“I assumeyou didn’t bring my brother?” Salinger Svensson asks when I trot up.
“I—I can’t find him.”
The billionaire’s lips thin. “Prism assured me that you were the one for this job.”
Didn’t know the job was babysitting an adult toddler, buuut…
“He’s not at home, he’s not in his office—” I’m flailing, and in three minutes I’ll be crying to boot.
“The judge stripped him of his driver’s license. He cannot have gone that far.”
“I’m making calls, sir,” I say, assuring Salinger. “I am on it.”
I amsonoton it.
My frantic calls yield zilch.
My deodorant is failing from the stress and the angry glares from McCarthy’s older brother.
And I realize belatedly, as a headache sets in, that I should have eaten more than two doughnuts for lunch.
Ten minutes after the press conference is supposed to start, McCarthy swaggers up to the microphones, one of my sparkly folders in hand. He does not look like a man who has read my carefully prepared press briefing.
McCarthy smirks at the reporters and slips off his sunglasses. His eyes narrow when he sees me in the crowd. He pins me with his gaze, blows me a kiss… and drops an F-bomb.
I amsogetting fired.
2
MCCARTHY
Iam not an ethical billionaire.
I don’t even pay lip service to that shit.
You won’t find me donating my hard-earned and exploited cash to some charity—they’re all scams anyway. I take care of me and mine. Everyone else can get fucked.
I don’t just believe in an eye for an eye. You give me or someone I love a paper cut and I’m nuking your house.
Sounds extreme and mildly illegal? Guess what? The rules don’t apply to me because I’m fucking rich.
No, I’m not using my money for the good of humanity.
No, I don’t regret my choices.
No, I won’t have a change of heart.
I’m a monster, and I love it. So do my stockholders.
Not my board of directors. Traitors. How dare they tryto control me?
They’re huddled like pampered backyard chickens in the chilly Seattle afternoon.
All except my older brother. Arms crossed, he glares as I lean into the microphone. Jenna the PR princess is standing next to him, her red mouth making an O shape as I lean in and address the scrum of reporters.
“Fuck this shit, and fuck all of you for showing up.”
Salinger mumbles curses as I continue. The little PR princess looks upset.
