Shopping for a CEO's Fiancee

by Julia Kent

  Like learning to play piano while unicycling.

  “Talk to me,” I say, unable to find the right words to even start. I drink my cup of coffee and the image of all those unread emails taunts me, each line etched into my mind. The curse of having a photographic memory.

  “I am.” She gives me a bitter smile and slowly opens the robe, revealing my smartphone tucked neatly under one breast. She must have magician’s genes in her. How does it stay in place?

  I reach for it, the metal warm, the glass slightly wet with her perspiration.

  “Tell me what’s going on behind those beautiful eyes.”

  She looks up, coquettish yet guarded. “Shannon says they fight all the time about Declan being a workaholic.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me.”

  “And that you’re worse.”

  “Worse?”

  “You work even more hours than he does.”

  “I do. That’s how this works. I’m CEO now. It’s not a job—”

  “It’s a life,” she says, echoing me.

  “Dec says that to Shannon, too?”

  She nods.

  I tip her chin up. “I work so hard and so many hours because I’m taking over Dad’s legacy. But truly? I’ve always worked so much because I didn’t have anything else in my life. Anterdec was it. Until now. Until you.”

  She melts.

  I knew she would.

  All I want is to spend the day in bed with her, our only interruptions the delivery people bringing food. How many orgasms can we generate in a twenty-four-hour period? My competitive nature rises up.

  Among other things.

  “I know your idea of work and my idea of work are in different columns,” she says seriously. “Work is what you do to get ahead. To pay the bills. To find meaning.”

  “Work isn’t some separate category,” I add. “It’s integrated into who I am. I am Anterdec now. I am not just the face of the company, Amanda. Being a CEO is different than having any other job on the planet.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m not saying that to be arrogant, or brag.”

  “You don’t have to explain it to me, Andrew. I understand.”

  “Do you? Really?”

  “I’m trying to. Your reality is different from most people’s. Your family lives a life very removed from most of us.”

  “You make me feel like I’m exiled,” I say, half joking.

  Half.

  “In a way, you are. Sometimes I feel sorry for you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Not in a poor-little-rich-boy kind of way. But fame and fortune have costs I never realized before.”

  “Like what?” I settle in, setting aside my work mind. I’m intrigued.

  “It’s not just the busyness. Not just the demands on your time, or the fact that, like you said—you are Anterdec. All of you except Terry. I’m seeing that better now. Your company isn’t some institution your father created to make money. It’s like giving birth to a child and raising it. And you’re being handed your father’s baby.”

  “Is this part of the whole ‘you’re bad at analogies’ problem? Because I am my father’s baby.” Sounds weird to say it that way, but truth is truth.

  She laughs. “So is the company. And you’re struggling with the transfer of power. You’re in massive transition right now.”

  “In more ways than one.” I take her hand and watch as she reacts, changing before my eyes. “We’re in transition, too.”

  “Yes.”

  “Each of us, separately, and both of us, together.”

  “Mmm hmmm.” Her mouth is full of coffee.

  “What about you?” I ask. “Did you always want to be a mystery shopper manager? Work in marketing?”

  As the words come out of my mouth, her eyes change from purely curious to suspiciously confused. “What?”

  “Was this your career goal?”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “No. Why would I joke?”

  She sighs. “Exhibit #1, Your Honor.”

  “I’m on trial? For what crime?”

  “Being exiled.” She frowns. “I went into marketing because it was a job. With a paycheck, and the holy grail of full benefits. I didn’t set out to be in this field, Andrew. I found it out of necessity.”

  “What did you want to do? When you were younger?”

  “You mean, what’s my heart’s work? Follow your bliss and all that?”

  I groan. “God, no. I hate that phrase.”

  “You do? Why?”

  “Because no one actually finds meaning and money in their bliss. You can’t. It’s like...” I fumble for the right words.

  “Trying to orgasm and pee at the same time?” she offers.

  “Exactly like that.”

  “Maybe I don’t suck at analogies after all.”

  I kiss the top of her mussed head. “No. You do.”

  We chuckle as the wind whips the rain against my closed balcony slider. It sounds like a phalanx of kids with BB guns shooting at us.

  Amanda looks at the rainstorm. “Glad I don’t have to go anywhere immediately.”

  “I can just have Gerald or Lance take you wherever, anyhow. You never need to set foot outside.”

  She gives me a funny look.

  I drink my coffee and shut up.

  “I assumed you’d have your pick of careers. You were raised with wealth. Access. The finest educations and all that. I’d assume kids raised the way you were raised could major in basket weaving and not worry about money.”

  “That’s not how it works.”

  “Illuminate me.”

  “Maybe it works that way for some of the kids I went to Milton with. But if it did, I didn’t know any of them. The rest of us had the pressure put on us in preschool. Like a fire hose aimed at your permanent record nonstop.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Why did our parents hold us to high standards?”

  “Yeah.”

  “For Dad, it was about making sure we could take over the company. Keep the McCormick name in stellar shape. Grow Anterdec and turn it into an international giant.”

  “So far, so good.”

  I shake my head. “It’s been Dad, mostly. Dec’s done some good deals for the hospitality branch, but it’s all on me as we move forward.” A rush of responsibility fills me, like the crush of a crowd trying to make it to the front of a stage at a huge rock concert. Thousands of work details, big and small, shove at me.

  “You’ll do well. James wouldn’t have picked you if he didn’t believe in you.”

  “You really think that?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “I think Dad picked me to punish Declan.” There. I said it. Amanda’s the first person I’ve ever confided in.

  “Really? He’s still mad? After all these years?”

  “It’s never going away. Never.”

  “I don’t understand that kind of anger. Why keep it inside? Why let it eat away at you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t know any different.” Amanda finishes her cup and plucks my empty one from my hands, turning away, walking through the door.

  Leaving me dumbstruck.

  I grab my phone. Text from Vince.

  Outdoor session canceled. Meet me at your office. Will turn you into a puddle indoors.

  I snort.

  Or whimper.

  It’s hard to tell the difference.

  I am still texting just as she returns, steam spooling up from the two fresh coffees in her hand.

  “Work?”

  Need to talk. Want to know the rest of the story, I text Terry.

  “Yes,” I say, smiling as she hands me the coffee, dipping down for a kiss.

  By the time Terry replies, I’m buried.

  In her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I can’t believe we have to suffer through this,” I grumble as we climb out of the SUV, Gerald dropping us off at Declan
’s building. We’ve been home for two weeks, barely enough time to catch up, and now we have to spent a rare Saturday night being tortured by my brother’s mother-in-law.

  I am not legally related to her.

  But crazy has its own gravity, flowing from older brother to younger.

  “You’re the best man. I’m the maid of honor. We have to go to the wedding-gift-opening party.”

  “Terry was the best man, technically.”

  Amanda gives me a look that says I’d better shut up or I’m on the fast track to a no-sex night.

  I shut up.

  “Dec and Shannon have nearly seven hundred wedding gifts to open, and we’re all going to help them.”

  “Great. Just what I want to do with a Saturday night. Spend it at my brother’s house with his crazy mother-in-law, opening china and tablecloths, oohing and aahing over crap no one really uses. Let’s take wagers on how many fondue sets they get.”

  As we enter the elevator, she gives me a funny look. “That’s what you really think about weddings and registering and gifts?”

  “Yes.”

  She laughs, giving a sigh of relief. “Me, too.”

  My thumb worries the spot where my wedding ring used to rest.

  I miss it.

  We’re the last to arrive, the room filled with the same people who were at the rehearsal dinner. Has it really only been a month since that night? I count back.

  About six weeks.

  Not long enough between parties involving Marie.

  Even my cousin Hamish is here, which is strange. Why would he be here?

  Oh. Right.

  A party involving Marie. That’s why.

  “Andrew! Amanda!” Marie squeals. She’s wearing a purple get-up that sets her now-platinum hair apart, like corn silk on top of a lavender field. For the wedding, she dyed it auburn for some reason, but now she’s back to normal, whatever that means for Marie.

  Her eyes are bright and cheeks pink. Her hug comes with alcohol-soaked breath. “I’m so glad you’re here. Now we have two best men!”

  I look over her shoulder at Terry, who gives me a fake smile, a thumbs-up, and points to a beer in his hand.

  Hell, yes, I mouth.

  I’m going to need plenty of alcohol to get through tonight.

  “Six hundred and fifty-seven presents Shannon and Declan got for their wedding!” Marie calls out as she lets me go and Terry mercifully appears with a beer for me.

  “I’d rather listen to you tell me what happened with Dad after Mom died than sit through the next two hours,” I say before swigging half my beer like it’s an antidote to being wedding-poisoned.

  “Come on. Marie’s not that bad,” Terry replies with a wink.

  “Dad dropped you on his head, didn’t he? That’s the true explanation.”

  He gives me an even, neutral look before whispering, “Some other time. Not now. You clearly have enough tragedy to work through.” The corner of his mouth twitches.

  Amanda gravitates to Shannon, who is tanned and smiling, Dec’s arm around her as he pours red wine into a series of glasses.

  He looks pretty damn relaxed, too. Honeymoons will do that, I guess.

  Can’t wait to find out for myself.

  “Look at all those gifts!” Marie says, pointing. Tables have been set up in the living room, and about twelve file boxes are stacked neatly, labeled McCormick Wedding Gifts. About a hundred wrapped presents of varying sizes are piled around them on the floor and tables.

  Looks about right for a thousand-guest wedding.

  That Dec and Shannon abandoned.

  “It’s going to be a long night,” Dad says, appearing behind me, his voice tortured. “Six hundred gifts and Marie in her glory.”

  “Can’t an admin at Anterdec handle this?” I mutter.

  “That’s what Declan and I said, but this is all Shannon and Marie’s idea.”

  “You mean this is Marie’s idea.”

  He laughs. “Your brother’s the one who chose to marry into the crazy family.”

  I look at Amanda, who is chatting with her mother, who has her teacup Chihuahua in her purse, feeding it nibbles of cheese from a platter. Terry walks over and gives Spritzy a kiss on the forehead, making baby talk to the little drowned rat.

  Right.

  Crazy family.

  Dec peels himself off his new wife and approaches me with a smirk. “Figured out you’re not married to anyone, huh?”

  “Confirmed bachelor.” A hollow gong rings in me as I say it.

  “How’s business?”

  I give him an evil grin. “Good. How about you?”

  “Funny thing, little bro. I came home from my honeymoon and went to work. All my passwords were invalid. Gerald informed me I have a week left of limo services from Anterdec. Grace told me I have a week, too, of her services. Any secured systems I need to access have to be done through her accounts.”

  I go cold. “Dad didn’t talk to you first?”

  “So you knew about this?” His eyes narrow and his jaw tightens.

  “I knew. You resigned. I offered to talk to you first about the transition, but Dad said he wanted to do it.”

  “Well, he didn’t. The New Zealand account’s going to blow up if I can’t get back on track. And then there’s Grace.”

  I chug my beer. I can tell he’s upset, but he’s not pissed. I expected fiery fury. Instead, I’m getting a cold, reserved kind of anger, as if he’s suddenly turned British.

  “We can manage New Zealand. And Grace, well...she’s an Anterdec employee. If you want her, you have to try to make her join your new company.”

  “I tried. She refused.”

  SCORE! I try to contain my glee. I finally get Grace as my admin. Buh-bye, Gina.

  Or, I should say, Buh-bye, Gina?

  I shrug and reach across the counter for another beer. Halfway through it, I pause and say, “Transitions. Changes. They all have their ups and downs.”

  “Being stripped of all Anterdec privileges is one hell of a change.”

  “What did you expect?” I drain the second beer, welcoming the warm buzz that begins in my hands and feet.

  He pauses mid-sip with his wine glass, brows turning down. “Not sure. But not this.”

  “You have your own company now. Anterdec has security issues with a VP as high as you up the food chain having access to sensitive systems.”

  “I’m the owner’s son.”

  “And it’s the owner who did this to you.” I swallow an I’m sorry because I’m not the one who’s responsible. That’s Dad, and Declan’ll have to hash it out with him.

  “If we’re talking business—”

  “Do we have to?”

  He gives me a look that says, tough shit. “I want to buy the Turdmobile.”

  “You what?”

  “Well, Shannon does. Anterdec is acquiring Consolidated Evalu-shop. They have a contract with the advertising company that manages the crazy promotional cars. Shannon’s shown me the stats on that damn piece of shit car—”

  “Literally.”

  “—and it generates a ton of business for the coffee shop it’s intended to advertise. We just acquired a chain of coffee shops, so...I want to buy out the contract from you.”

  “You can have the damn car.”

  He laughs. “I thought the same thing, but once I saw the metrics, I was convinced. Besides, Shannon will need a car. No more limos.”

  “Poor baby.”

  He glares. “I’ll have my people talk to yours about the Turdmobile?”

  “You have people already? When did your new company get people? You were on your honeymoon last week, for God’s sake! You haven’t had time to acquire people.”

  He shuts down. “Just be aware we want to move fast on this.”

  “Like I said, you can have the damn contract. Consider it a wedding gift.”

  He pulls out his phone and texts. “Okay. Done. Expect a call tomorrow to make it happen.”

  Gr
eat. So far, I’ve managed to avoid ever riding in that piece-of-shit car. Amanda’s offered to drive and I’ve skillfully avoided it.

  Done. Forever.

  That car is out of my business and out of my life.

  Amanda’s eye catches mine and suddenly, Dec doesn’t exist. She’s giving me one of those closed-mouth smiles that says she’s thinking about me, naked. Her nose twitches as she moves her lips, the sexy curve of her mouth one I can imagine in intimate places. The beer is getting a nice grip on me, and if I can get my girlfriend alone, I’ll bet she could get a nice grip on me, too.

  Dec looks at me, his eyes cutting over to Amanda, and he does an epic eye roll. “You think with your pants.”

  I snort. “Like you’re any different?”

  He frowns. “No.”

  We might not talk about feelings in our family, but sex is open territory.

  “Speaking of which, how was the honeymoon?”

  His face goes blank. “Don’t want to talk about it.”

  “That bad or that good?”

  “Not talking about it.”

  Before I can press for details, Hamish approaches, hand outstretched, a shit-eating grin on his face. He’s taller than me, and a wall of broad muscle. If he weren’t a kickass soccer player, he’d be a rugby man, for sure.

  “Andrew!” The Scottish lilt in his voice makes me smile. “So good to see you.” He claps his hand on Dec’s shoulder. “Already said my congratulations to this one, but he couldn’t really talk with the dog collar attached to his leash.”

  Dec’s expression tells me this joke has been made before, many times.

  “We can’t all sleep our way through Europe on a football tour,” I tell him with a wink.

  “Ah, but it’s fun to try,” Hamish says with a deep, dirty laugh.

  Behind him, I see Amy and Carol in a huddle around a tray of chocolates. At his words, Amy opens her mouth and sticks her finger down her throat. Carol bursts into giggles.

  I see Amy’s well acquainted with Hamish.

  “At the rehearsal dinner, you were talking about endorsements. How’s that going?” I ask.

  It’s hard to believe we’re related. Dad’s older half brother from his father’s first marriage is Hamish’s father. Dad doesn’t talk about the family history, so I don’t know the details, just that my grandfather had a “first family” in Scotland before emigrating to the U.S. and marrying my dad’s mom. Hamish is a fiery ginger with bright green eyes and a broad face covered in freckles. He’s the size of a Viking and thickly muscled, the kind of man who looks like he shouldn’t be good at soccer but is light as hell on his feet.