My (Mostly) Secret Baby: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy(14)
He smacked his lips theatrically, then pointed to his plate. “Seriously. It’s like you can picture Chef Torrone under the table while his grandma was making bread. I can almost see the flour drifting down around him.”
“That’s wonderful. Now that your stomach is full, can we discuss this properly?”
My brother lifted his napkin to wipe at his already-clean mouth. “If we must.”
“You’ve become a liability to your sponsors. I’m getting calls every day. They’re threatening to pull their deals with us.”
“Then we get new ones.”
“These are the new ones. You can only screw up so many times before you run out of options, Chris. Either you shape up and start at least playing by some of the rules, or you’ll lose them all.”
“I like women. I like to party. I fail to see how that separates me from every other professional athlete with shoe deals and TV spots.”
“Most recently? You liked a woman in a public park in full view of paparazzi. If we want to dig into history, like, say, a month ago? Then you also partied with certain illegal substances while cameras were rolling during an award ceremony. Do I need to continue, or is my point setting in?”
“You have to ask that often, don’t you?”
“What?”
He smirked. “Is your point in yet? When it’s so small, you’ve probably got to double check with them.”
“Could you at least pretend to take this seriously? We’re talking about millions of dollars on the line. In case you forgot, that matters to both of us.”
“What are you proposing, exactly? Some sort of celibacy stunt? Like I go two weeks without fucking?”
“I don’t know yet, but we’re going to need to come up with something.”
“Hey,” Chris pointed past me. “Isn’t that your little friend?”
I spotted Chelsea at the entrance of the restaurant. She was trying to explain something to the hostess while gesturing in my direction. The hostess looked toward me, then sent a young man in a suit to talk to me.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, sirs. That young woman claims there’s something she needs to give you.”
I hid the smile I felt threatening to come. I shook my head. “I’ve never seen her in my life. Please make sure she doesn’t bother us.”
The man nodded, then went back to the hostess, who said a few clipped words to Chelsea. I only had time to see her shoot me a glare of pure ice before she was escorted out of the building.
“What was that about?” Chris asked.
“I told her to meet me here.”
He shifted his eyes to the side. “Right. And then you had her removed from the building? Any reason in particular you’re tormenting the girl?”
“None that should worry you.”
“Well, at least you’re showing an interest in something other than counting money. I guess I should be happy.”
“I’m not showing an interest. I’m making a point.”
“If the point is that you’re an asshole, then trust me, there’s no need to go to all the effort.”
“As much fun as this is, I’m going to head back to the office. One of us has work to do.”
Chris reached across the table and pulled my mostly untouched plate to his side. “I only let you believe I don’t bust my ass. It’s part of my charming image. As soon as you’re not watching, I’ll be working, too. On this French model. She doesn’t even shave her legs. It’s very exotic. Scratchy, but exotic.”
“Charming. Right. Do me a favor and focus on having a personality that doesn’t cost me millions of dollars for a change.”
“Yeah, well, gotta spend money to make it. Right?”
“No. Not in this context. Just, no.”
I wasn’t prepared to admit it—even under torture—but I was looking forward to seeing how Chelsea planned to handle the first hurdle I’d laid out for her. Nobody made eye contact with me as I entered the company building through the lobby and headed toward the elevators. They all knew better by now, I supposed.
My thoughts were still on my brother’s situation. Chris was the foundation that made everything I did easier. With him, all we had to do to snap up new clients was point to Chris. Had it not been for Trish and her catastrophic exit from Rose Athletic Representatives and my life, I wouldn’t have felt so reliant on my brother. Instead, he was the biggest name we had left by far, and without him, I didn’t know what our future would hold.
As his brother, I wanted to help him right the course before it was too late. At the CEO of a multi-million-dollar business, I needed to make sure I had a backup plan.
In other words, I needed to find someone remotely comparable to Chris’ star power to bring on.
I was meeting with Tia Klein this afternoon, the up-and-coming golfer slash Instagram influencer. She was apparently above average on the course, if not quite a top tier pro. But she also had millions who clung to her every word about makeup products and fashion online. She wouldn’t be a Chris Rose, but I had to test all my options. Maybe someone who had proven they knew how to leverage their looks and position to carve out a social media following would be a good start. A new breed of client, even.
When I reached my floor, I found a small gathering of people near the break room. Men and women were crowded around outside trying to arch their necks to look inside. Once they saw me coming, it was like Moses and the Red Sea parting.