Page 36 of Boss of Me
“Nothing,” I lie. “It’s been a long week.”
He snorts. “You’re a workaholic.Everyweek is a long week, but that’s never bothered you before.” His eyes narrow speculatively. “Come to think of it, you were acting restless last weekend at Granddad’s birthday party. As much as you love that old man, it was pretty obvious you were itching to be somewhere else. Even Mom noticed, andshenever notices anything that doesn’t involve her or that spoiled furball of hers.”
I snort. “Ain’t that the damn truth?”
Our mother has all the maternal instincts of a box of thumbtacks. She reserves her doting affection for her precious Persian cat, an evil-eyed monster pretentiously named Charlotte Brontë. Mom has never read more than a few pages of classic English literature, which makes her cat’s name even more eye-roll-worthy.
“So what’s eating you?” Maverick persists, bumping his shoulder against mine. “You still thinking about that hottie fromthe bar? You never did tell me what happened after you snuck off with her that night.”
“Nothing happened,” I grumble.
“Is that why you’ve been in such a pissy mood? Because you didn’t get laid?”
I scowl. “Fuck off.”
He laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I glare at him. “Don’t you have another meeting to attend?”
“Not for another twenty minutes.” He grins, enjoying my irritation as only a twin brother can. “What aren’t you telling me, Gunn? You know I’m gonna find out sooner or later, so you might as well come clean.”
He’s right, of course. As close as we are, we’ve never been able to keep secrets from each other. It’s futile to even try. But Marlowe isn’t some sorority babe I banged at a kegger back in college. She’s not some one-night stand I met at the club. She’s different, and as crazy as it may sound, I want to keep her to myself for as long as I can.
“I don’t feel like getting into it right now,” I finally say. “It’s a long story?—”
“So thereisa story,” Maverick pounces triumphantly.
“Yes, asshole, there’s a story.”
He laughs, gleefully rubbing his hands together. “Can’t wait to hear it.”
I throw him a dark glance.
He grins and props his shoulder against the window, looking suddenly reflective as he stares outside.
I wait for him to speak again, hoping he’ll move on to a new topic.
After several moments, he says reminiscently, “Remember how Mom used to take us to Dad’s office on Fridays? Remember how he’d put his arms around our shoulders, point out the window and say proudly, ‘If you boys work hard and stay out oftrouble, someday you can have an amazing view just like this.’ Remember that?”
“Of course,” I murmur.
Maverick smiles with satisfaction. “Our view blowshisout of the fucking water.”
I merely chuckle, gazing out over the bustling cityscape.
Once upon a time, our father was a senior executive at one of the world’s largest oil companies. He was powerful, well connected, a shrewd and highly respected businessman. He worked hard and raked in more money than he could ever spend. But it was never enough for him. He was always looking for more. After losing a fortune on a bad investment deal, he started drinking and whoring around. When his erratic behavior became a liability, the company severed ties with him.
Plunged deeper into depression, he began gambling, gradually pissing away our family’s remaining wealth. We had to downsize to a cramped two-bedroom apartment. By then we were social outcasts, our last name tainted by Dad’s ignominious fall from grace.
As his gambling debts piled up, his relationship with Mom grew more strained. They were arguing almost every day, their shouts echoing through the paper-thin walls of our apartment. The more they fought, the more Dad drank and gambled and cheated. When Mom couldn’t take it anymore, she filed for divorce and took Maverick and me to Dallas where she grew up.
It wasn’t long before Dad followed us, claiming he wanted to be near his boys. Unfortunately, he didn’t leave his reprobate ways behind. The drinking and gambling consumed him, destructive demons he couldn’t outrun. My brother and I have been cleaning up his messes ever since.
“Enough daydreaming. Back to work.” Maverick claps me on the shoulder, his eyes glinting with humor. “Try not to stab anyone at your next meeting. Having our CEO arrested formurder would be seriously bad for business, know what I’m saying?”
I grunt something unintelligible that he somehow understands, making him laugh on his way out the door.
I remain at the window, my thoughts immediately straying back to Marlowe. I can’t get her out of my head. Every time I close my eyes, I imagine her puffy pink lips wrapped around my cock. I fantasize about bending her over a polished table and fucking her from behind while spanking her deliciously round ass.
