Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
It’s also not lost on me that her father just came home. Now I’m standing on his doorstep, and I haven’t even asked about him.
“How is your old man?”
“He’s doing well! Um, I heard you helped with his treatment, so thanks for that. For what you did. Just don’t make me slam the door in your face.” She looks at her feet. “Oh, and that Jeep tour your guy recommended was fire. So were the tacos. Pretty GOAT.” She looks up and grins.
“You’re welcome,” I mutter, unsure what that even means in Zoomer-speak.
“It was pretty cool of you. Most rich dudes are selfish pricks.”
I don’t exactly disagree. I’m just amused as I ask, “How many rich guys do you know?”
“Well, just you. And according to my sister, you’re still a jerkasaurus. Just less scary than the time you broke into her hotel room and decided to shower instead of murdering her.”
“She’s still on that?” I try not to groan into my hand.
“Not my monkey, not my circus.”
“Maisy, you’ve got to help me out,” I say tightly.
“Why?”
I hang my head. This is my life now.
Ten digits in my investment portfolio, and I’m reduced to begging a teenager for help.
“I need to talk to your sister. What can I do to make that happen? You’re her sister, you must know something.”
She chews a finger in the corner of her mouth, thinking.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. Pippa doesn’t date much. And you kinda waited too long to come after her. This isn’t 1990 or whatever with relationships. You could’ve called or texted anytime.”
“Hey, I’m not that old,” I throw back.
“Well...I do think you’re gonna have to do more than just show up and mumble a few apologies. You need some serious groveling. Like rom-com level,” she says.”
“Rom-com? What the hell are you—”
“Dude, I’ve thrown you a bone. You’re crazy rich and a thousand people work for you. Figure it out.” The kid rolls her eyes.
The Renee sisters clearly have the same backbone.
“If you were me, what would you do?”
“...I wouldn’t be you, for one.”
“But if you were—”
“Look, I’m not even sure what happened. She didn’t mention it until I got back from Mexico, but I’ve listened in when she talks to Jenn. If Pippa thinks you suck rotten eggs, I believe her.”
The way I wince isn’t helping my rotten egg impression, I guess.
“You must have friends for this, right? Go talk to your bros,” she says. “I wish I could help smooth things over, but I’m not stepping on her privacy. You haven’t even done the basics yet.”
“The basics?”
“Insect level stuff. You haven’t tried talking to her in more than a week after a huge shit-fight. Now, you show up unannounced and empty-handed. Like, where are the flowers? The new iPhone? The badass new car? You’re rich, dude.” She slumps against the wall, laughing at her own humor.
I’m not amused.
“I’m not my big sister, but I have to say you didn’t put much thought in. Piper had three promposals back in the day—”
“Promposal?”
“Google it. She was a cheerleader! The point is, she’s not gonna make up with some guy who can’t get creative when he owns pretty much everything.”
“Understood,” I say numbly.
“Good luck!” She disappears behind the door as it closes.
In the back seat of the SUV, I Google promposal.
Apparently, it’s a newer practice where boys do all-out proposals to get prom dates.
Jesus, I’m lucky I wasn’t born in this new century.
I hit the button to lower the privacy window.
“How much did you fuck up?” Fyodor asks instantly.
“Enough. She wouldn’t talk to me.”
“Give her time. The heart speaks slower than the head and women always listen.”
“Some Russian proverb?” I raise a brow.
“Mine,” he answers smugly. “She will come around, sir.”
I hate that he talks like it’s a done deal.
“Her sister told me I’m not trying hard enough. I don’t even know what that means.”
“What have you tried?” Fyo chuckles once.
I scratch my head and look out the window, coming up with nothing.
“I still don’t understand how this happened, boss.”
I sigh. I filled him in—mostly—but it’s not his damn wheelhouse. Intel and dirty jobs are what he does best, and he’s got plenty of that on his plate.
“Finch happened,” I snarl, toying with asking him to put out a hit on that sack of shit right now.
“And she blames you for that? She doesn’t think you were protecting her?”
I shake my head slowly.
“She doesn’t blame me at all, Fyo. Hell, she offered to quit her job to stop the gossip and help me.”
“Let her. Where is problem?”
Right here.
I’m the damn problem.
“We know Finch won’t stop, and I won’t risk Piper getting dragged into more bullshit aimed at me. I told her to leave Seattle until after the fashion show and the awards. When she refused, I asked her to leave me. I didn’t fucking mean it, but she did.”