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“Wow, what a nice gesture. Especially coming from my big bro,” he croons, his tone emotionless. I can practically hear his shit-eating grin through the phone. Hell, I’m pretty sure Elliot doesn't even know how to show emotions. He’s always been as cold as a stone statue.
“Seriously, what do you want? I’m working right now,” I huff, running my hand over the dark stubble on my cheeks.
“At a job site? Have you seen the weather report? They’re calling for scattered thunderstorms all around the metroplex.”
“It’s part of the job, Elliot,” I sigh. “We’ve been out here all day, but we do need to pack up and get out of here before the storm hits. I need to help the guys load the truck, so please make this quick,” I respond in a less-than-enthusiastic tone.
“You know… I could land you a job at Ace Financial. Gone would be the days of playing in the dirt for money,” he jabs. “I could get you a big boy job, Ev. I mean, my fiancéisa recruiter for the bank,” he reminds me, as if I didn’t already know that. As if I would ever take a job fromher.
Over my dead body.
Elliot says shit like that all the time to get under my skin. And every fucking time, it works. He knows that I make a damn good living for myself. I can easily make more money on one job than he makes in an entire month, and he knows it too. Even though he has a prestigious corporate job that he devotes his life to, he can’t stand the fact that I own a successful business.
Elliot’s attempt to downplay my career should be what pisses me off the most, but it’s not. It’s the mention of his fiancé.
Skylar Wood.
The fact that she’s about to become Skylar Thompson causes me to feel conflicted to say the least. The thought of her havingmylast name makes me feel satisfied in a possessive way. Any last name attached to Skylar other than Thompson causes my blood to simmer in my veins.
I get pissed off if I think about it for too long because the reason she’s inheriting the family name is that she's marrying my brother. A man that can never give her what she needs. A man that has royally screwed over anyone who’s ever cared about him in his thirty-one years of life. Isn’t marriage supposed to be a sacred vow? A vow to be faithful, to stick by your partner's side through thick and thin, through sickness and health? Elliot doesn't know the first thing about commitment and loyalty.
Anyone who knows Skylar can clearly see that she deserves so much more than what Elliot is capable of giving her. But then again, she’s an adult and can make her own decisions.
She did make her decision,I remind myself.
Three years ago, she decided to walk away from someone who would have given her the fucking world. She made her own bed, so she can sleep in it. Let’s just hope she’s aware of who else has been in between those sheets.
“It’s funny that you think any amount of money would persuade me to work in a glass box, wear a cheap suit, and kiss the ass of every arrogant son of a bitch just to climb a corporate ladder. Thanks, but no thanks,” I scoff.
“Yeah, because you'resooomuch better than me, Everett,” Elliot mocks, a conceited chuckle vibrating through the phone.
“Elliot, for the last time… What the hell do you want?” I ask, exhaling a deep breath.
“So, you know how everyone’s traveling to Colorado for Vivian’s wedding?” He asks, as if I could forget my cousin’s wedding is next week.
“Yeah…” I respond, confused about where this conversation is going.
“Skylar is going to be riding with you to Denver,” he rushes out.
No.
No fucking way.
Not happening. Absolutely not.
“Um,” I choke out as an uncontrollable cough rattles through my chest. “What do you mean Skylar’s riding with me? How do you even know that I plan on driving myself?”
“Because I know you built that arch thing for the wedding. You may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but you’re not stupid enough to show up to the airport with an arbor,” he adds.
This fucker.
“Let me get this straight… Not only are you telling me what I’m going to do, but you’re also going to insult me while doing it. Is that how you secure business deals with your clients?” I respond, rolling my eyes at his arrogance.
“Come on, Everett,” he exhales. “Like you would say no anyways. It’s a twelve-hour trip. How would you feel if Skylar’s car broke down or she had a flat tire? Plus, you can pretty much guarantee snow or ice driving to Colorado in February. Hell, what if some creep stops her and tries to—”
“Elliot, I get the fucking point,” I grit out, stopping him mid-sentence. I don’t want to hear anymore. Just the thought of where he was taking that conversation makes me sick.
“So, you’ll pick her up next week then?” He asks.
