Asshole.
But Julian and Keaton seem to have their shit together.
And what’s more, they seem to want the whole story as much as I do.
The numbers on the screen tick by painfully slow until, finally, I reach the eighty-seventh floor. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding when the doors finally open, and I follow Julian’s instructions.
Take a left out of the elevator and follow signs for suite 114. Knock when you get to the door.
I do as I’m told, making my way down the maze of a hallway until I get to the door. I raise my hand to knock, but the door opens abruptly, and I see Keaton standing inside. He smiles, but it feels forced, and for a moment, I realize how stupid I am for doing this.
Hey, Wren. Go to this unmarked building alone.
Find this unmarked suite where three men you don’t know are waiting for you.
Oh, and don’t tell anyone.
And here I am.
Zero survival skills.
But it’s too late now. Keaton opens the door wider for me, but before we can speak, I can hear the rumbling of two deep voices arguing back and forth.
Keaton presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows.
“It gets a bit bumpy when all three of us are together,” he says, taking my coat and laying it on a chair.
“Three? You mean the other brother finally showed?” I ask. He chuckles.
“Yeah, he fit us in between Tahiti or Fiji or wherever the fuck he was going this week,” he says. “Follow me.”
He leads me farther into the suite, which can only be described as an office graveyard. Old office furniture is piled up in a corner, and nothing but a water cooler remains in the room. Everything is old and musty. I can’t imagine that anything that has to do with Everett Enterprises ever happened here. There is a single conference room in the back, and when we walk in, the voices quiet.
“Wren,” Julian says, walking toward me and outstretching his hand. I shake it with a curt smile. “Thank you so much for coming. This is Brooks,” he says, giving his younger brother an eye. He scoots to the side, and that’s when I see him for the first time.
He’s sitting in an office chair at the conference table, one ankle resting on the other knee. His chocolate-colored waves sit perfectly disheveled on his head, with tan skin and thick dark eyebrows to boot. He’s wearing a suit jacket with a white shirt underneath, but no tie, and his top few buttons are undone. He and Julian resemble each other, but Brooks has a sharper nose and bright hazel eyes. Eyes that happen to be boring holes into me at the moment. He narrows them on me, but I refuse to crumble. This is the man who has left his brothers out to dry for the last few weeks. Who couldn’t be bothered to share the familyburden. Who didn’t care to learn about the atrocities being carried out under the guise of his family name.
No, there will be no crumbling today. Unless it’s by him.
“Well, well, well,” he says, pushing to his feet and walking around the table slowly as he sizes me up. “If it isn’t Lois Lane.”
I grit my teeth as he makes his way to me, sticking out a hand.
“Well, well, well,” I retort, “if it isn’t the mythical third Everett brother. I was beginning to think you didn’t actually exist.”
Keaton snorts out a laugh behind me, and I watch as Brooks’s eyebrows jump ever the slightest bit. I take his hand firmly and shake it, not letting my eyes shift from his. He will break before I do.
He lets go but keeps his eyes trained on me as Julian holds his hands out, inviting us all to sit.
I smooth out my skirt and take a seat, crossing one leg over the other. I’m sitting to Julian’s left with Keaton across from me. Brooks is at the other end of the table, sitting down again, leaned back in his chair, with this pompous look on his stupid pretty face. I roll my eyes and turn my attention to Julian and Keaton—the grown-ups in the room.
“Thank you again, Wren,” Julian starts, “for coming to meet us today.”
“Of course,” I say. “Although, I’ll admit, when I got to the building, I was a little suspicious. This place doesn’t exactly scream Everett Enterprises.”
“Is that why you’re doing this?” Brooks asks. I whip my head to him.
“Shut up, Brooks,” Keaton groans. “Jesus Christ.”
