But I wouldn’t say he’s the worst human I’ve ever come across. He’s temperamental, doesn’t seem to have the most impeccable conversational skills, and loves to drive people nuts, but I wouldn’t say he’s the worst.
I see good in him.
I see how he helps others.
I see the way he knows everyone’s name in the office, how he says hi to them, how he gets people coffee just out of the kindness of his heart.
I see the compliments he tosses around, the good-natured comradery he creates, and the smiles he puts on faces.
I see the love and respect he has for his brothers, even when they’re fighting.
So why didn’t I see that the night of the gala?
I glance over at him.
Did I really make him feel that way? But then I consider his comments from a few hours ago when I suggested I could do the job on my own. There had been... disdain in his voice.
“The fuck you can. There’s more to it than just walking around an office. Hate to say it, but you’re not sufficiently educated to handle this on your own.”Something tells me that his reaction wasn’t completely about my professional skills, but more to do with his feelings about me.
How did this go so wrong?
* * *
“What room do you want?”JP asks once we’re done touring the penthouse. And I use the wordtouringloosely. JP tossed his arm around, telling me exactly where “everything” was while I gazed at the luxurious suite I’d be living in for the next two weeks.
The exterior walls of the penthouse are made up entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a breathtaking view of the San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. The floors are beautiful gray-stained wood, accented with plush rugs and pristine, white furniture. There are pictures of buildings on the walls and I recognize a few that I’ve visited in LA. These must all belong to Cane Real Estate. And the kitchen... oh, it’s beautiful with state-of-the-art appliances, marble countertops, and a kitchen island that seems bigger than my entire apartment combined.
Two weeks here will be no problem.
If only my company was more agreeable.
“I don’t mind. Whichever is fine,” I say, especially since both rooms are the same, from what JP said. If one was bigger, I could clearly take the smaller room.
“Just choose one,” he says in an exasperated tone.
“Fine, the right one.”
“Good.” JP rolls his bag across the wooden floors and calls out, “Ronda ordered us dinner. Should be here any moment. Just start eating whenever you want.” And then he’s down the hall and out of sight.
Well, I guess that’s that.
I roll my suitcase in the opposite direction, toward my room. I’m determined to not let his bad attitude affect me.
When I reach my room, I set my purse down and flop back on the king-sized bed, which is decorated in white linens and soft gray pillows. A girl could seriously get used to this. Now I kind of know how it felt to be Lottie when she first moved in with Huxley. Too bad for me, this is only for two weeks.
I reach for my purse and pull out my phone. I press on Lottie’s name and put the phone on speaker, listening to it ring.
“Gah! Did you make it to San Francisco?” Lottie says when she answers the phone.
“I did and, oh my God, Lottie, this place is so beautiful. I can’t get over it.”
“I’m so jealous. I told Hux when you two are done there, we need to at least take a weekend trip, because he was showing me pictures of the penthouse and it looks like a total dream.”
“It is. I can’t wait to see what kind of views I have in the morning.”
“And the flight was good?”
“As good as it could be.”
