Page 12 of Her New Billionaire Bosshole

Skylar grimaces, still looking down at her notes. “Yes. But, just so you know, she didn’t seem too happy about it.”

“Noted. What else?”

She rattles off a long list of people who’d like to talk to me, get a meeting with me. Updates from my other ventures, as well as new dates for meetings I’ve had to reschedule because of the time I’ve been spending here, working on the team.

“And, there’s one more thing, sir.”

I glance up from the pattern on the carpet and meet her eyes. “What’s that.”

She shifts uncomfortably, and before she says it, I know what it is. Skylar clears her throat, glances back down at her tablet, and says, “It’s your brother. He’s been trying to get in contact with you…”

Immediately, I picture that specific look my father gets when thinking about Brandon. It’s not worth facing my father’s wrath to have a chat with Brandon. He’ll come around eventually, give in to Dad’s pressure.

“Block the number.” Waving my hand nonchalantly, I say, “In fact, you can block any of his attempts to get in touch with me.”

Skylar looks unsure, but nods and says, “Okay. Will do, sir.”

As we go through the rest of her notes, my mind keeps going back to Brandon, the pang in my chest at the idea of ignoring him. The knowledge that dealing with my father will be much worse.

CHAPTER 6

SOPHIE

I’m fast asleep when Olivia calls me at the crack of dawn.

“Hello, yes,” I mumble, groggy and stupid with exhaustion. Outside my window, the sun has barely crested the horizon, gentle pinks streaking through the sky. “Thank you fornevermissing one of our calls, sister-sister.”

“Up and at ’em, Coach!” Olivia chirps happily, and I just know that she’s already out and about, walking around, a coffee in hand. Thank goodness we’re not living together anymore — I need to feel sufficiently miserable in the mornings in order to function.

I swing my legs out of the bed. “Did you see the game last night?”

“Of course I did. I’m insulted that you think I’d miss it.”

“Maybe you were busy with important journalism stuff.”

“I’m a fashion journalist, Soph. It’s not exactly like I’ll need to cover breaking news. Besides, do you know how much it cost me to add women’s soccer to my TV plan? No way am I missing a single game.”

I laugh, fumbling my way through the dark, feeling into the bathroom. When I stub my toe on the vanity, Olivia sighs on the other end of the line.

“Just turn the lights on, for heaven’s sake.”

“It’s like five more minutes of sleep, Ol. I’m not giving that up.”

“How does it feel like five more minutes of sleep when you’re on the phone with me?”

“That’s a great question — could you lower your voice?”

Olivia hangs up, and when she calls back a minute later, as I’m putting toothpaste on my brush, I answer, “You bitch.”

She cackles through the phone. “Did you ask mom about dinner tonight?”

“You know she’s not going to tell me.”

“Drat. I need to know how disappointed I’m going to be.”

“You could always come home.”

“Right. The nice, cheap round-trip flight from LA to Dallas, just for Sunday dinner.”