Page 10 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends
“That you hired someone whose family you’ve known since she was a teenager. It’s a conflict.”
“Hardly.”
“It’s nepotism.”
“She went through the same interview process as every other candidate.”
“Except that you knew her.”
“Barely. She’s Phil’s sister—it’s not like we hung out when we were kids. There’s more than ten years between us. I also know half the top-level talent in this city. That’s what happens when you’re in business for your whole life.”
“She’s a risk.”
“No,” I say, fingers tightening around my stylus. “She’s safe. That’s the word you used last time, isn’t it? Safe. Practically family. Not like Jenna, who you said flirted with half the office.”
Vivian sniffs. “She did.”
“She didn’t. She’s a lesbian. That cuts out more than half the office.”
“She wore backless blouses.”
“So have I.”
She tsks loudly. “Gavin, don’t get cute.”
“I am what I am.”
“She giggled in meetings.”
“She increased client retention by eighteen percent and handled seven major product holiday parties without a single error.”
“She sat on Harrison’s desk.”
“I don’t care if she sat on the damn chandelier. She was a phenomenal assistant, and you ran her out of the company with your whispers and judgment.” Not quite. But close enough.
Vivian’s tone sharpens. “I didn’t run anyone out. She left because she knew she wasn’t getting promoted.”
“She left because she married someone with more Oscars than you have cheekbones.”
“That’s not hard.”
I allow myself one slow, deliberate breath. “She didn’t flirt with anyone,” I say. “And even if she had, that wouldn’t have been a crime.” Never mind the fact that Jenna fell for the same actress/influencer I was sleeping with. It happens. She was still a damn good executive assistant, and I won’t stand for Mother disparaging her.
“She made the office feel undisciplined.”
“An assistant didn’t damage the brand. Your obsession with image did.”
Silence. Only for a second. But long enough that I know I’ve scored a direct hit.
So, she pivots. “You’d have fewer headaches if you hired a man.”
“And more lawsuits.”
“Don’t be glib.”
“I’m not. You don’t care about competence, you care about optics. You want VT to look perfect more than you want it to function well.”
Her voice lowers to a hiss. “I spent thirty years building a brand synonymous with elegance, discretion, and restraint. I won’t let that be undone by one ill-advised elevator ride.”
