I eye her suspiciously. “Why would they care about that?”
She rolls her eyes. “Rich people want to know how successful you are. I need you to make me look successful on paper.”
“Okay . . . what are you going to do?”
She pulls out her iPad and smiles. “Design, of course.”
“Of course.” Sighing, I open her computer. All the files we need on her computer are at the bottom, ready to be opened. “Am I going to hate you after this?”
“Possibly. But this is what you enjoy.”
“Oddly, it is.” I crack my fingers. “Let’s get to work, sis.”
“How do you turn off the car?” I ask, looking for an off button of some sort.
“I don’t think you turn it off,” Kelsey says, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
“What do you mean, you don’t turn it off? There has to be an off button somewhere.”
She shakes her head. “I went out with a guy with the exact same car, and he just put it in park, got out, locked up and walked away. The car knows when you’re not in it anymore.” She gets out, and I grumble to myself as I put the car in park and get out myself.
Out of all the cars Huxley could have given me, he gave me one with a mind of its own. I press the keycard to the side of the window and watch as the side mirrors curl in toward the car.
“Is it locked?” I ask.
“I believe so.” Kelsey checks her watch. “Come on, we’re going to be late if we fiddle around with this thing anymore.”
Shoving the keycard in my purse—keycard for a car, strange, by the way—I catch up to Kelsey, who’s already halfway to the building.
“Who are we meeting with, by the way? You never gave me any information. All I know is that your bookkeeping is in dire need of help and I’ve been able to pull together some rough numbers.”
She doesn’t answer, instead, pushes through the large glass doors and into a modern, sleek lobby. There isn’t a person in sight other than a receptionist at the front desk.
No signs.
No personalization.
Nothing to indicate where the hell we are.
“Miss Kelsey, Miss Lottie, glad you could make it,” the receptionist says. “Please, take the third elevator to the tenth floor. They’re waiting for you.”
“Thank you,” Kelsey says, powerwalking to the elevator.
I rush to catch up with her and barely make it into the elevator as the doors close behind me. “Jesus, hurry much?”
“We can’t be late. It looks bad.”
I lift her wrist to look at her watch. “We have two minutes to spare. Calm down.”
She looks me in the eyes. “This is important, Lottie. This could be a big break for us, okay? Please understand the magnitude of this.”
Seeing the desperation in my little sister’s eyes, I say, “Hey, I know this is important. I’d never do anything to mess with that. I’m just trying to calm you down. Going in there looking frenzied isn’t going to help the cause either.”
She takes a deep breath. “You’re right. This is like any other pitch I’ve made.”
“Exactly. We have everything we need, and I’m here by your side to help.”
“Thank you.” She squeezes my hand, the elevator dings, the doors part, and there, standing in front of a conference room, are three, tall, broad, and intimidating men.
But one of them is unmistakable.
“What the actual hell,” I mutter as my eyes land on Huxley.
“Decorum,” Kelsey whispers as she pulls me off the elevator with her.
“Kelsey, Lottie, so glad you could make it,” Huxley says with a grin. He gestures to the conference room behind him. “We’ll be in here.”
Kelsey starts for the conference room, but I grab her hand and hold my finger up to Huxley. With a smile that pains me, I say, “Please give us one moment. We’ll be right in.”
He nods, and the three men walk into the conference room, allowing the door to shut behind them.
I turn my back to them and, with eyes that scream death, say, “What the fuck, Kelsey? Why is Huxley here?”
With a grin spread across her face, making sure the guys see that nothing is wrong, she says, “That’s why he came by this morning—well, one of the reasons—to set up a meeting with us and to give you the car, obviously.”
“A meeting for what?”
“For the office.” Her smile grows even more. “He wants to possibly hire me to organize and make the office more sustainable. This could be a huge account, Lottie. If done right and efficiently, this could put us on the map.”
The excitement in her eyes, the hope blooming inside her, sets me into a tailspin. Because this doesn’t feel right, it almost feels too good to be true, and as the older sister, I want to protect her from harm. But how can I express my concerns without looking as though I’m trying to pee on her parade?
I don’t trust Huxley.
I don’t trust his intentions.
I’ve seen the extent he’ll go to in order to deceive someone into making a deal. Who’s to say he wouldn’t do that to my sister?
But her begging, pleading eyes are cutting through my strong will. She wants this, this chance to grow, and hell, I can’t take that away from her, no matter my level of unease.
Pushing my hesitation to the side, I say, “Okay, but let’s proceed with caution. We don’t know what this could lead to, and we also need to remember that Huxley is a shrewd businessman.”
She smirks. “Trust isn’t built in a day; I get it.” She takes my hand in hers. “Let’s go in there and blow their dicks off.”
I chuckle. “Not literally . . . right?”
Her eyes widen. “Right, no blowing actual dicks.”
Together, we walk into the conference room and stand at the end of the table, opposite the three extremely handsome men. Even though they all are extremely attractive—which isn’t intimidating at all—my eyes land on Huxley, sitting in the middle with his folded hands resting on the table.
“Mr. Cane, we’re so honored you had time to meet with us today,” Kelsey says, and I hold back a sneer at her use of Mr. Cane. Ugh, gross. Am I going to have to call him that?
And these two guys, do they know who I am? Am I supposed to walk up to Huxley and give him a kiss?
Oh shit, wait . . . was I?
Was this part of a test?
When I glance at Huxley, he’s staring me down, his eyes fixated on the ring on my finger, which I keep twirling with my thumb out of pure nerves.
Is he trying to tell me something? Is that a hint? I did brush him off right when we got here, asked for space. What if he’d intended to give me a hug? Should I assume these men know we’re engaged? Or is this a business setting? His house staff were aware of our engagement.
Jesus Christ, a heads-up would’ve been wonderful.
On both ends. From my sister and from Huxley.
Sweat forms at the base of my neck, heating up my ears as I take a step forward. I watch Huxley intently as I take another step forward, looking more like an unoiled robot than a confident fiancée. I just don’t know the protocol.
WHAT IS THE DAMN PROTOCOL?
“Lottie, are you okay?” Kelsey asks.
Another step, closing the distance, slowly, awkwardly, but closing it.
“Oh, yeah, just wonderful. Want to, uh, make sure I say hello. You know . . .” I gulp, “to my, uh, to my counterpart.” I point at Huxley and take another step forward. “The man I can’t stop thinking about.” Another step, until I’m right at his chair, the other two men looking up at me awkwardly. I pat Huxley on the shoulder, my gestures erratic. Not a smooth bone in my body. “Hello, dear honey . . . bottoms.” I smile. “You’re looking ravishing.” With every eye in the room watching me, I lean down, growing closer and closer until my lips meet the top of his head. Instantly I’m met by the smell of his delicious cologne and the masculine scent of his hair products. “Oh, that smells nice.” I pat his head. “Not musky at all. Just . . . you know, like a man should smell. All mountainy and rich. You smell very rich.” Awkwardly I finish kissing the top of his head, and then I move away and give him a thumbs up. “Love getting to sneak in some affection during the day . . . fiancé.” I wink and take another step back as a droplet of sweat rolls down my back.