He snorts. “Of course you don’t. What the hell was I expecting of my robotic older brother?”
“Funny,” I mutter drily.
His humor is anything but funny—it borders on disrespectful—but I let it pass.
“I know, I’m the funny brother and you’re the robotic brother. That kind of our shtick.”
I look at my 6300A and watch as the seconds tick away. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Romiro waves his hand in the air, as if dismissing the idea of even answering me, and instead says, “We should go for drinks tonight.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
I narrow my eyes at him, assessing to see if he might have any head injuries that I don’t know about. “The definition of ‘no’ is used to?—”
“I fucking know what the word means, you asshole.” He shakes his head before saying, “I meant why not?”
“I don’t answer to you, Romiro.”
“That’s not what I said.”
He’s getting annoyed. There’s that distinct lift of the corners of his mouth that he’s always done since he was a young child.
“It’s what you implied,” I say.
“No the fuck it’s not. Besides, all you do is work. It’s not like you have something better to do,” he tries to argue.
“Workisbetter.”
He rolls his eyes, unimpressed, before muttering under his breath, “Workaholic.”
I barely catch the word, but it doesn’t have the effect he thinks it will.
“Your work will still be here when we get back.”
I turn back to answer the next email chain between me and Nestor. “I have a meeting later on.”
“Liar.”
My hands hover over the keys, and I run my tongue over my lower lip, debating whether to kick him out or let him have the fight he’s itching for. “Call me a liar again, Romiro, and you won’t like what happens next.”
He lifts a single blond brow.
“I have a meeting.”
“With who?” Leaning back in my chair, I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose.
Another sentence out his mouth and I’ll remove his vocal cords myself.
“Nestor Vasilios,” I finally tell him.
Romiro’s brows knit together before he asks, “What for? Can’t you cancel?”
I slam my hand down, my desk rattling with the force. “Enough with the damn questions. You’re like a dog with afucking bone who won’t quit. Why do you even want to go out for drinks?”
He pauses, his lips pressed into a thin line, making the scar that runs from one corner of his mouth to the other more prominent. “There’s something that Eli wants to discuss with you.”
