“He was passing by and wanted to help,” I explain.
Ethan runs a hand through his hair.“You three had better fix this.I’ve never seen her so angry.And I want the boyfriend’s name and details.”His voice goes ice-cold on the last part.
I exchange a look with Jake, but there’s no getting around this.“I’ll send it to you.”
“Good.”Ethan stands up, straightening his jacket.
We’re all heading toward the door when Ethan stops and turns to Jake.“And what exactly do you think you’re doing with my head of marketing?”
Jake freezes, his hand on the doorknob.When he turns around, he’s wearing that innocent expression that’s fooled exactly no one since we were kids.
“Nothing,” he says.“We’re just friends.”
Ethan’s smile could cut glass.“Jake.”
“What?”
“Be careful.”
“Why would I need to be?—”
“Because Iris isn’t as tight-lipped with Natalie as you are with me.”
The color drains from Jake’s face.“What does that mean?”
“It means,” Ethan says, opening the door, “that my fiancée knows exactly what you’ve been up to.And she tells me everything.”Jake looks like he wants to say something—probably something involving colorful language—but Ethan’s already walking away.
I turn to Jake as the door closes behind our oldest brother.“Okay, what the hell is going on?”
Jake straightens his tie and gives me a look that could have come straight from our father’s playbook.“Mind your own business, Caleb.”But there’s something in his tone, something almost fond, that tells me this conversation is far from over.
“Jake.”
“Mind your own business, Caleb,” he repeats mildly.He’s out the door before I can respond, leaving me standing alone in my apartment with more questions than answers.
I gather up the empty beer bottles and glasses, carrying them to the kitchen.The silence settles around me like a heavy blanket.I hate how quiet this place gets, but I can’t deny it’s convenient for work.No neighbors banging around above me, no thin walls letting in street noise.Just me and my thoughts in this ridiculously oversized penthouse.
Three bedrooms, though I only use one.There’s a study where I actually get work done, and a gaming room for when I need to blow off steam.Megan decorated the whole place a couple years back, insisting I needed ‘some culture and class’ in my life.She added throw pillows that serve no purpose, artwork I don’t understand, and plants I somehow manage not to kill.The feminine touches don’t bother me; it’s better than the bachelor pad aesthetic I would have gone with.
But as I look around now, I find myself wondering what Eve would think of this place.Would she roll her eyes at the expensive but impractical furniture?Make some sarcastic comment about the view?Or would she curl up on that ridiculously oversized couch with a glass of wine like she did at her apartment?
I start pulling ingredients from the fridge, deciding to make something more substantial than the sandwich I was planning.Maybe I should invite Eve over for dinner sometime.Cook for her properly, not just bring takeout to her place.
The thought makes me smile without realizing it.
She’d probably have something cutting to say about my kitchen, or my cooking, or the fact that I’m thinking about cooking for her at all.That spicy tongue of hers never seems to take a break, and I find myself looking forward to whatever verbal lashing she’ll give me next.I wonder if I’m a masochist.
The way she tears into people, refuses to be pushed around, fills me with a sense of satisfaction.How could her mother not be proud of her?But then I remember how Natalie’s mother was.I’ve been raised by a mother who only ever loved and supported her children, so perhaps it’s incomprehensible to me for a mother to be so harsh to her child.
But Eve is fierce, and her ambition is a terrifying thing.I know she will go places.This small company will not be enough to satisfy her.I want to see her climb to the top, I realize.I want to watch her successes and failures.Eve Lopez is a formidable opponent, and I’m slowly getting addicted to everything about her.
Especially in bed.I do enjoy being the only one who can break through that stubborn streak of hers.In bed, that sharp tongue gets put to much better use.The rebelliousness that is always there in her eyes, that streak of defiance, breaking it when she’s under me, having her beg for more is like an aphrodisiac.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m reaching for my phone and scrolling to her number.She picks up on the third ring, and her voice is distinctly cranky.“What do you want, Caleb?”
My smile broadens as I lean against the counter.“Hey, Lopez.What are you up to?”
“Why?”The suspicion in her voice makes me want to chuckle.
