“I need those.”
“These are mine,” he says, moving to his feet.
The man already has at least six pairs, but now is not the time to argue. I cut my losses and hightail it out of there.
“Don’t go far, Pepper. The appetizer was delicious, but the entrée is going to be orgasmic.” I hear him call behind me.
I dash to the stairwell and race down the stairs. My coworkers gape at me when I burst through the door and frantically race towards my cubicle.
Lloyd steps out of his office, directly in my path. He grasps my shoulders, preventing me from barreling into him. “Pepper, are you okay?”
“Umm… I’m not feeling too well,” I answer breathlessly.
“Take the rest of the day off.”
“Thank you.”
“You two better have a damn good reason for being here,” I say, annoyed at their interruption.
“Do you mind cleaning your face?” Jensen asks in disgust. “I can’t have a conversation with you looking like that.”
I take the handkerchief from my breast pocket and wipe my mouth. “Happy?”
“Anyone could’ve walked in and witnessed your unethical behavior,” Jensen chastises.
“No one in this building is brave enough to waltz into my office without permission.” I saunter around the desk.
“You’re going to start a shitstorm,” he warns.
“You think?” Drew says, flopping into the chair, overcome with another shriek of laughter.
“Give your caterwauling a goddamn rest,” I bark, glaring at my younger brother.
“Well, man, this shit is hilarious.”
I punch him in the chest, resorting to physical violence to shut him up—the same tactic used when he got on my nerves as children. The only difference is, he doesn’t run crying to our mother for refuge anymore. He’s six years younger than me. Drew dropped out of college during his sophomore year. He was supposed to follow in Jensen’s footsteps and become a lawyer but chose to pursue a music career instead. Now he’s an award-winning singer and songwriter.
The three of us couldn’t be more different. Jensen is stern and serious. He has a stick so far stuck up his ass it’s practically protruding from his skull. Drew, on the other hand, is a jokester and life of the party. He never takes anything seriously. Me, well, I’m the bad-tempered asshole.
“Hey, that hurt, man,” he whines.
I’d love to smash Jensen’s face in, but we both wound up in the hospital seeking medical attention after our last altercation. He was twenty-three at the time, and I was eighteen. Dad was a boxer in high school and believed our disputes should be settled with fists, but our mother made us promise never to fight again.
“Starting a relationship with an intern is a conflict of interest,” Jensen cuts in.
“Who said anything about a relationship?”
“So you plan to use that poor girl?” he sputters.
“For God’s sake, Jensen, spare me your moral tirade!” I bellow. “I don’t want to fucking hear it!”
“Soooo,” Drew drawls. “She’s a cutie. Does she have any sisters or maybe cousins, perhaps?”
“No,” I deadpan. “If you two aren’t here for any other reason than to piss me off, you’ll have to excuse me.”
“This is an intervention,” Jensen announces, crossing his arms.
“Is that so?” I arch an eyebrow.
