Page 57 of Lush

CEO of the company I never planned to run, cleaning up a mess I never made. Some days, it felt like justice. Other days, it felt like a curse.

Snatching my phone, I pulled up Blair’s contact, my thumb hovering over the call button. I wanted to yell at her and demand answers, but another part of me, the part that trusted her for years, hesitated.

I tossed my phone down and glanced at the lineup of samplebottles on my desk. I grabbed the lime-basil tequila and poured myself a shot. The aroma hit first—bright and fresh—and then the taste followed, smooth with a subtle kick of herbs.

“Damn,” I muttered, setting down the glass. “That’s it.”

Blair could explain herself if she wanted; she knew how to reach me.

I looked at my whiteboard; I needed to finalize the marketing.

Influencers? Nah, overplayed. Celebrities? Maybe, but it depends on if they’re a good fit. Someone real. Someone raw. Someone who could sell a dream without making it feel like a pitch.

A knock snapped me out of it.

“Yeah?”

The door creaked open, and my assistant peeked in. “Erik King, sir.”

Erik? What the hell was he doing here? I got nervous, and I really tried not to show it. Laurene’s brother didn’t just pop in unexpectedly. Especially not after the argument she and I had last night.

No doubt she’d told him everything.

“Send him in.”

My assistant nodded and disappeared, leaving the door ajar. A moment later, Erik walked in.

“King,” I said, leaning against my desk. “Laurene sent you to do the dirty work?”

Ignoring the jab, he stepped in. “This is where you think, huh? Didn’t know you did that.”

“I try to keep thinking down to once every quarter. Grab a drink. This one’s basil-lime tequila—smooth as hell.” I pointed to the sample bottles.

He walked over, hands in pockets. He eyed the liquor before pouring a shot, giving it a slow swirl before taking a sniff. “What if it sucks?”

“Then you can brag about surviving.”

Erik flipped me the bird just before he slammed the shot. His expression didn’t change as he set the glass down, rolling his shoulders like it was just water.

“Not bad,” he admitted. “Still waiting on the kick, though.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “What do you need?”

Erik started walking around my office, looking at my notes. “You smoke?”

“Sure.”

Erik tossed me a cigar, sat down, and took out his lighter. He lit it, still eyeing my office while giving me the lighter. “How do you feel about this arranged marriage?”

“Is that what you want to discuss?”

I lit my cigar, inhaling its oaky flavor as Erik stared. “It wasn’t in my plans.”

“But you’re real comfortable, aren’t you? With Laurene, this whole marriage thing—no tension, no hesitation, not a lot of fighting on your part.”

I shot him a dirty look. “What are you getting at?”

“When we were kids, Laurene used to scrape her knees climbing the old maple tree in the backyard. Mama told her not to do it. Laurene’s stubborn, so she did it anyway, and Mama expected it. She told me, ‘You’re the oldest. You take care of your sisters, no matter what.’”

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