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“What in God’s name are you doing here on a Saturday?” Gage asked as I strolled into the outer office.
“You forget I used to frequent the halls every Saturday.”
“You meant haunt them, leaving notes and memos so the employees would walk in and find them. Do you know how many complaints I used to get?” He thoroughly enjoyed making fun of me. Like my much younger half-brother, the guy was formidable in the business world, and the women in our clubs flocked to him as well.
I couldn’t count how many times he’d been propositioned with big dollars to become either a dominant or a submissive for an illustrious guest.
He’d laughed it off.
We had one rule for our little wealthy trio.
No touching the merchandise under any circumstances.
“Very funny. I’m here to finally take a glance at the latest Progressive Media financials.”
He scratched the two-day stubble on his jaw. “Don’t you have not one but three top-dollar computer systems at your house?”
“Yes, but I hate bringing business home with me.”
Correction. I refused to bring our father’s business home with me.
“Dare I ask what you do with those high-dollar computer systems?” His grin was huge.
“Indulge in delicious porn.” We both burst into laughter. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s my turn to head to the islands, man. Favor for Braxton.” He was especially good at grasping an island accent, which he often used with the ladies. “I thought I’d get a head start and maybe leave today. I heard we might have some trouble with one of our clients in St. Martin.”
“Do I want to know?”
“You do not,” my brother said.
“Fine. Have a good trip. Meanwhile, I’ll be suffering being forced to have lunch with Pops at the country club of all places.” I heard an incoming text and fought a huge grin. If I’d be forced to admit to God and a mirror, I’d spent way too much time thinking about the mystery girl during the night, including masturbating to rather lurid thoughts. I’d dared text her before walking into the office because I had no willpower.
And she’d managed to find a way to brighten my mood.
“Ugh, bro. You’re in trouble with Dad. I heard about the article. Just for the record. I don’t think you’re skanky. You’re too old.”
“He can get over himself and fuck off.”
“Maybe you can figure out what is really going on,” he suggested. “He’s not the kind of man to give a shit about some asshole reporter.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know about that. Dad has been very secretive as of late. My guess is the article pushed him off some imaginary ledge.” And I’d been purposely AWOL.
Just reading her reply took the sting out of being required, as my dad had said on the phone bright and early at six this morning.
Unknown: Well, I’m covered in icing if that has any interest to you.
Me: You do know how to tempt a man.
Unknown: Why yes, yes, I do.
Me: I think it’s time we created names for each other. Don’t you?
Unknown: Good idea. Who are you?
I had to think about something sinfully fun.
Me: The Lone Ranger. And you?
