Page 4 of Some Like It Hott

“It’s a sad day when your own brother won’t return your calls.”

Franklin raises his eyebrows. “Have you tried being nice to him?”

I glare at him.

“Just a question,” he says, shrugging. “It’s a strategy that might work for you…every once in a while.”

“He’s my brother. I don’t have to be nice to him.”

“Is there anyone you feel like you do need to be nice to?”

“I’m nice to you,” I remind him.

He rolls his eyes. “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means,” he says, Inigo-Montoya-of-Princess-Bridestyle.

Franklin, unlike my last assistant, can take the heat, which is one of the things I like best about him. He gives as good as he gets—which reminds me of my brothers, actually—and he’s stellar at his job. Which is why if he says Rhys hasn’t called, I know it’s true.

If my last assistant had said it, I’d assume he lost the message.

“You did get…” Franklin consults his tablet. “Fourteen messages from Arthur Weggers.”

“Shit.” Arthur Weggers is my grandfather’s lawyer and the absolute last person I want to hear from. “Can you give me thetoo long; didn’t read?”

“Messages one through six: Can we please reschedule last week’s meeting that you failed to attend?”

“Predictable.” I had my reasons—very good reasons—for blowing off the meeting in Weggers’s office. And I wouldn’t expect him to walk away without a fight.

“There are also forty-three text messages and nine phone calls from people claiming to be your siblings also wanting to know what the hell you’re thinking and what the fuck you think you’re doing.”

“I told them what I was thinking and what the fuck I’m doing,” I say calmly. “I can’t possibly leave New York right now with this deal and this promotion on the line. What about messages seven through fourteen from Weggers?”

“They say that if you don’t call him to reschedule, he’ll take some kind of unspecified action to compel you to show up.”

I wave a hand. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Not worried.”

“Not that it’s any of my business exactly, but what meeting did you fail to show up for?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“As predicted,” he says, unruffled. “But don’t you think I might be able to do more to help you make this dude Weggers disappear if I knew what I was dealing with?”

See, this is why I like Franklin. He doesn’t take anything personally, and he always steps up.

Still, I hesitate before airing the laundry. Because…well, it’s so…

Ridiculous.

But Franklin’s right, and I will do anything to make Weggers disappear.

If only.

I gather myself for the reveal. “When my grandfather died last year, he left this will that said there would be a letter for each of my brothers—five of us in total. The letters would come at a time and date chosen by him, via Weggers. Two of them have been read already—Quinn’s and Shane’s. The letters contain elaborate instructions we have to comply with. We don’t know when they’ll be read or what the instructions are going to say, but if what happened to my two other brothers is any indication, mine’s going to be extremely disruptive and require me to spend at least several weeks, if not months, in Oregon. Which is not what I need when I’m trying to seal this deal and score this promotion.”

“Jesus,” my assistant says. “That’s?—”

“Next-level manipulative bullshit from a dead guy I stopped talking to when I was twenty-one,” I agree.

Franklin frowns. “I didn’t even know dead guys could be manipulative.”

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