Page 48 of The Boss Situation

The Calloways are testing me now. They’d been waiting for me to make my move, and I finally did. The three of them are definitely up to something. Tonight could be a setup. They might pull off a media blitz to create the story they want everyone to see. It’s totally possible.

My phone buzzes, signaling that my car has arrived. I slip it into my pocket and head out. As we drive away, I pull a flask from my inside pocket and take a sip of whiskey. Skipping tonight isn’t an option.

Thirty minutes later, the car stops outside Park Towers, a towering high-rise on Billionaires’ Row, filled with fancy penthouses on the higher floors. It has the best view of Central Park in the entire city. Photographers snap nonstop shots of me as I adjust my cuff links. Tomorrow, the media will definitely post pictures of me arriving alone.

When the news broke on Monday that I was helping Josh Lustre, more Blind Items surfaced about Billie and me being seen together. The story quickly turned into me sleeping with her to gather info for Josh. I’ve officially become a villain made from lies, the kind of character I root against in a movie.

Dealing with dating rumors wasn’t part of my plan. The world knows we can’t stand each other—a fact that’s been splashed across gossip columns like a badge of dishonor. Still, I’ll play every card I’m dealt to my advantage, even the wild ones—because in this game, you either play hard or go home.

Let’s go,Calloways.

My heart rate is steady as I step onto the elevator, the shiny metal doors sliding shut behind me. Weston assured me multiple times that Billie wouldn’t be here due to prior commitments. I just hope I can trust him because I really don’t want to run into her. It’s best if we keep our distance.

Security greets me in the foyer, which is standard for events like this. I check in, and my name is crossed off a list before I’m allowed into the penthouse.

As I enter, the music from the quartet and pianist fills the air. Chatter floats around the room, all bathed in a warm yellow glow that makes everyone look a little more glamorous than usual.

One thing about Weston: he knows how to throw a party. His penthouse was designed with one goal in mind—entertaining.

Before his first marriage, he hosted wild get-togethers, inviting A-list celebrities, supermodels, and world leaders. What happened at Weston’s stayed within these walls. It’s always been the code. I hope tonight follows that same tradition.

I’m happy to grab the room’s attention as I make my way to the wet bar, weaving through clusters of laughter and clinking glasses. There’s no line, and I could use a drink.

A cute bartender with fiery-red hair greets me with a smile as I approach.

“Hi there! Would you like to try our signature cocktail, created just for tonight?” she asks.

“I’d love one,” I reply, returning her smile, feeling the buzz of the party.

Less than a minute later, she slides a vibrant blue drink my way, adding a splash of grenadine and a cherry on top.

I take a sip. “Wow, this is fantastic,” I say, surprised by the burst of flavor.

“Glad you like it! It’s called Revenge,” she explains, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just because the water is clear doesn’t mean sharks aren’t lurking.”

“Ah,” I say, licking my lips, the sweet and sour flavors lingering. “Makes sense.”

“I’ve always heard Revenge is best served cold.” She winks just as Easton approaches.

He speaks to me first, clearly aware of the current boundaries. “How’s it taste?”

“It’s sweet, going down. Highly recommend,” I respond with a smirk.

He meets my gaze, his expression turning serious. “Yeah, because you’re an asshole with balls of steel, I now owe Weston a hundred thousand dollars. I didn’t think you’d show your face. For once, I wish you’d been sensible. You know Weston loves chaos. Apparently, you do too.”

“You bet against me?” I laugh. “You deserve to lose that money, Easton. Sorry, not sorry.”

“Shit. You showed up,” Brody hisses as he slips into line behind Easton, his voice filled with disbelief. “Fuck. Now I’m going to have to pay Weston.”

“Not you too?” I glance between them. “Unbelievable.”

“Ishouldbeat your ass for being here,” Brody warns, his tone direct.

Even though he’s not joking, I’m not scared. Honestly, for all the hell I’m giving Billie, I probably deserve it.

Brody is ex-military, built like a tank with muscles and tattoos that tell stories of battles fought and won. He’s the perfect bodyguard for the Calloways—fearless with loyalty that runs deeper than blood. Plus, he’s family, so keeping his cousins safe is personal. He’s risked his life for them more than once, and somehow, against all odds, they’re still safe and sound in a world that can be anything but forgiving.

“You might be seeing a lot of me,” Brody admits as Easton grabs his drink and stands beside me.

---