Page 38 of Rival to the Billionaire

I hear Quen grunt and groan. I know he hates that story.

"Oh, give me a fuckin—I was a big fan of Korean BBQ at the time, okay? And just because a man gets arrested for singing outside a woman's bedroom window in the rain doesn't mean he's smitten, bro. Okay?"

"Agreed," I say, laughing. "I think. You've never really been the same since that Sarah Rhys fiasco. But seriously. I don't know how you find the time to jump from one place to the next on a whim. I'm surprised Alton hasn't cut the marketing budget with all your shenanigans." I smile. "And that Carmina hasn't cut off your balls for not keeping her in the loop."

"Shit," he swears. "Carmina… Yeah, dude. She's been a bug up my ass lately. You know she wants me to come back to Seattle immediately."

"Probably because your dick is often the cause of international scandal. And that is her job. She's the Director of Public Relations, man. You're her job."

I can almost hear Quen shrug on the other end of the line. "She doesn't know how to embrace the good times in life. It's like the woman's constipated with ambition and always running in that work-shoe. I swear, it's like she's a corporate ghost haunting my every move. It's driving me crazy."

I laugh. "Driving you crazy…or driving you horny?"

I start laughing harder when I hear his groan.

"Dude, that's so not funny. Carmina is hot, but she has a grip on my balls, and not the good kind of grip. Plus, she's not my type."

"Why? Because she thinks you're a man-whoring lunatic with more balls than brains?"

"No, because I'm not a huge fan of being tied down. I like seeing the world, and sometimes I like meeting women in exotic locations. Not every woman, of course.” He growls. "Anyway, it takes one to know one, Casanova. And speaking of 'man-whoring', I heard you were out of town. Heard you were staying with a certain CIO of a certain Seattle publishing company."

The vein in my temple ticks. "How do you know that?"

"We're twins. We have this mind-reading thing going on. I know when you're keeping secrets from me, Ry."

I grit my teeth as Quen laughs. "I'm focused on business right now. But that doesn't mean I'm keeping secrets."

"Oh yeah? Then how come I didn't know who you were staying with? And I had to call you from a private number just to get you to pick up my call? You usually pick up your cell phone immediately," he says.

"I really don't want to be having this conversation right now."

"I'm not surprised," Quen says thoughtfully. "Of course…if I were secretly wanting to bang my business rival, I guess I'd be keeping my distance from the family too."

"All that fatty beef from the Korean BBQ must be really going to your head, because your logic and reasoning skills are seriously lacking over there in Asia. I realize you're restless, but making up scenarios about me and Jenny is a waste of time."

"Alright, bro. Whatever you say… But, I mean, Jenny's hot. She's been hot. And she's smart as hell, too. You could do worse. Just wanted you to know it looks mighty suspect from my end."

"Well, from my end, the only thing that's 'suspect' is your state of mind. Stay off the women. Quit sucking on those glasses of K-Whiskey." I pause, sobering up. "And stay safe out there, man. Take care of yourself."

"I always do," he says, casual. He pauses, the line going silent for a moment. "And you take care of yourself too. I just got a weird feeling that you're in a rough place."

"I'm not…I'm not in a bad spot," I say. "I'm doing fine. Everything's fine."

"Good."

I nod, even though my brother can't see me. "Good."

"Have a good night. I'll check in on you from Tokyo."

I hang up the phone and look down at the table, thinking about my brother's last words.

I was having a good night until he called, I think.

I take another sip of champagne, and as I go to grab the second glass for Jenny, I notice her. Dancing. With Julian Sabado.

Fuck. Not again.

I've had way too much champagne. And too many jibes from Quentin just now.

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