I can’t believe I’m even considering this, but when I look between the two of them, I feel myself leaning further and further toward a yes. Not because of the mansion aspect, but because I don’t want Kelsey to hate me, and I know after a few days in this tiny apartment, she very well might disown me. Living here is one thing, but working and living here in this apartment is a whole other ball game.

Sighing, I say, “Fine, but I request the farthest room away from yours, no funny business.” I point my finger at him.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he says casually before going to the bed, where he shuffles the dress boxes. Kelsey snorts and covers her mouth while I steam.

“Well, don’t you . . . flatter yourself either,” I say.

“Ooo, burn,” Kelsey says mockingly. “You really got him with that one.”

I rub my temples. “Kelsey, I would appreciate it if you were on my side.”

“I am, that’s why I’m encouraging you to try harder with your comebacks. Think before you react, hit him back where it hurts. You know, something like . . . your, uh, hair . . . well, no, that’s nice. Maybe, that suit . . . hmm, it’s impeccably tailored. Wait, that’s a compliment. Oh, I know, your jaw is so tight . . . it’s actually quite symmetrical. His whole face, very symmetrical. Just an absolute specimen.”

“Wow.” I slow clap. “Thanks, Kelsey, super-helpful insults.”

Huxley looks between the two of us. “Are we done with the pitiful attempts at comebacks?”

“You’re pitiful,” I shoot back and then look to Kelsey for approval. She gives me a solid thumbs up and a head nod. Ha, got him good.

His jaw ticks. “I need you to try on outfits.”

“You could ask in a nicer tone.”

“This is business. I’m not trying to win you over or woo you. I’m your boss in this moment, therefore, you respond to my commands.”

Anger bubbles up inside me, while Kelsey fans her face.

“Wow, should she call you Daddy after that domineering speech?”

“Kelsey, for the love of God.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Could you please keep it in your pants?”

There’s another knock at the door, and she says, “Now, that must be the food, unless you have someone waiting for me behind that door.” She wiggles her eyebrows and then straightens. “Man, I really do need to keep it in my pants.” She goes to the door, accepts the food, and then brings it to her galley kitchen.

Huxley flips open the boxes and holds up a beautiful, green maxi dress with an empire waist and flowy dolman sleeves. The plunging neckline is lower than what I’d normally wear, but the fabric looks luscious, so, you know . . . I’ll try it on.

“Put this on. I want to see you in it.”

I stand from my chair, snag the dress from him, and say, “You know, a please wouldn’t hurt you.”

When I’m in the bathroom, I quickly slip out of my clothes—which I just kick to the side, Kelsey will be horrified—and then put on the dress, letting the smooth fabric fall over my curves.

“Wow,” I whisper, while taking in the dress in the mirror. It fits like a glove, it accentuates my waist, and my boobs look spectacular. I guess money really can buy everything, because I’ve never been able to buy this kind of silhouette before.

Time to show the “boss.”

I open the door and walk out of the bathroom, feeling awkward. I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I hold them demurely in front of me. “Is this what you were looking for, master?” I ask him.

His facial expression doesn’t change, nor does he show a flicker of appreciation. In a stern voice, he says, “It’ll do for tonight.”

Might as well be the farmer from Babe. Pat me on the head and say, “That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.”

Sheesh.

At least he’s setting expectations right now. This is business. This isn’t some sort of fairy tale where he plucks me from rags and turns me into a princess. Not that I want something like that. I truly want to earn my way through this life, but, you know, a little decency or acknowledgement of my usually lacking cleavage would be nice.

“These other dresses are for different occasions. There are notes in the boxes on when to wear them and how, as well as which shoes to pair with them, but now that you’re going to be living with me, I’ll be able to give final approval before you walk out of the house.”

“Final approval?” I ask. “You realize this is my body, right?”

“Very much aware that’s your body. But you also signed a contract that stated I get final approval of all outfits before we attend a business event.”

“I thought that was just, you know, semantics.” I wave my hand about.

“Nothing about a contract is just semantics,” he shoots at me. “That’s something you should learn right away, especially if you’re going to be working within the admin side of your sister’s business. It would behoove you to become quite familiar with legal jargon.”

“I am familiar,” I shoot back. “Don’t assume I know nothing.”

“When you pass off our contract as semantics, I’m going to assume you need to be educated, especially when taking on your sibling’s business that they’ve built from the ground up. You don’t fuck around with that.”

“I’m not fucking around with it.”

“You need to take it seriously,” he says in that commanding voice.

“I am taking it seriously.”

“This isn’t just a game, Lottie. This is an opportunity to seize, to jump to the next chapter in your life, to level up, and if you’re just going to fuck around—”

“What the hell makes you think I’m fucking around?” I spread my arms wide. “I’m standing here in a dress you want me to wear, and some man is going to come here and move my boxes to your house, at your request. I’m going to attend a dinner tonight that, frankly, I’m terrified of attending, just for the mere fact that if I slip up, if I say something wrong, then I fuck everything up for you. And for some odd reason, I don’t want to do that.” I close the distance between us and poke him in the chest. “So don’t accuse me of fucking around. Do you understand me?”

A munching sound fills the silence, and at the same time, Huxley and I both turn toward Kelsey, who has a container of lo mein in hand, chopsticks in the other. She’s midbite when she smiles at us and says, “Oh, sorry . . . just enjoying the show. Lo mein?” She offers the canister.

Annoyed, I spin on my heel and return to the bathroom, where I disrobe once again, but this time, I sit, half naked, on the covered toilet.

The nerve of that man. It really is time to read that contract.

The air conditioner in the car is doing nothing for the burning inferno that’s ripping through my body.

I know this is business, I’m not looking for anything other than a business transaction, but would it have killed the man to at least acknowledge the lengths I went to, to curl my long hair? Granted, he asked me to curl it and demanded I go with a natural look with my makeup, but a nod of approval would be nice.

Do you think I got one?

When I stepped out of the bathroom—looking damn fine, mind you—he said nothing, other than “Let’s get moving.”

Kelsey gave me a hug of encouragement before I left and told me to call her if I needed to come back to her apartment. From the anxious look on her face as we were trying to figure out what to do with all the boxes, I’m going to assume the invitation is an empty one.

Huxley drives the car into a quiet street and pulls up next to a large white house that resembles the house from The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, with the grandiose pillars and large, dangling light fixture.

I reach for the car door handle, but he asks, “Where do you think you’re going?”

I look over my shoulder at him. “I don’t know, arriving obnoxiously early to a dinner date?” I point to the clock. “Honestly, who shows up an hour early? Is that a rich thing us peasants are unaware of?”