Page 4 of The Wrong Sister
I take it and turn around without saying a word. The man is an annoying prick who treats his employees like trash. The line isn’t any shorter than when I was getting my coffee, and he clearly isn’t offering any help. Having only two or three people for an establishment with such a demand during rush hour goes against any humane laws.
Avoiding the narrow-eyed stare from the girl, I turn around and walk outside—right to the man playing on the street. I drop the cash into the open sax case and head to the door of my building. A security guard meets me right when I’m about to walk in.
“I’ll take care of him, sir,” he says with a nod. But I grab his shoulder, stopping him.
“Don’t,” I say with a small shake of my head. “Leave him there.”
The guard glances between me and the musician with a confused look but retreats back to the building with a short nod.
I walk into the elevator a few seconds later, and people scatter out right away like scared roaches. The cloud of anger following me probably has something to do with it. I press the button for the top floor and mechanically take a sip of my coffee, forgetting about my own warning to not drink it, and spit it out right away. The little shit managed to put salt in it even under my watchful eyes.
When the doors open, they know. The whole floor does because there are no sounds other than a keyboard clicking. Someone from downstairs warned them I was coming. Jessica, the receptionist at the front desk, is standing by the elevator, a leather folder in her hands. Who the fuck knows why she does that every single morning because she doesn’treport to me. She’s just a pretty face to greet people and make them comfortable. Noah picked her.
“Good morning, Mr. King.” Her pretentious, cheerful voice is annoying. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Her eyes dip to my wet lap. She’s clearly curious what type of liquid is on me, and in ten minutes the whole building will know. Unless someone from downstairs missed a giant wet puddle on my black pants.
I pointedly glance at the cup in my hands, and her cheeks turn bright red. “Right. Have a good day then!”
I could use a cup of coffee because this one is spoiled, but for the love of everything, couldn’t she see I already have one in my hands?
Marching toward my office, I glance around. People scatter everywhere as I go, burying their heads deeper into their computers and trying to avoid my gaze. I don’t handpick people for the office tasks; I leave it to my brother and HR. I simply don’t have the time for that. So I don’t know half their names and don’t care to. I pay them good money to stay on top of their game, and it doesn’t require me to smile at them.
“Mr. King,” Martin greets me with a raised eyebrow just as his eyes land on my dick area. “Good morning?” He’s the only one around here, besides my brother, who can get away with sarcasm addressed at me.Andwith refusing to align our morning schedules.
My heavy glare makes him chuckle as I pass him. He follows me hot on my heels.
“You have a meeting at eight fifteen and then another at ten. I moved your dental appointment to midday and your lunch to one.”
I pause walking toward a bathroom in my office to stare at him.
“Oral hygiene is important. You’ll thank me later.”
I nearly roll my eyes but let it slide because I don’t think I can function without Martin. Out of the whole floor, he’s getting the highest paycheck. And for good reason. I probably should lower it because I stopped getting my morning dose of caffeine, and it was literally part of his job description.
Through the bathroom door, I hear him continue. “You have a call at three and then a board meeting at four.”
“Board meeting?” I ask, pulling new pants on. “I wasn’t aware of that, and it’s my fucking company.”
“Yes.” He pauses. “I received the email this morning with the request for the meeting and approved it. I thought it would be best or they’ll think something is wrong.”
I open the door to eye him. “Who requested that?”
“Lebovski.” Martin’s voice drops, and I know why.
Leonard Lebovski has always been a very eager member of the board. He’s the one who never agrees with my decisions and questions them during the meetings, trying to make me look incompetent. His family came into money by marrying into old families with power. Who the hell knows why those families agree to these matches, because other than the pretty face, they bring nothing to the table. I’ve heard his brother works as some clerk for the city while his wife organizes galas and monthly balls for the rich in her own circle.
I walk to my chair at my desk. “What does he want this time?”
“The rumors fly among us simple folks that there might be an idea of pushing the vote sooner than we predicted.” He waves his hand in the air theatrically.
“Is it his idea?”
“Yes.” Martin’s tone turns serious. “But almost all of them agree. Only Wrong is neutral right now. He’s on vacation with his family somewhere, as usual.” Martin chucklesbecause I don’t think we’ve seen Wrong more than once since he joined the board—his family is always ‘vacationing.’ “So, he doesn’t care who will be in the chair.”
I level him with a stare. “Iamstill on the chair.”
“They keep forgetting that,” he chuckles. “But honestly, the feeling on the floor is like they’re getting ready to strike. It’s too quiet, you know. Too nice.”
I mull over his words. I’ve had this feeling for quite some time now, and Noah agrees. The board is getting ready for something big. They’ve been throwing little stones here and there since they were brought on by my father right before he retired, but nothing major yet. Nothing that might threaten we’d lose the company.
