“It’s okay, Jolene,” I call out before she gets the chance to knee my brother in the nuts.
I know it’s him.
If it were Dad, she’d let him through because she knows she can’t do fuck-all about him. Mom would not push her way through. She’d wait to be walked in like a queen, and then she’d order coffee like Jolene is a server and we’re in a restaurant.
Only Tristan would try to assert the length of his dick bybeing a dickto my executive assistant. He’s that kind of special asshole.
“Tristan.” I acknowledge his presence, without looking up from my laptop screen. “Welcome to the den of betrayal and poor decisions.”
“You think this is funny?” His voice is sharp.Petulant.
I don’t bother asking him what he’s talking about because, honestly, I’m simply not interested.
I finish writing the email I was working on, and lean back in my chair.
I study my brother. Expensive blazer, hair gelled within an inch of its life, a scowl that’s more insecure than intimidating.
“What can I do for you?”
He sits down, or rather flops down, on a client chair.
He’s the baby of the family. Spoiled.
Gianna didn’t have that luxury because she’s a girl. Neither did I because I had responsibilities. So, Tristan, like every good spare, lived the high life when we were kids, and believes it’s his right.
Entitled dickhead!
“Betty wants to have a family dinner. She expects you to be there.”
“And I expect interest rates to drop below zero and stay there, but that’s not happening, either.”
He gives me a withering look. “All this is because you can’t control your wife. If she’d just shut the fuck up, Betty wouldn’t be?—”
“Now, now, Tristan. Don’t blame Mia for you fucking Lulu on your marital bed.”
In the past, I’d have let him berate Mia, thinking I just want him gone so I can get back to work.
Now?Hell to the fucking no!
“Excuse me?”
“You were the one fucking your nanny, Tristan, andhiding it so poorly that Mia heard about it at her freaking kindergarten.”
He bangs a fist on my table.
If he was going to behave like a toddler, I was going to treat him like one.
I narrow my eyes. “You plan on stomping your feet as well?”
The look on his face: shock mingled with embarrassment mixed in with meanness is absolutely delicious.
I wish I’d recorded it. Huxley, who always wanted me to kick my brother’s bratty ass, would appreciate it.
“She’s ruined my marriage and our parents’,” he accuses.
I arch an eyebrow, amused. “Tristan, Mom and Dad’s marriage has always been what it is—a complete shitshow, because he’s been cheating on her since the start. Your marriage is shitty because you can’t keep it in your pants, either. Now, I’ve got a meeting with my wealth manager in ten minutes, so if you’re here to invite me to dinner, the answer is a hard no. If it’s something else, get to the point.”
He leans in, elbows braced on the arms of his chair, his jaw tense. “You know Dad’s trying to get you fired as CEO.”
