Page 12 of Strictly the Worst

“It’s fine,” Holden says. “Just run things past me before you book anything.”

“Sure.” I nod. “Anything else? Want me to get us matching velour pant suits with our names on the butt?”

“Don’t joke about velour pant suits,” Liam says, wincing. “Remember when our moms got matching ones?”

Ugh, yes I do. Our moms are best friends. Which to most people sounds weird. They were love rivals at one point, but you’d never believe it now. They spend a lot of time together, go on vacations together.

Sometimes with my dad and his latest wife.

No wonder we’re all messed up.

“Okay then. One bachelor party, coming up,” I say. “Same date we agreed on before?”

“Yep.” Holden nods. It’s just under a month away.

“Cool. I’ll start booking things. I’ll keep you updated from Exuma.”

“You’re going to Exuma?” Brooks asks. “Why?”

“A work thing.”

Myles laughs. “Only you would go to a tropical island for a work thing.”

“Right?” Holden grins. “How’d you get to be the luckiest sonofabitch in New York City?”

“Because I’m good at my job.” I arch an eyebrow at him. And he has the good grace to look a little embarrassed. Because that’s the other thing about being the second youngest in our family, I rarely get any praise for doing what is actually a hard role.

Sure, it’s a dream traveling all over the world. But when I get there I’m often faced with angry clients threatening to leave, occasionally threatening to sue the company. And it’s my job – and only mine – to soothe them. To make them feel special. And nine times out of ten I come away not only with a happy client but also with a renewed contract and an increased budget.

Holden couldn’t do it. Eli couldn’t either. Liam could possibly, but Myles, he’d scare them off before he opened his damn mouth.

And sure, I couldn’t do their jobs either. But at least I give them credit for how hard they work.

Which makes me think about Tessa again. The way she looked when I waltzed into her meeting with Roman. Even worse, her expression when he told her I’d be going to Grand Exuma.

I rarely get stuck on things like this. Easy come, easy go.

But damn, there’s a feeling of guilt in my stomach I don’t like at all. It makes the mimosa taste weird. I much prefer being annoyed with her.

“So, about those strippers,” Brooks says, taking a bite of one of the pastries the server put in the center of the table. “Can we have maybe just a couple?”

TESSA

It’s late on Monday afternoon and I can’t put it off any longer. So I hold my hand up and rap on Roman’s door. His executive assistant has left for the day. In fact, most people have. Zoe is at a friend’s house for dinner, and I don’t have to pick her up until eight, so I took the opportunity to finish up some work while I had the time.

And I can’t leave until I’ve spoken to Roman. Otherwise Angela will kill me. She’s been calling all afternoon to ask if I’ve met with him yet.

Of course I’ve ignored her calls. But I know her well. She’ll come to the house if I don’t pick up soon. So I’ve pulled up my big girl panties and I’m going to get this project back even if it kills me.

“Come in,” Roman calls out after I’ve knocked twice.

When I push the door open, I see him on the treadmill in the corner of his expansive office. He’s wearing jogging pants and a t-shirt, with one of those thick headbands with speakers built-in that all the runners seem to be wearing at the moment.

He pulls one ear down. “Tessa. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. I just wondered if I could have a word.”

He looks at the display on his treadmill, then at me again. “Sure. Let’s walk and talk.”

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