Page 18 of Rival to the Billionaire

The lights, the chaos.

In short?

My worst nightmare.

Now, I'm not a woman known to turn down a good martini. As Derek's Chief of Staff, Happy Hour was regularly one of my favorite parts of the work week. But it was always local, and it was always followed by a meal or a show.

Never before have I traveled to a place like this. It's endless insanity, lights zipping by my eyes, the smells of cheap perfume, cigarettes, and alcohol filling my head.

I think back to the classic scene in The Wizard of Oz, where Dorothy arrives in Oz, the monochromatic outlines of her Kansas life fading away.

There's a similar feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I see the twinkling lights of the hotel ahead as Ryder and I ride up in the private car.

Upon pulling up to the hotel, I see the bellboy waiting with our bags. Along with two familiar faces.

I hop out of the car, practically barreling into Carmina's outstretched arms.

"Wow, Jen! I take it you're surprised?" she asks me.

"I wasn't sure if you were coming or not," I reply to her. "I thought you had to settle some minor PR fires with Quentin."

"You mean, I had to handle the fact that our Chief Marketing Officer has been fucking and fucking-over some of Seattle's most influential types?" She wrinkles her nose and rolls her eyes. "God, some of those women have PR teams. You'd think they'd tell the girls to stay away from the 'Golden God of Publishing’. And his golden dick.”

I nod, thinking of the bane of Carmina's current existence. She's the driven, image-conscious PR director of the Hare & Holeton Publishing Group, and with the golden-cocked, jet-setting Quentin Anderson as a publicity nightmare, the two have been butting heads constantly lately.

Not unlike me and a certain CTO.

I glance over, watching Ryder slink out of the backseat, black shades on, his gaze flicking briefly in my direction.

I turn back to Carmina.

"I know exactly what you mean.” I rotate to the man beside her, to her right. "Alton," I greet Ryder's brother and Chief Financial Officer. "It's been too long since I got to see you out of a boardroom."

"How are you, Jen?" Alton says to me, one hand stuffed in the pocket of his usual suit slacks, the other tapping on his coat. "Is this Vegas weather hot enough for you?"

I laugh and reach for a hug.

The eldest Anderson brother has never been a hugger, but he obliges. As a man of few words—which he prefers to say under his breath—Alton was always the serious, older brother-figure growing up. It's no surprise he's the CFO.

With a background in Finance and Law, the always-suited-up Alton's no-nonsense attitude and clockwork orderly approach makes him well-suited to his job.

And I know there’s only one reason he’s here.

"Do you want a drink?" Carmina asks me, pulling me in close.

I nod, whispering, "Lemme guess… Alton the perfectionist is here to keep an eye on Ryder, is that it?"

"Something like that. And I wouldn't be a good Public Relations Director at this company if I didn't make sure our CFO didn't wring his little brother's neck."

"Okay, so Alton's going to stick around, but what about you? I heard there weren't any hotel rooms within a five-mile radius."

"Oh, there wasn’t. A friend tipped me off, though, to what I could do to secure some rooms. I basically bribed a former PR client at my old job to let me crash in his hotel suite while he's sneaking around with his mistress."

"Carmina!"

Surreptitiously, I glance behind me to see Alton's gaze trained firmly on us. I lower my voice. Carmina shrugs, beaming innocently.

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