Page 76 of Cinderella Is Faking It

good one

Beck:

I’m not just talking about sex.

Blondie:

ok

Another message popped up, but before I had the chance to read it, my laptop was snapped shut. I was going to kill the fucker who- Julian grinned at me, the only person left in the room. “And how’s the Montgomery account doing?”

“You can wipe that grin off your face.” I rolled my eyes at him and shoved out of my chair. “Or you can try putting a ring on her finger yourself.”

We’d obviously had that discussion, but I was the obvious candidate. No children and 4 years younger than him. “You’re so touchy these days,” he mused.

“You never had any interest in how I handled my dating life, excuse me for finding it hard to fess up now just because there’s billions at play.” I cut him a sidelong glance. “It’s progressing across all three categories. If it wasn’t, I’d let you know.”

He chuckled and typed something on his phone. “I think it’s time Del met your family. Let her experience the full Beckett charm. Show her that you’re seriouslycommitted.”

“Absolutely not.”Julian saw Del as a walking gold coin, and I had just gotten to a solid stage with her literally five fucking minutes ago. No fucking around. Just her and me. He’d not screw that up for us. “You have no idea how to handle her.”

“Bring her to barbecue night,” he said, unfazed. “How many drinks and baby pictures of Brody do you think it would take for her to catch baby fever?”

Again, with his bullshit pregnancy strategy. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, more than happy for the excuse to ignore my brother - except, the text was from Brody.

Brody:

omg are you srsly bringing Blondie over?

“That’s a cheap trick,” I huffed, frowning at Julian.

“Can’t back out now or Brody won’t let you hear the end of it. Don’t worry, I’ll be my most charming self.”

* * *

“Beck,I need five minutes of your time.” Jonas, Axent’s CFO sidled up to me at the end of the day as I beelined for the elevator. Despite being a head shorter than me, he didn’t struggle to keep my pace.

“I’m on my way out. This will have to wait until tomorrow,” I replied. I wasn’t postponing my evening plans with Del for yet another discussion about the tax cuts we were angling for in the UK. They’d exited the EU. That meant we could get away with a few paragraph adjustments here and there before starting construction on the new Axent in Newcastle. He could take it up with legal if he was pressed for time.

“I checked with your assistant. You’re all booked for tomorrow.” He stepped into the elevator with me and glared at a young man in a pinstripe suit. “Get out,” he barked. “This is a private conversation.”

“I, uh, yes, of course Mr. Young. Mr. Beckett.” He nodded at both of us and dashed out of the elevator, shooting a confused look around. He’d probably never even been on the exec floor.

Once the doors closed, I raised my brows at Jonas. I wouldn’t question him in front of some assistant, but this wasn’t his usual attitude. “Bad mood?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Our numbers don’t add up.”

That got me to turn my full attention on him. Even before asking for details, I knew that whatever he’d tell me in the next 60 seconds would ruin my night. “What do you mean, they don’t add up?”

“I mean,” he whispered as if anyone could overhear us in this whirring metal cage, “there’s a hole in the boat and I can’t patch it up until I find it.”

“How much?”

“Enough for me to come to you instead of handling it myself.”

Shit. “How did nobody notice until now? This couldn’t have happened over night.”

“Because we had to do the numbers by hand the other day, when the servers were down.”

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