“A job?” I laughed.
“It’s not at my firm. Don’t worry. I gave up on that notion a long time ago,” he told me, shuffling around a stack of paintings with a scrutinizing look. “No, it’s actually for an old client of mine who had an advertising firm. He needs a copywriter, and I told him I knew the perfect guy for the job. You know what copywriting is right?”
“Yes,” I groaned. “I know what it is. I’m not an idiot. I’m also not a copywriter…or a writer at all.”
“But you are a creative, and that’s exactly what they need,” he argued. “Think about it, Daws. I know you don’t like handouts, so this is perfect for you. You can get your foot in the door with this position and then work your way up onto the design team or something.”
“If I wanted to be a designer, I would be one. That’s not what I do. It’s not visceral. It’s not the same as having my hands in the paint. Besides, I thought I made myself very clear before about you and your job offers. I don’t need them and I don’t want them. I’m perfectly happy as I am.”
“Come on, brother!” He threw his head back with a dramatic moan. “I happen to know the guy who owns your building and I heard through the grapevine that your landlord has been complaining about you always paying your rent late.”
“Late, maybe. But I always pay it eventually.”
“Why live like that when you don’t have to?” he scoffed. “I know a ton of guys who would kill to be in your shoes, to have me sitting here giving this kind of offer. I mean, a ton of guys would kill to have a millionaire family that he could live off of, but I know better than to get into that with you again.”
“Good. I’m glad you know better,” I scowled. “I know how our grandfather made our fortune, with his ponzi schemes and dirty deals, screwing over hardworking people. Robbing them of their life savings so he could hoard all that money for himself. I don’t want any part of it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he griped. “I’ve heard it all before, but my mind still hasn’t changed. I think you’re a fool. Who cares how he made it? Money is money. And it’s not a real crime unless you get caught.”
“Maybe you can sleep at night knowing your bed, your sheets, your expensive cars and clothes, the roof over your head and everything under it was paid for with that money, but I can’t.”
“Forget it,” he huffed. “I should have never come here. This was a mistake. And I would have been better off not seeing how pathetic all of this is. How patheticyouare.”
He started storming off for the door, but when he swung it open—we were both surprised to see a dark-haired good-looking guy in an expensive suit standing there. His hand was curled into a ball, held up in the air like he was just about to knock before Richard opened the door himself.
“Hey,” Richard pointed, furrowing his brow. “Aren’t you that Heartstring executive guy? John…or is it Josh?”
“Jack,” he replied. “Jack Landson. Nice to meet you, Richard. I believe you’ve already met my wife, Jada.”
“Izzy’s brother,” I blurted in shock. “Where’s Isabella? Is she okay?”
“That’s none of your concern,” he barked, bursting into my studio, forcing Richard back inside. “Nothing about my sister is your concern.”
“Of course it isn’t,” Richard scoffed. “Why would it be?”
Jack’s eyes darkened over him. “I think you better ask your brother about that. Are you going to tell him, Dawson? Or should I?”
“Why are you here?” I asked him, realizing how furious he was with me.
He lunged forward, getting in my face with a vicious scowl. His nostrils flared as he growled, “I’m here to beat your ass.”
“Whoa, buddy,” Richard stepped in. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but no one’s beating my brother’s ass but me. I decided it wasn’t worth it and was about to leave. I suggest you do the same.”
Jack kept his eyes glued to me, ignoring Richard’s threatening suggestion completely. “I know all about you and Izzy and the mind games you’ve been playing with her. But it’s all over now. I talked to her and told her all about who you really are and what you really wanted with her.”
My voice dropped low and my face turned gravely serious. “You know nothing about me and Izzy or what I want with her.”
“Dawsand Izzy?” Richard burst into laughter. “You’ve lost it, Jack. I’m the one dating Isabella. And I know for a fact she’d never give this loser the time of day.”
He circled around the room, laughing harder and harder. But he unknowingly found himself in front of the very thing Izzy had warned me about. I really meant it when I said Richard would never step foot in my place. I never saw this coming, much less with her own brother standing there too.
His laughter faded as the nude painting caught his attention. I watched his face drop as he pulled it out to inspect it closer. Then his eyes turned to me, full of rage and hatred.
“You bastard,” he seethed, his face twisting into disgust. “You knew Izzy and I had a thing going. You saw us together at the gallery. It’s all over the internet for christ’s sake! Youknew!”
“I met her before the ball,” I defended hopelessly. “Before she even knew who you were. I didn’t know who she was then. Not really. I didn’t mean to betray you, but…I’m sorry, Rich. She doesn’t love you.”
“Love!?” he shouted. “Who said anything about love!? I don’t expect her toloveme! But I also know there’s no way in hell she lovesyoueither!”