t forgive. He fought for her even when evidence was damning. I’ve never been able to figure out where that confidence came from. I’ve never experienced that surety.
“I have to get to a meeting.” Scarlett smiles, pats Crew’s chest, then glances at me. “Have a good trip, Oliver.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
I’m expecting Crew to follow Scarlett over to the elevators, but he remains by my side after giving her a quick kiss goodbye.
“He wants a Thompson & Thompson update.”
When I glance over, Crew is staring straight ahead. Everything about his body language is now uncomfortable—his tensed shoulders and tightened jaw and rigid arms. We both know where arguing with Arthur Kensington leads—nowhere.
“It’ll go through.”
“I told him to ask you himself.”
“And here you are, asking.” I sigh when Crew manages to look even stiffer. I wish he’d stop trying to bridge the divide between me and our father. The outcome never changes. “It’s my shit, Crew. I’ll deal with it. And I’ll have someone from the team contact you if it’s finalized while I’m out of town, so you can tell him.”
I catch Crew’s nod before I continue down the hallway toward my office. My secretary, Alicia, is missing from her desk, so I make a mental note to tell her to have Crew cc’d on all the Thompson & Thompson emails going forward. He can break the happy news to dear old dad once the deal is done.
Predictably, emails piled up during what I planned on being a brief water break. I sift through everything unread. Approve three proposals and draft a memo. Answer two phone calls, and then realize I have to leave if I’m going to make my flight.
My luggage sits in the corner of my office, piled neatly next to the leather couch. I’m flying commercial to Vegas since my father has the company jet reserved. I have no idea where he’s flying or why. He might have placed a permanent hold just to keep me from using it.
I’m sliding a few packets of papers that I’m planning to review on the plane into my briefcase when there’s a firm knock on my door.
“Come in,” I call.
I glance up, expecting Alicia, but Crew is the one who walks in. Twice in one day with no meetings together is practically a record. He shuts the door behind him and strolls toward my desk, hands deep in his pockets.
“Shouldn’t you be on your way to sin city by now?” he asks, pausing to spin the giant metal globe that sits next to the bookcase before continuing toward my desk.
“I’m about to leave.”
He glances at the papers I’m holding. “Don’t forget to pack a few weeks’ worth of work for your Vegas weekend.”
“I’m not packing much,” I lie, quickly shutting the briefcase.
Crew’s grin is knowing. “Uh-huh. Celeste has been camped out in the copy room with Alicia all morning, making sure you have the latest Isaac Industries report along with everything else you requested.”
