Hard Rules (Dirty Money #1)(37)

With the realization that my briefcase is at my apartment, I decide that the plan is to hole up there with my files I still haven’t finished reviewing and a pot of coffee. In other words, far away from the family drama distracting me from my focus on building BP profits by way of creating the strongest team of experts in the industry. Only that drama feels front and center as I arrive at the Four Seasons, hand off my car to be parked, and enter the hotel, my encounter with my father ever present in my mind. As is him being here to f*ck a woman my mother hired to sleep with him. The many ways that is insanity can’t be counted, but of major concern is a woman who will sell herself for money, having intimate knowledge of our family, which she can then sell as well.

By the time I step off the elevator on my floor, I’ve vowed to shove all of this aside for a few hours of work, except my phone rings. It’s Jessica. My said “family drama” proves it will hunt me down with a damn hammer in its hand.

“Your father is in a mood,” she announces. “I mean the man is terrorizing the entire building. Not just our staff. He went off on Karen at the coffee bar for getting his order wrong. He is such an ass.”

If this were anyone else, I’d suggest it were cancer-or medication-related, but this isn’t my father’s first attack on everyone around him. Not by a long shot. “What do you need from me?” I ask, suspecting my father’s wrath has turned in my direction, most likely to punish me for this morning, when he’s the one who instigated it.

“He’s having a conniption over a deal memo he wants reviewed,” she says.

“Tell him to e-mail it to me,” I say, entering my apartment and shutting the door.

“He doesn’t have it on e-mail. He says he needs to know if he’s being bent over before he’s screwed, not after.”

“He said that to you?” I ask and quickly add, pressing fingers to the bridge of my nose. “Never mind. Of course he did.” I unbutton my jacket and settle my hands on my hips. “If I go there, it’s not going to end well. Bring it here.”

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” she says, ending the call before I can change my mind, clearly just wanting out of that office for a while.

Sighing, I walk to the coatrack, shrug out of my jacket and hang it next to the one that smells sweet like Emily, who’s still lingering in the back of my mind. A welcome distraction from my father’s bullshit or the complications that could arise from my brother handing an FDA inspector a bribe. I walk across the living room and stand at the window, watching rain splatter the glass, frowning at something I spy on the patio. Opening the door, I glance out in the storm and start laughing. Emily’s bra is hanging on one of the dangling lights. I laugh harder. Even when that woman isn’t here, she manages to break through the crap around me.

An impossible smile lingering on my lips, I leave the bra, shutting the door, and walking into the kitchen, I take a barstool with me, and set my briefcase down on the island. Next I get that pot of coffee started and power up my MacBook with my files ready to view beside it. Once I have my cup of coffee, I sit down and take a sip, the strong bite of cinnamon in my favorite blend exploding in my taste buds, and I wonder if Emily would once again grimace. I set the cup down and reach for my files, organizing my four top candidates for the pharmaceutical division. Two executives and two of the top scientists in the pharmaceutical industry—I’ve spoken to one of each. Recruiting them won’t be an issue, but in light of the FDA bribe, I have to think about human corruptibility and them becoming my brother’s targets. Building BP to win over the board is no longer the plan. They won’t be around to impress if the plan I hatched yesterday morning works.

I’ve just finished cup number one when the doorbell rings. I’m about to stand when the door opens and I hear Jessica call out, “I let myself in. I hope you’re decent.” She doesn’t wait to find out, because of course she knows I am. She rounds the corner in a one-piece black suit dress runsn her fingers through her spiky blond hair and stops on the other side of the island.

“The deal memo,” she says, setting an envelope down. “He wants you to call him within the hour.” She snorts. “Like bossing you around ever works. I really love that about you by the way.” She eyes the coffeepot. “Why yes, boss, I would like a cup of coffee.”

“Help yourself,” I say, but she’s already headed for the pot, and aside from filling her own cup, she refills mine. “Do you actually have creamer?”

“Cabinet above the pot,” I say, my phone buzzing with a text where it lay next to my computer. I grab it and glance at the message from Seth. Your father leased room 751 for six months. Confirming, but I do believe the “other” woman is living there.

I set the phone down, precisely, slowly, reining in the anger burning through me, and not quite sure if it’s more directed at my mother or my father.

“Do you want your twenty or so messages now or never?” Jessica asks, appearing in front of me.

“If never is actually an option, then you can handle them.”

“I already did. I just wanted you to remember how efficient I am.” She sits down in front of me. “In case you leave and I need a reference.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Correction. I’m leaving this apartment. If you do your job. Get in touch with my Realtor and find me a house.”