Page 3 of Strictly Yours

“Stop,” she says, her tone signifying that this is not up for discussion.

My shoulders drop as I pull out my hand, keeping the money inside my pocket. It’s not like I’m in a position to argue aboutfree money. My bank account has been on life support for as long as I can remember. “Thank you.”

She smiles and hugs me one more time. “I gotta go. Have a great time. Enjoy the city, but be careful. Don’t be so trusting. This isn’t Vermont. A healthy dose of skepticism goes a long way out here.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say as I give her one last squeeze. “And please don’t spend your week fighting with Greg. Go topless on that secluded beach I found for you. It should help.”

She laughs as her cheeks blush a little, finally showing some color. She’s so pale she might be mistaken for a resident of Transylvania while going through security.

I watch her rush through the crowd to catch up to Greg. They both turn and wave to me before heading in.

I take a deep breath as I watch them disappear.

I’m on my own now. Big Apple here I come.

First stop…

Shit!

I look around and see the address on the floor, a few feet away. I quickly rush over and grab it from under someone’s shoe before Greg sees and comes back to call me irresponsible and flaky in addition to flighty.

First stop… Strickland Innovations Group. 480 Eastmont Center, Floor 47.

It’s time to get the key to my home for the next two weeks and see this mean, grumpy boss that my sister is always complaining about.

And maybe, just maybe, put him in his damn place.

CHAPTER TWO

Logan

When the clock hits nine, I loosen my tie. It is my birthday after all. I should allow myself some luxury.

Forty-three. I still have the energy and vitality of a twenty-year-old and if it weren’t for the gray hairs meeting me in the mirror every morning, I wouldn’t believe I was already this old.

The sun is just about finished its beautiful descent behind me, and as usual, I missed it all. When you’ve seen one New York City sunset, you’ve seen them all. The world’s greatest city is sprawled out on the other side of my spotless floor-to-ceiling windows, lit up in all its glory, but I don’t tear my eyes away from my three computer screens to admire it.

Not tonight.

I’m combing through the financial records of a struggling division named VANTAGE. It stands for Visionary Advancement of Next-gen Technology And Growth Engine. Every advisor I have has told me to cut it loose, but there’s something in my guttelling me to keep it. Thirty-three employees would be laid off. Jobs lost. Families ruined.

But still, the project is bleeding money. Eva is a virtual avatar that’s supposed to help employees integrate new technologies into their workflows. Only, no one is using it. And it’s costing us a fortune.

I sigh as I scan the records, hoping I see something that prevents me from making that tough call.

My secretary Cassandra steps into the doorway and lightly taps on the doorframe.

“I’m heading out, Mr. Strickland.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I glance at her between swipes of the PDF. She has her laptop bag slung over her shoulder and a little white box in her hand. She walks over, places it on my desk, and then retreats like it’s a bomb about to go off.

“I know you don’t like anyone making a fuss,” she says, “but it is your birthday. So, happy birthday.”

A heaviness hits me as I open the box and see one lone cupcake sitting inside. Now I regret snapping at her over the Jones’ report this afternoon. I can be such an asshole without even trying. It comes so damn naturally.

“Dark chocolate bourbon ganache from The Wellness Bakery,” she says shyly. “Just in case you feel like celebrating after you finish with those financial records.”

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