"You're going to turn into Ida," McKenna continued. "Hobbling around Harrogate, making lewd comments, and telling everyone about the time you banged a billionaire."
"Archer's not like that," I said defiantly.
"Of course he is. Men like that don't become powerful billionaires by being nice," she said, her nails tapping against the glass like some sort of evil fairy.
I turned abruptly and went back upstairs. Through the window, I watched McKenna stalk off down the street. As soon as she disappeared from view, I threw open the windows to try to catch a cross breeze. My apartment was boiling hot. The air outside was still, and I fanned myself.
Still hot, I tore off my clothes and my bra. The underwire had ripped out and was poking me. Of course I couldn't afford a new one. I had to mute all the banking apps because I would continuously receive notifications that I was overdue on payment. The money Archer had paid me was already swallowed up.
I threw on a silky spaghetti-strap undershirt and walked around in it and panties, painting touch-ups over the next few hours and listening to music. I was so wrapped up in the work, I didn't even hear the footsteps on the stairs.
32
Archer
All the talk of dicks during the art retreat made me want one thing. But I already had plans that afternoon.
"Are you two ready for the protest?" I asked Otis and Theo. They nodded happily.
"I have my sign!"
I was used to stirring the pot then vamoosing. But now I was going to have the opportunity to experience the fruits of my labor.
City hall was several blocks away. When I parked the car, Otis and Theo grabbed their signs to join the dozens of blond-haired kids marching in the square. Remy was in the center of the mass with a bullhorn. Several news crews had cameras, and reporters were out. Hunter stood to the side, arms crossed, sunglasses on. I snickered to myself as I sat back on one of the stone planters under the tree and watched, sipping on the drink I had snagged from Hazel's restaurant.
A car roared up and screeched to a halt on the street. Greg stormed out, coming over to me.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"Why are you blaming me?"
"Anytime there's trouble afoot, it's usually your doing."
"I just helped them make the signs," I told him, trying to keep the smile off my face. Perpetually stressed from managing a multibillion-dollar investment firm and chasing after his wayward younger brothers like yours truly, Greg was always on a hair trigger. As much as I felt it was my duty to help him release his anger, I still needed him to sign off on the financing for my convention center.
"Do you take anything seriously?" Greg asked, voice cold.
I gestured dramatically with my drink. "Dude, Garrett wanted this."
"Oh." Greg was momentarily speechless. "Did he say why?"
"All part of his master plan with Hunter."
If he were Mace, I would have messed up Greg's carefully parted hair. But Greg was grouchy during the best of times.
My older brother shook his head. "I can't believe you're so shortsighted and immature."
I snorted. "Please. I always have an ulterior motive. I'm thinking bigger than the convention center. We need the city to sell us that strip mall site."
"This is not going to make them think favorably of you," Greg warned.
"Actually, this is going to ensure they give me the land," I said. Greg was skeptical.
I continued. "The popsicle fiasco makes the City of Harrogate look petty. Once the hate mail flows in, they will want to make nice. In exchange for staging a photo op with New York State's cutest children, I will suggest they sell me the strip mall site for a fair price."
"That is such a terrible idea. How you even managed to successfully grow and maintain a multibillion-dollar hotel group is beyond me."
He stood up, and I jumped up after him. "Just hear me out—"
