“We made it," he says, and I open my eyes. He slides his hand off of mine, but before he steps off, he leans in close to me. “I told you that you would be okay,” he says, then he winks at me and steps forward. When we get off the elevator, I instantly feel better when I see Julian's fiancée, Sawyer, walking toward us, arms outstretched. She takes me in for a long hug, and I hug her right back.
“I'm really glad you're here,” I tell her. She gives me another squeeze.
“Likewise. It's nice to have another female around. Although, I still wish there was another way for this to all happen, and I wish I could think of it, but I can’t. So I'm just gonna tell you again how fucking badass I think you are, and I just want to let you know that I trust all three of them with my life. Even Brooks. They're not gonna let anything happen to you, and neither am I,” she says. I squeeze her hand.
“Thank you,” I tell her. Julian comes around the corner, his hand stretched out for us.
“Breakfast is set up in the dining room. Why don't we go have some food, and then we can talk business?” he asks. I nod my head. He leads the way, and we all fall in line behind him. I wait to see what Brooks’s move is going to be, but he waits, his eyes trained on me with a slight smile on his lips, like he's testing me. Or maybe he feels like I'm testing him? I'm really not sure. All I know is that I've only been with this man three times, and each time feels like more of a mindfuck.
“After you, ma'am,” he says with a fake tip of the hat. I turn and follow Julian down through the hall past the kitchen and into his massive dining room. The table is set up like it's a damn state dinner. Champagne, every juice imaginable, huge platters of fruit, yogurt, pancakes, all different kinds of breakfast meats, some sort of fancy egg dish, and hot steaming coffee already set out. My mouth waters.
“Please, sit,” Julian says. “If there's something else that we can get you, please let me know. I have the chef working until eleven today, so he's able to whip up pretty much anything your heart desires.” But as my eyes scour the huge table in front of me, I laugh out loud.
“I think this will just about cover it,” I say. We sit down. A moment later, Keaton walks in. He greets all of us, grabs a fork and stabs a couple pancakes, throws them onto his plate, and sits down. I watch the three of them go back and forth, laughing and talking, and I look around at the life they are so accustomed to. Their reality is so different from any other person that I know—and from literally 99% of the world's population. They have everything they could ever want and more, but yet, here they are, sitting at this table with me, plotting how to tear it all down.
It's not to say that they're going to be living on the street when this is over, but their family name might never be the same. Life as they know it will be completely different in the eyes of the public and in the eyes of the entire world. But the fact that they are all here gives me hope that there are still good people in the world. There are some things that money can't buy, and there are some people that can't be bought, and I think I'm sitting in a room full of them right now.
“You get used to them eventually,” Sawyer says with a wink. “But this…” she says, motioning to the table and the room, “this I don’t think I will ever get used to.”
I smile and nod, taking a sip of my juice.
“Yeah,” I say. “This is a lot.” We chat for a little bit longer before Julian finally claps his hands together at the head of the table.
“We should probably get to planning,” he says. “Just leave your plates and things. I gave the staff the day off today because I wanted to make sure that this meeting was completely confidential.” We nod and finish eating, then everyone settles back into their chairs and waits for him to start talking. He clears his throat. “Now, we're told that the job is going to be posted this evening, Brooks. What can you tell us about it?” Eyes are on him, leaning back in his chair confidently.
“My guy told me that before they post it, they typically already have someone in mind. So normally, the job posting is only up for about twenty-four hours. The post is mostly up in case of an audit or anything like that. They have to be able to show that they did post the job. So, some key things to keep in mind: One, there’s a chance they already have someone lined up for it. If so, this probably isn’t going to work,” he says so cavalier that I want to deck him in his stupid pretty face. I grit my teeth. “Two, it requires some specific assets,” he goes on. “Like, being dumb, for example. Whoever gets the job basically has to come across as a bimbo.”
“Brooks!” Keaton says with a glare. Julian puts his hand to his face, but Brooks just shrugs.
“Trust me,” he goes on, “the last thing that my father or any of his cronies want this woman to be is intelligent. They also don't want someone who appears to have a lot of connections. They want someone who is sort of a loner. They definitely don't want someone who has someone else looking out for them,” he says, and I swear, in that moment, he gives me a look. I just don't know what it means.
“I think he's right,” I interject, and I feel all eyes on me. “After talking to some of the women who used to have the position,all these traits seem to be sort of textbook for their sick little game—besides the whole intelligence part,” I say, shooting him a look. “There are some men who wouldn’t know intelligence if it whacked them across the head. And after centuries of not being able to walk through the same doors as men, women have had to find other ways around, like pretending to be dumb in order to appear on the same level as the men around them.” The room is silent, but I see Sawyer gnawing on her lip, trying not to smile. I turn back to Julian and Keaton, as if they are the adults in the room. “I can't look like someone would notice if something happened to me. I can't have close family and friends. Otherwise, they're in danger of being outed. And I can't look like I have someone who's smart enough to offer me some sort of legal advice when getting a job. As much as I hate to admit it, I think Brooks is probably right.” He shoots me a look, but it's more serious than the rest of them have been. I can't read this one either.
“Alright, unintelligent, disconnected‘bimbo’it is, I guess,” Keaton says with a disgusted look on his face. “I really can't believe we're having this discussion right now. We're basically building a woman that my father intends on using to gain better business deals with his disgusting friends.”
“I know, Keat,” Julian says. “This whole thing is so fucked up, and the three of us are gonna need some serious therapy after this, but we have to keep these people in mind. All the women he hurt over all these years. Your mom, Brooks. Our mom. We have to keep the end game in mind.” Then Julian turns to me. “Are you sure you're up for this?” I nod slowly.
“I know I can play this role,” I say, “but how do we know that I'm gonna even get an interview?” Brooks strokes his beard a few times, then he looks at me.
“Let me take care of that part,” he says. Julian raises his eyebrow, and I can tell that Keaton wants to say something, but no one does. Instead, Julian just nods slowly.
“Okay, Brooks,” he says, “you're up. Let's make this shit happen.”
“Awesome,” Brooks says.
“So what next?” I ask.
“Well, I think we should do a mock interview,” Brooks says. I glare at him.
“My entire life is interviewing people,” I say. “I definitely don't need to practice that.” But that cocky obnoxiously perfect smirk comes across his face.
“That might be true," he says, “but you're the one who's doing the interviewing. You're hardly ever the one who is being interviewed. Am I right?” I narrow my eyes at him. I know what he's trying to do. He wants to make me look like I'm incompetent, or maybe he's just getting off on making me look like a fool. Either way, I'm not falling for it. But just as I'm about to interject, I hear Julian's calm, cool, collected voice.
“As much as I also hate to admit it, he might be right,” he says. I draw in a long, slow breath. If Brooks Everett wants a fight, then that's what he's gonna get. And I don’t think he's ready for the girl that's coming for him.
I turn to him slowly and fold my hands on top of the table.
“Fine,” I say. “Interview me.” His tongue juts out to wet his lips, and I swear I feel myself getting wet. The flip from pissed to hot and bothered is giving me mental whiplash. How does hedothat? I squeeze my legs together to get rid of the sensation, and I clear my throat. I tilt my head and give him an expectant look. He crosses his own arms on the table and leans forward.
