“I knew it! You're trying to steal my boyfriend,” Amber yelled at me, rushing into the room. “That’s Owen Frost, and he's mine!”
4
Owen
What was that girl doing in my bedroom?I fumed as I stalked out of the penthouse. I paced around in the elevator lobby. I was still shirtless. I didn't even have my shoes on. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened.
“Look who's back!”
“Belle?” I said.
My older sister leaned casually against the wall of the elevator. She had my coloring, and though she didn't quite have my height, she was still tall. When we were kids, she would be the one to take care of me and my younger brothers because my own mother couldn’t be bothered. She had disappeared for several years and shown up again last Christmas. My brothers and I were all afraid she would leave again one day. Therefore we would do anything and everything to keep her happy.
Belle, of course, knew this, and like any big sister, she took full advantage. I had decided she enjoyed seeing how far she could push us.
Belle smirked. “Is that how you decided to introduce yourself to the contestants? You're going to be a very distracting judge,” she said, motioning me inside the elevator.
“I amnotjudging. And where are all my clothes?” I asked as she pressed the button for the floor below.
“In your other condo,” she said.
“You moved all my stuff?”
“We needed the bigger condo forThe Great Christmas Bake-Off. You're one single man. You don't even have a girlfriend. There's no reason for you to own such a large penthouse.”
“But I need it!” I protested as I slipped on my shirt.
My sister glared at me over her shoulder. “I think you'll just have to survive in the two-story condo with the custom marble accents for the next four weeks.”
“We agreed that Romance Creative could have one of the unused lower level floors for the studio space and the smaller condo for the contestants' housing. My penthouse wasn't anywhere in the negotiations,” I grumbled.
“Well, they can't live here,” Belle said as I followed her into the condo she had been staying in the past few months.
Dana Holbrook and Gunnar Svensson, the owners of Romance Creative, the reality-TV production company behind the bake-off, were at the dining room table.
“There's our judge!” Dana exclaimed. I glowered at her. She smirked.
“No,” I said flatly. “I have squatters in my penthouse. They're probably up there making cupcakes and gingerbread houses. I refuse to be a judge.”
“But I already promised the advertisers there was going to be a Frost brother,” Penny McCarthy said, smiling up at me. She was Garrett Svensson’s girlfriend and had organized the Thanksgiving feast we’d had yesterday. Garrett could be vindictive at the best of times. I was sure he wasn't happy his girlfriend had immediately gone back to Manhattan to work. Best to tread carefully. I didn't need Garrett Svensson on my case.
“Seriously, you're going to try and convince me to be a judge after I had to listen to your obnoxious cousins at that horribleTechBizholiday party?” I said to Dana.
“Vanity Ragneeds a Frost brother,” Penny interjected.
“Surely you would rather have someone with baking experience,” I said.
“I've been running analyses,” Penny said, “and our magazine will have an estimated forty-percent-higher engagement if you're in the bake-off.”
“Just do it,” Belle coaxed.
“Will I get a cut of that profit?” I grumbled.
Dana raised an eyebrow. “I'm on a group chat with my cousins and brother, and they were all crowing about how a Holbrook was going to be on top of theTechBizlist. Again. I believe,” she said, scrolling through her tablet and pulling up the previous year's list, “that your company was not given high marks for coolness, approachability of their CEO, and bonding experiences.”
“How about,” Penny said, looking up at me, “if we throw you guys a holiday party! That would really put you on the map.”
“I don't know if the bake-off is really the demographic we go after,” I said. “We recruit women, yes, but our employees mainly consist of stereotypical tech bros.”
