Ansel
The thing about having two identical brothers who share your face is that they can read you better than anyone else on the planet. That is precisely why I don’t look at either of them as we walk into the neutral conference room Gran rented for this meeting.
“Why are we in a random office building?” Enzo scans the generic corporate space with obvious distaste. Beige walls, standard-issue conference table, a motivational poster about “synergy” that makes me want to set the building on fire.
“Because Gran wanted to maintain confidentiality until the contractor signs.” I set my laptop on the table. “The candidate doesn’t know which company they’re interviewing with yet.”
“That seems excessive, even for Gran.” Breck drops into a chair, already loosening his tie. “What, are we worried about corporate espionage before we even hire someone?”
“We’re worried about reputation management.” I pull up the limited file Gran sent over. Still barely anything: a contract outline, compensation package, and an NDA thick enough to stop a bullet. “If word gets out that Jacobs Security has a breach we can’t identify, our stock drops twenty percent before lunch.”
Enzo scoffs. “I understand you feel desperate.” He tips his chair back on two legs, a habit that’s driven me crazy since we were fourteen. “But are you sure bringing in a stranger to poke around in our systems is the right thing to do?”
“It fixes it by keeping everything contained until we know what we’re dealing with.” My fingers drum against the table. “Besides, Gran doesn’t make recommendations lightly. If she tells us this person is the best, I believe her.”
“Bringing in an outsider says we can’t handle our own shit.” Enzo finally lets his chair drop back to all four legs.
“It’s admitting we’re smart enough to know when we need a fresh perspective. There’s a difference.”
Enzo rolls his eyes. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
The door opens before I can respond, cutting off what would have been a predictably circular argument. Gran’s attorney steps in with a professional smile.
“Gentlemen, thank you for your patience. Your candidate has arrived. Are you ready?”
“As we’ll ever be.” Breck flashes a charming smile. “Let’s see if Gran’s mystery genius lives up to the hype.”
The attorney nods and steps back out into the hallway. I hear low voices, the sound of heels on the tile floor.
Then she walks in. And I know the woman standing in front of us.
Her copper-red hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail. And her bright blue eyes are just as sharp as I remember. The freckles across her nose are familiar, too, though I’ve never been close enough to notice how many there are.
Remy Ray.
Damon’s ex-girlfriend.
The ex-girlfriend who, according to our best friend, became obsessed after he ended things, because she couldn’t handlerejection. The gold-digger who wanted access to his connections and got vindictive when he saw through her.
What the fuck is she doing here?
The silence stretches, and Remy’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly as she recognizes us.
We didn’t hang out with her much while she dated Damon. But we’ve been at the same tech conferences, the same industry events, and even some of the same parties. Her hand tightens on the portfolio she’s carrying. But to her credit, she doesn’t freeze and doesn’t turn around and leave.
She steps fully into the room and extends her hand. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
Steady. Professional. Like she’s done this a thousand times, like walking into a room full of her ex-boyfriend’s best friends is perfectly normal.
Breck recovers first. He’s on his feet, accepting her handshake with that devastating smile that’s closed more deals than our actual sales team. “Breck Jacobs. COO. This is Enzo, our CTO, and Ansel, our CEO.”
“I know who you are.” Her mouth curves slightly. “There is no need to pretend we don’t know each other.”
“No, there isn’t,” I agree and leave it at that.
She doesn’t look away. “I take it Sadie didn’t mention who I was.”
“She said you were qualified. She didn’t tell us you’re Damon’s ex,” Enzo says, and I don’t bother apologizing for his bluntness.
