Page 54 of Who's Your Daddy
“No,” Sully groans. “The Berkshires are our biggest client. Brian can go.”
“No, he can’t,” Lola says, suddenly standing in the doorway. “We were just granted an appearance in front of Judge Gasper. Brian has to fix the empty certified mail debacle.” She narrows her focus on Amy who’s once again staring up at the ceiling, completely unaware of how Lola would probably like to pummel her with her tiny fists.
“Oh, I love Joey Berkshire,” the ditzy intern says.
Huh. Maybe she’s listening after all. Joey is the youngest of the three older Berkshire daughters. She just won Dancing with the Stars and has millions of followers on Instagram. On top of all that, she and Libby Sweet are friends. I can’t imagine she won’t be at this event.
This is my cue to go in for the kill.
Tongue in my cheek, I shrug. “Okay,” I say, tone easy, posture relaxed, “Amy can go with me.”
If I thought Lola’s little angry huffs were adorable, they’ve got nothing on the fire-breathing dragon she morphs into as she looks from me to Amy to Sully.
She balls her tiny hands into fists, her chest heaving with angry breaths, and my cock jumps.
“Absolutely not.”
I’ve witnessed plenty of angry tirades from this woman. I’ve pissed her off more times than I can count. But I’ve never witnessed this tone from her. It’s as if the devil himself has possessed her. Or maybe it’s Sebastian.
Every single head snaps in her direction.
Even Brian peeks in, hand on the door as if her words forced him back. “What’s going on?”
“This one,” Lola thumbs at me, “suggested that he go to the Sweet charity event this weekend because this one”—She jabs an angry finger at my brother—“cancelled. He doesn’t want to go without Sloane. And these two seem to think that this one”—Her voice pitches higher as she motions toward Amy—“can handle mingling with our biggest clients.”
Lola’s practically steaming now, her face red, fly-aways escaping her braid. She’s completely unraveling.
Because of me.
She’s jealous overme.
I think.
Just one more tiny push to confirm it.
“What’s the problem? Amy would look lovely in a dress”—I give the girl a wink—“and she can help me make conversation.”
Lola throws out an arm. “I just caught her chatting with the wall.”
“I was talking to the ghost,” Amy retorts.
Biting back the laugh that wants so desperately to escape, I say, “No fair, Sebastian hasn’t talked to me yet. I even left dinner for him last night.”
“These two cannot represent the firm,” Lola hisses.
Crossing my arms, I lean back against the wall, my job here done.
Brian, Sully, and Lola talk over one another, arguing it out. In a matter of seconds, I see the lightbulb click on behind Sully’s eyes. This is it. It’s bloody brilliant and the only real answer to this problem.
“You’re right, Lo,” he says. “You’ll go.”
Bingo.
“What?” the fiery little object of my affection growls.
“Yes, you and Cal.” My brother turns to me. “I’ll watch Murphy. The boys have hit it off. Spending the weekend together will help T. J. settle in. And it’ll make Sloane more comfortable. All settled.”
They walked right into my plan.
