Page 96 of Don't Make Me Beg
“Kennedy,” the young, blonde replies without missing a beat.
“Right, of course.” I nod, then open the box of donuts and offer her the first pick, it’s the least I can do for forgetting her name.
I laugh to myself when she chooses the sole strawberry glaze with sprinkles, Guy’s favorite. “Nice choice.”
I make my way down the hall, the sounds of my brother’s muffled voices growing louder. They seem pretty spirited for it not even being eight a.m. Well, technically eight o’eight now… but who’s really counting?
“You’re late—” Roman says, sending me a glare, and I stop dead in my tracks when I see Judge Sinclair sitting next to him.
He looks far too comfortable, reclined in his chair. He’s wearing a dark gray suit, his shiny black hair greased back, andthat pretentious fucking mustache framing his smug smile. My hand instinctively clenches into a fist at my side.
“And you brought donuts.” Guy jumps up from his seat, ready to dig in.
I cautiously take a seat, my eyes darting between Roman, Guy, and Leo, who’s also joined us virtually. I’m not sure what’s going on, but judging by the looks on their faces, they don’t seem happy about it… apart from Guy, anyway, but that’s not really saying much.
“Sorry, I didn’t get you anything. I didn’t realize you’d be joining us,” I say sarcastically as I slide Roman and Guy each their coffees, a double espresso with cinnamon and brown sugar for Roman and an iced strawberry matcha with extra strawberries for Guy.
Judge Sinclair waves off my apology. “It’s quite all right. I’m not much on processed food?—”
“Where’s my strawberry glaze? None of these donuts even have sprinkles, but there’s evidence of sprinkles in the empty space,” Guy blurts out, cutting him off. “Did you eat my fucking donut?”
He stomps toward me with pure murder in his eyes until Roman grabs the back of his shirt and tugs him away. “Knock it off.”
Guy sinks into his chair, now looking more hurt than angry.
“By all means, don’t stop on my account.” Judge Sinclair says, crossing an ankle over his knee like he’s making himself comfortable. “It’s fascinating getting a behind-the-scenes look into what you executives do all day.”
I choose to ignore him, helping myself to a chocolate glaze, like a normal fucking person. “No, I didn’t eat your disgusting strawberry donut. I accidentally forgot the new assistant’s name, and I felt bad, so I offered her a donut. She chose the pink one. Sucks for you, but it’s not my problem.”
“Well, now that we have the important business settled,” Leo says, his voice laced with annoyance and sarcasm.
Roman’s hand pauses over the donut box as if he’s reconsidering if he should partake but ultimately grabs one of the cream-filled glazed. It’s hard to be mad when donuts are involved; that’s just a fact.
“I believe Judge Sinclair has some information he’d like to bring to everyone’s attention regarding the murals Scout’s been working on,” Leo says, gesturing for Judge Sinclair to take the floor.
He clears his throat, that thin, artificially black mustache twitching above his smug grin. “Thank you, Leo.” He passes Roman a stack of papers from his briefcase, then settles back in his chair like he owns the place.
I fucking hate how comfortable he looks. I hope the chair gives out beneath him—just like the time Guy leaned too far back and crashed to the floor in the middle of a shareholder meeting.
“It’s recently been brought to my attention that you neglected to file for the proper permits for themuralyou’ve started painting downtown.”
I glance down at the notice in my hand, quickly scanning to see what the fuck he’s going on about. Apparently, we’re being sued by theHistorical Preservation Committee—something I’m just learning existed—for failing to file permits before altering Restaurant since it is considered a historic building.
I shake my head. “I’ve never heard of this committee, and it doesn’t matter anyway because the building is privately owned by my brother.” I toss the paper back at him. “So unless, Jett is bringing these charges, you can take your bullshit somewhere else.”
Roman and Leo seem to share a concerned look, and I hate that he’s making me look like a fuck up right now. I hate that I’vesomehow still managed to prove just how incompetent I really am.
Roman finally breaks the silence. “If what Judge Sinclair is saying is true, do they really have a case against us?” But his question is directed to Leo.
Leo lets out an exhausted sigh, burying his face in his hands as he massages his temples. “I’ll have to have our lawyers look into it.”
“This is bullshit and you know it.” I launch out of my seat and snatch up the discarded paper. “I may not be the best when it comes to attention to details, but if there was actually a fuckingHistorical Preservation Committee,I’m pretty sure I’d have been aware of it… considering this is the exact building I was sentenced to prison for vandalizing.” I spin to face my brothers, trying to get them to see through this whole facade. “Don’t you think if such a committee actually existed that he’d have used that to add a few more years to my sentencing?”
“It’s a fairly new committee,” Judge Sinclair interjects, a touch of humor in his tone. “But the age of the committee still doesn’t change your circumstances. You’re still in violation, and I am prepared to bring this to trial should you choose to ignore thiswarning.”
“See!” I point to the crooked judge, my blood boiling. “This is all part of his scheme. He’s just trying to get back at me for marrying Scout.”
Judge Sinclair tilts his head side to side, then shrugs.
