I don’t want anyone thinking there’s something wrong with my dick because, yes, I’m shallow, thank you very much.
And Huxley fucking knows it.
“That’s what I thought. You’re going.”
Fuck.
So much for being able to think on my goddamn feet.
“You leave tonight. I had Karla call ahead to the penthouse. It’s already been cleaned and stocked with food.”
The penthouse?
No fucking way.
Okay, sure, I have to go to San Francisco, but the penthouse? Has he lost his goddamn mind?
“Do you really think the penthouse is necessary? A simple hotel room will do, don’t you think?”
“What’s the penthouse?” Kelsey asks.
“Housing the company owns,” Huxley answers. “And, yes, the penthouse is necessary. You will be much more comfortable there. We’ve already set up a car service, and Karla is working on scheduling meetings with our architect and contractors. If we’re sending you up there, we want to make the most of our time. The trip will last two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” I shout. “You want us to be up there for two weeks? I thought we just had a two-week limit to turn things in.”It shouldn’t take that long.
Huxley’s jaw ticks, his frustration coming to a boiling point as his forehead starts to turn a dangerous shade of red. He’s frustrated with me, but who the fuck cares? He wants me to be sharing a penthouse with Kelsey for two weeks, the one person I don’t want to be around? Is this some sort of scheme by the engaged couple to get two singles together? When have we ever forced two employees to share the penthouse before... for two weeks?
Never.
In a firm voice, Huxley says, “You will be there for two weeks. I expect to receive daily reports on all decisions. And while you’re up there, make sure you set up meetings with the mayor. You’re the media relations for this company, after all, JP, the face. Don’t forget it.”
As if he’d ever let me.
Pushing away from the table, I stand abruptly and ask, “When does the plane leave?”
“Six sharp. Don’t be late.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I move past everyone, straight out of the conference room, and toward my office.
This is bullshit.
There’s no need for us to be in San Francisco for two weeks, sharing a place. It’s like he’s purposefully trying to make my life a living hell. But that’s how it’s always been—Huxley gets what he wants.
Starting this business was his idea. I jumped on board because, frankly, I didn’t have anything better to do with my life, but when responsibilities started to roll out, it was as if Breaker and Huxley just came up with jobs they wanted and gave me the leftovers. Does it look like I want to be the face of the company? The guy who talks to the media and waves his hand about and cuts ribbons?
Fuck no.
There’s no purpose behind it.
Nothing.
I don’t feel fulfilled when I go to work.
And now, this... I’m a fucking glorified babysitter.
I reach my office, but when I go to shut my door, I’m quickly stopped by my brothers, who apparently have been hot on my heels during my retreat.
I don’t bother arguing with them to leave me alone, because there’s no point, they won’t give me privacy. I take a seat on my couch and spread out, ready for the lecture.
