by Lisa Suzanne
Part of me wonders if it’s Tess. After she jetted out last night, she’s sort of on my mind. Maybe the reverse psychology thing worked, or maybe it’s because I’m here at Mark’s penthouse with his wife sitting across the table from me. I wonder if Tess told them we banged last night.
I can’t help it. I pull my phone out to sneak a peek even though I’m sure my mother will scold me, and sure enough, it’s the news I didn’t want.
I slide my phone back in my pocket and glance at my mom. She has one eyebrow raised at me.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
She just purses her lips with no words, a clear sign of disapproval, and she reduces me to a child instead of a thirty-two-year-old man.
“So, Brian, you have plans to see Tess again?” Mark asks.
The forkful of eggs I’m holding stops halfway between my plate and my lips. I force it to finish its journey as I try to come up with a witty response. His words blindside me, but I’m not surprised she told them.
“Nope,” I say between the egg in my mouth. Better in my mouth than on my face, I guess.
“Sounds like she had fun with you,” Reese teases.
I’m sort of surprised she’s teasing me. I didn’t think we’d ever progress in our in-law relationship to be able to do that, but I guess we have.
“We had a nice time.” I press my lips together. “But that was it.”
“Tess, the bridesmaid?” my mom asks, and Reese nods eagerly. Too eagerly. “She’s very pretty,” my mom adds, like it’s the only worthy attribute of a woman.
“She’s gorgeous, but there’s nothing there,” I say firmly in an attempt to get everyone off my back. “And I’d prefer if we stopped talking about this since I don’t really want Jason finding out.”
“Seemed like something was there by the way Tess was glowing when she came over last night,” Mark says, totally ignoring my request.
“Glowing?” my mom asks, and my brother laughs.
I shake my head. We may be adults, but that doesn’t mean I want to discuss my sex life in front of my mother. She’s forever badgering me to settle down, just like she did to Mark before he and Reese got married. I thought when he knocked his wife up my mom would be happy and lay off me a while, but clearly I was mistaken.
“When are you two heading back to Los Angeles?” I ask, abruptly changing the subject.
“I have a private event tonight, so we’re driving back this afternoon,” Mark says.
“I need to talk to you before you go,” I say, and I catch my parents exchanging a secret smile. “What?” I ask.
My mom lifts a shoulder and looks away like she doesn’t want to ruin the secret, and my dad has a hint of pride in his eyes. I don’t know what the fuck that’s about, but I’m not about to ask them. Maybe Mark knows.
Once breakfast is finished and the plates are clean, Mark invites me into his office so we can have some privacy. “Is this about their anniversary thing?”
My brows furrow.
“Clearly not,” he says with a laugh.
“What anniversary thing?” I ask.
“Their fortieth is this summer. Lizzie’s planning something. Didn’t she tell you?”
“I got a few texts from her that I ignored.” I pull out my phone to check the texts from our sister, and sure enough, she asked me a month ago which weekends in July and August work best for me. I never replied.
“You’re such a dick.”
I read through Lizzie’s messages. “She’s fine and I’ll be there.”
“So what did you want to talk about?” he asks.
I draw in a deep breath to calm the nerves buzzing through my stomach. I hate asking anybody for anything, but I especially hate asking my brother. He has everything, and it’s just further proof that I don’t. “I need a small loan.”
He steeples his pointer fingers in front of his mouth and folds the rest of them as he leans his elbows on his desk. He eyes me for a beat, and then he says around his fingers, “Why?”
“Why?” I repeat as my brows furrow in confusion. I don’t understand what he doesn’t get. There’s only one reason people ask others for money...and it’s because they need money. “I need money. Isn’t that sort of the obvious answer?”
“Why do you need money? What happened to the money I gave you a couple months ago?”
I look away from his prying eyes. I’d hoped he wouldn’t bring it up, but I should’ve known better. “I spent it.” I refrain from mentioning I’ve also sunk my entire life savings back into the company. We’re thriving, or at least we’re on track to be thriving, but because of our quick growth, I’m spending money we don’t have on employees we didn’t anticipate we’d need.
“How much?”
“Fifty.”
His brows go up. “Thousand?”
I nod.
“What the fuck for?”
I heave out a breath. “We’re out of liquid until the end of the month because of some unexpected costs.”
“What kind of unexpected costs?” He throws air quotes around the last two words.
I can’t admit we’ve been entertaining clients Vegas-style, so instead I say, “A big client I’d been working on for months fell through. One we were depending on. I know better than to raise budgets until the ink is dry, but this was such a sure thing that I broke my own rule.”
“Business one-oh-one, dude,” Mark says, shaking his head.
Sometimes I really fucking hate him, but he’s my only option. I don’t deserve his scolding, and fifty grand to him is like ten bucks to everyone else. I wish he’d just hand it over without the side of grilling. “Look, I know I fucked up, okay? But I just need a loan to get me through to the end of the month to cover payroll. I signed three new clients this week, but our analytics team has to put in the work before we get the check from the new clients. It’ll balance out eventually.”
“Fucking better,” he says, opening his laptop and pulling on a pair of reading glasses. “I’ll get it transferred today. Should clear by the end of the day.” He’s a signer on the FDB Tech Corp account and has an account at the same bank, which helps move things along significantly.
He stares me down another minute. “There’s two conditions on this cash, though.”
I raise my brows and hold both palms up as if to say, have at it.
“First, I want you to know I’m investing in you, Brian. The real you. I know you can do better, so I’m handing money for you to put into FDB for the last time. It’s not a loan. It’s yours.”
I nod. “Fine,” I say flippantly. It’s not the first time he’s given me this particular speech. He’ll forget and hand over the dollars the next time I ask for them, but what I told him is true. I won’t need another loan. “What’s your second condition?”
“I get fifty-one percent controlling interest.”
I shake my head and stand up. “Fuck you, Mark. I’ll figure something else out.” I turn to leave, but his voice stops me.
He lifts a shoulder. “The money’s yours. I’ll even add ten grand more on top just to keep you ahead.”
He’s got me backed into a corner and he knows it. Bank loans take longer than I have. I slide back into the chair. “Why do you want controlling interest?”
“Investments.” He says it so simply, yet I know there’s more. “I believe in your company, Brian. I just don’t think you’re handling the finances in the most cost-efficient way. I want to oversee what’s going on. I don’t want you to ask me for more money. I want this business to thrive like I know it can.”
“You’ve already got more control than I do and I’m the goddamn president.” When my friends and I moved to Vegas to start a business, my brother came on as a silent investor. We wrote him in at forty percent, and the rest of us each got twenty.
“Co-president,” he corrects. “I’ve only got forty percent. Round up enough to get me to fifty-one, talk it over with Jason and Becker, and then I’ll push the money through today.”
&n
bsp; I glance down at the floor. “They don’t know.”
“You haven’t explained to your business partners that you’re fucking up the money end of it?”
I shake my head guiltily, and my brother heaves out a sigh as he narrows his eyes at me.
“Then give me eleven percent of your control,” he says.
“That’ll only leave me with nine.” I know my voice is whiney, but my big brother is being a total douchebag.
He shrugs. “Should’ve thought that through before you started spending money you don’t have.”
He’s right, but I can’t admit that. “You’re an asshole.”
“This is business. If you can’t handle business with family, you shouldn’t have come asking for money.”
I sigh. “Fine. Draw up a contract and I’ll sign it before you go. I need the money yesterday, but not a word of this to Jason or Becker.” With Beck getting married and Jason involved in some new projects, it’s shit they don’t need to worry about. It’ll be over before they know anything happened anyway.
He taps his keyboard, hits print, and hands me a sheet of paper. I read it over and sign away eleven of the twenty percent of the company I own, shove it back at him, and stalk out of the room.
“Nice doing business with you,” he says just before I slam the door shut behind me.
chapter four
I gaze out my window at the view from my bed.
I guess if I’m honest with myself, I wouldn’t be living here if it weren’t for my brother. He’s always been generous with his money, and I try to remind myself that’s exactly what it is—his money. That’s all well and fine, but he just took something that was mine from me, so I don’t really feel all that guilty spending his money the way I always have.
Which reminds me...I grab my phone and check my calendar. I have a business dinner tonight with a local client, and this one always likes to have a good time. And by good time, I mean strip clubs with bottle service.
Thank God that money from Mark came through, and while we’re being thankful for things, thank God for credit cards.
I resume my gaze out the window for a little longer. My eyes follow the peaks and valleys of the mountains, and I realize what a lucky bastard I am.
Once I get out of bed, I’ll get ready to go to a job I love at a company I own headquartered a block off the Las Vegas Strip. As a kid growing up in Chicago, I always dreamed big...but I’m not sure I ever dreamed this big.
I finally force myself out of the comfort of the ridiculously high thread count sheets and pad naked toward my lavish shower that I had redone when I bought this place.
I looked at houses with my brother’s girl back when I was “dating” her, but I didn’t want to buy a place I could “grow into,” as I insinuated to make her think I was ready to start a family.
I don’t want to grow into anything, and it was with that thought in mind that I hired the hottest designer in Vegas to decorate this place to make it a true bachelor pad. Man cave? Fuck that noise. This is more like a man castle.
Everything is dark wood, navy blue, and added extravagance. It’s more than one guy needs, but instead of rooms I could grow into, I themed them to fit my needs. Instead of separate bedrooms fit for future children, I knocked down a few walls and created a huge home office. Instead of a “family room,” I have what I call my “football room.” It’s filled with sports memorabilia, a projector television for game day, a wet bar, and, most importantly, leather recliners and a super comfortable couch for my buddies and me to watch the game on.
I bought this place nearly three years ago, spent a few months renovating it, and have lived in it ever since, and never once have I regretted what I did to it. Never once have I looked around and thought something or someone was missing from it.
But I do have one hell of a good time here, and when I bring ladies back? Forget it. It somehow makes me even more attractive to them paired with my don’t-give-a-fuck attitude.
Life’s pretty damn good, barring the shit my brother just put me through and a few financial issues, but I’ll land on my feet. I always do.
* * *
When I get to the office, it’s business as usual. Becker is out of town for his honeymoon for the next four weeks. Jason sits in his office and waves as I pass by on my way to my own office. I greet my secretary, Lauren, and I think again how she just isn’t as hot as my old secretary, Kelsey, and that’s probably a good thing.
Kelsey and I got wrapped up in some crazy shenanigans, and ultimately it’s probably my fault she quit. And when I say probably, I’m definitely positive of it. I didn’t treat her very well, but on the other hand, she allowed it. She quit when she thought we were monogamous—something I never agreed to—and she caught me with another woman in my office. She called it cheating, but I wouldn’t label it that way. Both parties need to agree to being the other’s only significant other before it can be considered cheating, and I never agreed to it because I didn’t want that with her. I haven’t wanted that in a long time.
The last time I wanted it, I got burned. If there’s anything my logic has taught me, it’s that once you get burned, it’s fucking dumb to stick your hand back in the fire.
It’s a Monday morning and my brother owns the majority of this company now. I had a strange feeling something was going to be different when I walked in, and I’m relieved to see everything is the same as it’s always been.
I settle into my office. The first phone call of my morning is to the vice president of one of our new clients. Ellen Howard is a cougar if I’ve ever met one. I met her last year at a Vegas networking event, and if I hadn’t taken Kelsey as my date, I might’ve allowed her to work her cougar magic on me.
“I need some facetime, Mr. Fox,” she says once our greetings are out of the way. “I need you to explain the newest analytics to me. I don’t understand what I’m looking at with all these charts and graphs and I further have no idea what I’m supposed to do with this information.”
“Let’s set up a Skype meeting,” I say, and she laughs.
“That’s not what I meant. I mean real face-to-face interaction. You kids are always doing things over technology, but I’m old school. Take me to lunch and tell me my numbers look pretty.”
“Your numbers are gorgeous, Ms. Howard, and I’d be happy to take you to lunch.” I glance at my calendar. I have a meeting at one, but it’s in-house with the analytics team, and I can have Lauren reschedule. “I can squeeze you in today around noon if you’re free.”
“I’d love to be squeezed in today at noon.”
Her tone doesn’t betray whether she’s coming onto me or if she’s simply repeating my own words, so I don’t dare laugh even though it’s my instinct. “Great. I can send a car for you a little before. Does that work?”
“Will you be in it?”
“I’ll meet you at the restaurant. Is the one in the lobby of my building okay with you?”
“Fine, Mr. Fox. I look forward to it.”
“As do I,” I say, but honestly, I’m already sort of regretting agreeing to a short-notice lunch with a client whose paws I may be battling away for the duration of our lunch.
I’m late after a busy morning, but I walk into the restaurant at twelve-fifteen and find Ellen at a table with a half-drunk martini perched in her hand. One long leg is crossed over the other, and she sort of looks like an older version of a classic pin-up model dressed in a pantsuit.
“Never keep your client waiting, Mr. Fox,” she says.
I run a hand along my jaw and hand her a folder. “My apologies. I won’t make excuses.”
“Thank you for that, at least.”
A waiter comes by for my drink order. “The usual?” he asks. I come here often, obviously.
I nod my head indicating I’d love a whiskey. I feel like I’m going to need it to get through this lunch.
FDB is a predictive analytics company whose goal is to extract data and predict trends and outcomes. I show Ellen her
company’s latest charts and explain how the data on them can help inform her company’s decisions.
“Look right here, for example,” I say. “This chart shows how many clicks the links on this particular webpage received on each day of the week. You can see traffic was heavier on a Tuesday, so...” I pause as I pull another sheet out. “When we look at this graphic, you can see the direct link between when your promotional email went out and when your website got hits.” I pull another sheet out. “And this graph shows your split testing for subject lines. Clearly this one—” I trail off as I feel her hand on my arm.
“Mr. Fox, this is wonderful information. Thank you.”
I’m not sure what to do. She asked me to explain her data...yet she’s interrupting me and making me feel like I should stop talking.
“Do you have any questions?” I finally ask.
She hasn’t moved her hand.
“I do have one.”
I glance up at her and arch an eyebrow, and she’s gazing at me with smoldering eyes. “Is there anywhere private around here?”
I can’t help my nervous chuckle. “You’d like to discuss your numbers more privately?” I ask.
She nods.
“We can go up to my office after lunch,” I say. “But I do have a one o’clock meeting...”
“Then let’s just forget lunch,” she says, and I feel a foot traveling the length of my calf beneath the table. She doesn’t stop until she finds the goods, and I shift uncomfortably.
“Oh, Ms. Howard, I don’t think that would be a good idea.” I’m not quite sure why I’m telling her no. I usually don’t say no, in fact, but she’s just so...
Old. She’s old. She was probably gorgeous back in her day, but she’s clearly got at least thirty, maybe forty years on me, and she reminds me way too much of my mother with her professional clothes and no-nonsense attitude.
I can’t.
I don’t even want to be sitting at this table with her now that I figured out why I can’t, but I need to follow through with my lunch.
