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Jack isn’t a bad kid. Okay, technically he is by most people’s (and the law’s) definition of the word. But take my word as a former really bad kid, Jack just doesn’t have the same destructive anger that I’d had at his age. Unfortunately, while I’d been able to channel my aggression into business, Jack has zero drive to do anything at all.
No, my little brother would rather ignore his natural intelligence in favor of drinking with his buddies, gambling, and getting laid. I’d had a lot of plans for him when I became his legal guardian last fall. Now my goal is no longer to get him into Yale, but just to get him to graduate high school, a situation that’s perilous at best at the moment.
The board of the Elton Academy, a premier boarding school just outside of Boston, is currently deliberating on whether or not to expel him for arson.
At least it had been an accident, the result of flaming shots spilled a bit too close to a pile of textbooks. By the time the firemen had come, Jack had managed to use an extinguisher to put out the mess himself. Unfortunately, it was too late to keep the room from having to be completely renovated.
Normally a mistake like that, especially this close to graduation, would be swept under the rug. But his roommate happened to be the son of the French ambassador. His Eminence was very displeased to find his son’s name in the news and was downright furious to discover the sizable collection of alcohol, weed, and psychedelics that were confiscated from the scorched dorm room.
All of it had led to an incredibly unpleasant meeting last Friday. I’d taken the train down to Boston and sat through an hour of bitching and moaning from the politician (a class of people I don’t like in the best of times) directed at my younger brother. Jack isn’t a perfect kid, but I didn’t buy it for a moment that he’d subjected his poor innocent roommate to nights of partying and debauchery. When I pointed this out, I was accused of trying to downplay the severity of the matter. I’d then said that his son ran from the fire like their government had run from the Germans. The whole meeting had gone downhill from there.
Though I’d defended him to the best of my abilities, I’m not certain Jack is making it out of the place with a high school diploma. It’s beyond frustrating. I just wanted to get Jack back on the right path, but he’s not exactly making things easy on me.
It’s obvious that I have enough problems in my life right now. I don’t need any more.
Certainly none that come in the form of a blonde spitfire in stilettos.
Evie Davis is my worst nightmare. She’s a distraction in its purest form, stealing my attention on the train and not letting it go. Witty and wily, from our first conversation she’d captivated me. She’s utterly entrancing. She’s deliciously sexy. She’s a blue-eyed love note with a red-lipped kiss on the dotted line.
Additionally, she’s rude and easily riled and thinks that I had everything I own handed to me on a silver platter. There’s never been an idea I’ve wanted to correct more.
I turn in my chair, look out over the city. I usually find my gaze drawn west, but ever since our meeting, I’ve found my eyes drifting uptown, tracing the towers of Mid-Manhattan, wondering which one she’s in, what she’s doing, what she’s thinking about.
So imagine my surprise when her shocked voice had cut through my fantasies this morning and I’d turned around to find her right there in front of me.
What are the odds?
Instantly upon seeing her, an unfamiliar voice had nearly spoken out of my mouth and hired her on the spot. Even though I’d managed to bite it back, the impulse to offer her the job had hammered at me the entire meeting. Years of professionalism had allowed me, forced me, to keep my cool. And then she’d done what I thought was impossible and had actually impressed me. Off script she was just as quick and crude, disarming and daring, as she’d been on the train.
And god how that black business attire had clung to her curves…
But ultimately my composure had won out. Ultimately reason had reigned. There is absolutely no way I can work with that woman. It’d be a shit show. Every time we’d have to meet to talk about the ship, I’d only be able to fantasize about bending her over and making her squeal.
No. Business and pleasure have to be separate for me. Unfortunately, because business is my entire life that means there’s very little time for pleasure. Maybe that’s why I’m acting like a lust-struck teenager over this complete stranger.
But still that doesn’t change the fact that Evie Davis is bad news. Bad news for Madison Enterprises. Bad news for the Seafarer. And bad news for me.
My phone rings.
It’s Jack. That’s not a good sign as the kid makes it a point to never call me unless the sky is falling.
“What is it?” I say and immediately wish that I sounded happier to talk to him. Though maybe if he called more I would stop bracing myself every time we speak.
“Hey, Nick,” Jack says. My heart sinks. My younger brother sounds contrite. Another bad sign.
“Don’t tell me they decided,” I say sharply. “They said they’d deliberate through the end of the week.” Giving me enough time to buy a building or finance a library or fund a scholarship. The Madison Scholarship for Academic Excellence does have a nice ring to it.
“Well they were going to, but…”
“But what?” I growl when he hesitates to continue.
“But I may have gotten caught running a little game last night.”
“How little?” I groan.
“Five grand buy in.”
Jesus Christ, this kid is going to be the death of me.
