Chapter Ten

LOTTIE

Before I could lay eyes on Huxley this morning, I slipped out of the house, fully dressed in some silky dress that’s far too flattering. The material feels like a cloud gently wrapped around me. Damn these expensive clothes.

I wanted nothing to do with him, nor did I want him asking me questions.

Yesterday was dreadful. After breakfast, I slipped up to my room, where I wrote down all of my ideas for Kelsey’s business and how to improve it. Lunch and dinner were spent sitting in silence next to Huxley until I was able to slip away again. I haven’t seen him since dinner last night, and I prefer it that way.

When I went to get into my car to drive over to Kelsey’s this morning, I realized—guess who doesn’t have a car here? So, I walked down the block and ordered an Uber to get me to West Hollywood.

Now, with our favorite coffee in hand, I walk up to Kelsey’s apartment, excited to see her and give her all the gory details. I knock on the door and wait. It’s early, but hopefully she’s up and ready for the day.

The door opens and—

“What the actual fuck are you doing here?” I ask Huxley, who stands on the other side of the door.

In a sarcastic tone, he says, “You didn’t give me a kiss goodbye.”

Pushing past him, I say, “Crawl up your own scrotum and drown.” I find Kelsey in the kitchen, eating a bagel with a huge smile on her face. “Why did you let him into your apartment?”

“I thought there was something wrong, like something happened to you. Then he told me you didn’t say bye to him and I felt bad.”

I spin around to glare at Huxley. He’s dressed for the day in a deep blue suit, white button-up shirt, and a slate colored tie. Not one hair is out of place on his head, and he has just enough scruff to make him look positively intimidating.

“How on earth are you ready and dressed?”

“If you shared a room with me, you’d know I wake up at four to start my day.”

“God, you’re mental.” I hand Kelsey her coffee and say, “I shouldn’t even give this to you, since you seem to enjoy my slow torture.”

“He’s actually a pretty nice guy,” Kelsey says.

“To whom? To you? Of course he is, because he doesn’t see you as his puppet. Believe me, if you were in the trenches like me, you’d think differently.”

Kelsey fingers the sleeve of my dress. “You consider designer clothes being in the trenches?”

Pompously, Huxley sticks his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels, a grin on his stupidly handsome face.

“I’d rather be naked than have to deal with him.”

“We can arrange that,” Huxley says, causing my sister to chuckle.

“Hey,” I snap at her, “whose side are you on?”

“Yours, of course. Always on your side, sis. But this is far too entertaining.”

Groaning, I turn back to Huxley and say, “I have no idea why you’re here, but I need you to leave so I can talk about you behind your back with my sister.”

From his pants pocket, he pulls out a black card and holds it in front of me.

“What’s that?”

“The key to your car.”

“That’s not a key, that’s a credit card.”

He shakes his head. “It unlocks your car and you need it to drive the car so yeah, it’s a key. It’s the white Model 3 in the front parking spot of this building. I expect you to drive it. The PIN number you’ll also need to drive it is written down inside the envelope on the table.” When I don’t take the card from him, he steps up to me and slips it right into my cleavage. “Have a great day . . . sweetheart.”

And then he leaves.

I stare at the closed door, card still stuck in my cleavage.

When I turn around, mouth agape, Kelsey chuckles and says, “Oh, this is so much fun for me.”

“Why are you a bad sister?”

She laughs and sets her mug down on the counter. “I’m not a bad sister, I’m just taking joy in something new that’s happening in your life.”

I point to the door through which Huxley just retreated. “There’s nothing joyous about that man.”

“I don’t know.” She smirks. “He does seem to have some good qualities.”

I fold my arms. “Really? Good looks buy your loyalty?” I point to my chest. “I’m your sister. Your loyalty belongs to me.”

“Oh, settle down,” she says as she plucks the keycard from my cleavage and guides me to one of the chairs at her bistro table. “You know I’m on your side, but I will say, you should probably give him a chance. Not be so . . . irritable around him. He’s helping you out.”

“I’m helping him out.”

“You are both in this together. But look at what he’s doing for you. Gave you a new car to drive rather than that hunk of junk Bug that barely gets around; you have all new clothes, which helps us, because, not to be mean, but now you look put together, which bodes well for business meetings; and he gave you a place to stay so you don’t have to live here with me, or worse, with Mom and Jeff. He also paid off your student loans, so you don’t have to worry about getting a job to pay those back, and can work with me instead. He’s done a lot, Lottie. And you went to dinner with him, to help him with some deal he’s trying to score. I’m not taking sides, but he seems to be doing a lot for you.”

“Well . . . when you put it like that, sure, he looks like a saint, but he’s anything but that. Trust me. He’s a pompous asshole. He’s rude and degrading, at times. He doesn’t treat me with respect.”

“Do you offer him respect or are you always fighting him? Knowing you, it’s probably the latter.”

My sister knows me far too well.

“He started it,” I say. “He came in ripe with the attitude. What was I supposed to do? Just sit back and take it? Hell no. He makes my life difficult? I’ll do the same.”

“So glad you didn’t lose your maturity in the move,” Kelsey says with sarcasm. “And even though this topic of Huxley Cane is entertaining, we have some work to do.” She brings her computer over to the table and hands it to me.

“What do you want me to do with this?”

“We need to start getting organized with the business, and oddly enough, that’s the part of this job I suck at. We have a meeting later today with a potentially huge client, and I want to make sure we have everything under control, so if they ask questions, we can give them exact numbers.”

“Exact numbers of . . .”

“You know, like inventory and financials. Things like that.”

I eye her suspiciously. “Why would they care about that?”

She rolls her eyes. “Rich people want to know how successful you are. I need you to make me look successful on paper.”

“Okay . . . what are you going to do?”

She pulls out her iPad and smiles. “Design, of course.”

“Of course.” Sighing, I open her computer. All the files we need on her computer are at the bottom, ready to be opened. “Am I going to hate you after this?”

“Possibly. But this is what you enjoy.”

“Oddly, it is.” I crack my fingers. “Let’s get to work, sis.”

“How do you turn off the car?” I ask, looking for an off button of some sort.

“I don’t think you turn it off,” Kelsey says, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“What do you mean, you don’t turn it off? There has to be an off button somewhere.”

She shakes her head. “I went out with a guy with the exact same car, and he just put it in park, got out, locked up and walked away. The car knows when you’re not in it anymore.” She gets out, and I grumble to myself as I put the car in park and get out myself.

Out of all the cars Huxley could have given me, he gave me one with a mind of its own. I press the keycard to the side of the window and watch as the side mirrors curl in toward the car.

“Is it locked?” I ask.

“I believe so.” Kelsey checks her watch. “Come on, we’re going to be late if we fiddle around with this thing anymore.”