Bad Boss by Stella Rhys

16

JULIAN

“How is everything so far, gentlemen?”

I didn’t glance up from my phone to answer the waitress. Lukas and Emmett had it covered, and I was vaguely annoyed that she’d just asked the same question thrice in ten minutes. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence when the three of us went out for lunch, but that didn’t make it any more tolerable for me.

I was also particularly on edge thanks to both the content of my texts, and the topic of conversation Lukas and Emmett had been on for far too long now. I could understand up to six minutes on the subject of home décor, but not a second more. It was a miracle that Lukas even had Emmett engaged in stories about furnishing his new home in the Hamptons with Lia. Then again, he was talking about throwing a party in it, so that offered at least some explanation.

“We should be done with everything around Lia’s birthday,” Lukas said. “So it can be a birthday-housewarming combo party.”

“Christ, you sound like you drive a mini van and shit on the refs at your kids’ Little League games.”

“That’s actually the goal at some point, minus the ref abuse,” Lukas smirked. “By the way, you should bring Sara to the party,” he added, looking pleased with the look I directed at him.

“You should stop letting your girlfriend influence the things we talk about.”

“That suggestion was actually all mine, though I won’t deny that Lia’s been rooting for you two to become some sort of thing. Which is strange, honestly, because she loves Sara, but you,” he paused, “not so much.”

“I would say the feeling is mutual, but I’d prefer you not throw a tantrum in public.”

“Good call. Any decent man would defend his woman,” Lukas said. “I’m sure you’ve been well acquainted with the feeling lately. Something tells me you don’t particularly enjoy watching the Roths slobber all over Sara.”

“You’re not incorrect.”

I didn’t enjoy it, and I definitely didn’t enjoy whatever the fuck had happened Monday night at the pool. It was still plaguing me, and once again, I was second-guessing whether Turner Roth was in fact worth the trouble.

Abandoning this project would have been a fair idea to consider three weeks ago, when I’d yet to make progress with them. Now, with a date set for our trip to Biarritz, and the purchase finally looking serious, it was an absurd notion. If someone had told me three weeks ago that I’d consider ceasing negotiations for the sake of anyone besides my family or myself, I’d have told that person to fuck himself.

But thanks to Monday, I was having doubts.

I’d screwed up that night.

I had made sure to keep my every sense trained tightly on Sara to guarantee intervention before Turner so much as irked her. But I’d failed in that regard. I let her fall into some dark place at the end of the evening, and days later I was still working on the rage I felt over it.

Rubbing my jaw, I set my phone aside, realizing my texts had become ineloquent since I started thinking about Sara.

“Who are you texting, anyway?” Emmett asked as Lukas excused himself to take a call.

“No one.”

“Well, no one sure has you worked up,” Emmett said, eyeing my phone when it lit with a new message. I removed it from the table, but it was too late, he’d seen. “You have got to be shitting me,” he said, his entire body going slack with disbelief. I glared.

“Mind your own business, Emmett.”

“How the fuck is this not my business?” he asked, losing all humor in his voice. “I thought you were putting an official end to that chapter in your life.”

“Trust me, I am. Do you not see me trying to sell that resort?”

Emmett held onto his jaw as he shook his head and sneered. “You know, it’s fucking crazy. You’re a hard-ass ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time, and then the other one percent – ”

“Your math is off.”

“Shut up. Listen to me. I don’t ever give you shit, Julian. I’m as easy as they come. You know that,” Emmett said earnestly. “So when I say that you need to cut that crazy person off, I fucking mean it. You don’t owe anyone anything. Aside from your family – your real family – you shouldn’t have to break your back for anyone.”

I was silent for a moment as I suppressed the urge to lay into my little brother.

I wanted to tell him that he didn’t possess anything resembling a shred of responsibility in his life, so he wouldn’t understand. Save for his dog, he was a man of leisure living off minority interest in the Victorian Hotel, and a couple nightclubs in the city. He’d made some good early investments off my advice, and since, he’d held no real job, had no serious relationships, and generally coasted from day to day.

I wanted to say all that.

But then I remembered the fucking disaster I left him with eleven years ago, and the fact that he didn’t actually coast by. He was stuck being everyone’s rock while I was gone, and I’d be a complete piece of shit to indulge myself by dropping those low blows on him.

“Move past it,” I simply said.

“How much money are you sending this time?”

“I said move past it.”

Emmett blew out a harsh breath of air, but after rubbing his entire face several times, he inhaled, exhaled, and he was done.

I always regarded that like a fucking magic trick every time. How he managed to move on from things so quickly was beyond me, but I envied him for it.

“Fine, well now you owe me a couple minutes talking about Sara.”

“I can’t at all grasp why you’re so interested in this topic.”

“Well, I haven’t seen you actually invested in a girl in a long fucking time, and the sooner you settle down and have kids, the sooner Mom stops bugging me about it.” Emmett shoved a handful of fries in his mouth. “You gonna take her on a real date anytime soon?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“I see her every day at work. What more do I need?”

Emmett choked on his food then stared like maybe I’d made a joke.

“Wait. Is that a serious question?” he asked. I didn’t respond, so he jabbed his finger at me when Lukas returned and slid back into his seat. “He just said he’ll never ask Sara out, because he already sees her at work every day.”

Lukas burst out laughing. “Jesus. Yeah, that sounds about right.”

I looked away from the table, the overbearing waitress suddenly looking like a good conversation partner to me. Unsurprisingly, she caught my eye and immediately flounced over.

“Is everything okay here?” she asked me.

“Yes, I’ll just take the check, please,” I said, prompting simultaneous groans from Emmett and Lukas. The waitress laughed with them as they informed her that I was no fun, and to put a few bottles of champagne on the bill before handing it to me. When she disappeared in a flurry of giggles, I returned my eyes to them. “You know, you’re both fairly intolerable on a regular basis, but when your forces combine, it can really clear a room.”

“You love us,” Emmett said, chucking at me a French fry that I caught and tossed back.

“Enjoy the rest of your lunch, gentlemen,” I said to their stupid, grinning faces.

After settling up the check, I made a sharp line for the exit. I’d almost escaped when Emmett caught up with me at the door.

“Hey.”

“What?”

He laughed at my terseness.

“Listen, do me a favor, alright? Don’t… text ol’ Crazy Person back till after Sunday. Give yourself a break from that shit, and just enjoy the good things going on right now, like the fact that you got a date set for this trip, the hard part is over, and you may or may not have a girl you’re interested in. Focus on just the good. For the next five days. That’s all I ask of you.”

I smirked. “So live like you, you mean.”

“Yes. Why the fuck else do you think I’m always so happy?” Emmett asked, holding his arms out wide. “If I like something, man, I let myself have it – without stressing myself out about the possible consequences.”

“That’s incredibly reckless, I’m sure you know.”

“Of course. That’s why I’m not you. I’m not a fuckin’ workaholic billionaire,” Emmett laughed. “But since you already are, you might as well give yourself a couple days to actually chill and indulge in the things you want. I’m not telling you to take a whole week of sick days and bail on work, I’m just telling you to relax for once. Don’t force yourself to put out all the little fires. Just let them burn for a bit,” he said. “Till Sunday – how about that? Then after our big fat Father’s Day brunch, you can go back to being ol’ No Fun Julian.”

“You really sold it with the last line.”

Emmett grinned. “Right?”

I had to laugh. “See you Sunday.”

“Just think about it!” he called after me as I stepped onto the sidewalk.