Page 51 of The Name Drop

And it’s why I can’t tell her now either.

She stares at me for a second, assessing. I don’t blink. I don’t swallow. I don’t open my mouth.

I’m so busted.

And then a smile forms on her face. “Holy cow. This means we’re gonna come way under budget. We might be able to give a cash reward to the second-place team too,” she says, her voice full of excitement.

“That’s awesome,” Jason says. He reaches over and pats me on the back.

“Yeah, uh, awesome,” I say. And honestly, it is. We can give another deserving team a little financial support and no one has to know where it came from. Not Jason. Not Jessica. And not even my dad.

I hate that I was dishonest to do it. But I convince myself that the ends justify the means. I don’t regret it one bit. Apparently I’m getting really good at this lying thing...even to myself.

“I’m so sorry. But this can’t be helped. We have to figure out the opening keynote tonight. If Bill Gates can’t come anymore, we’re screwed unless I can conjure up a replacement. Have fun without me. I’m so bummed. Tell Jessica I’m sorry. Also, don’t forget that the reservation is for La Masseria at ten o’clock after the show. Have the pork with truffle sauce and tell me how it is. The raves of that dish have made it all the way over to Korea. Gotta run.”

My sister hangs up on the other line and I’m staring at myself in the mirror of one of the extra rooms in the brownstone, having not gotten a single word in edgewise. I’m wearing dark Louis Vuitton jeans and a black Tom Ford button-down. They’re both tailored to fit me exactly, though I’ve never had anyone take my measurements for either. Sometimes wealth, and what is attainable with it, is a mystery even to me.

I step into my Celine boots and head downstairs.

Mrs. Choi comes out of the kitchen. “Oh, excuse me, I thought you were Jessica-ssi.” She gives me a once-over and narrows her eyes. I don’t think she likes that a strange boy has come out of one of the bedrooms. But the fact that she clearly has no idea who I am gives me a sense of relief. I’m quite certain all of our staff have signed some form of NDA, and Mrs. Choi seems to value her job enough not to spill any information even if she found out I was the CEO’s kid instead of Jessica. But still, it makes it easier if she’s in the dark. “I’ve prepared a light snack for you both as requested by the lady of the house,” she says.

“Thank you so much. That sounds fantastic,” I say. She smiles, and it strikes me that I don’t see a lot of the people who work for my family smile that often. Also, I don’t say thank you that much either. And that sucks. I’ve come to learn that it feels really good to be appreciated for your work, no matter the task.

Jesus Christ. I am a privileged asshole. Being a kind human doesn’t have to be that hard. Note to self: you’ve got a lot of thank-yous to make up for. Give them out more generously.

A sound from the second floor of the brownstone makes me look up, and I immediately have to catch my breath. Jessica is walking down the stairs in a fitted red sheath dress. It’s sleeveless and simple and perfectly tailored, hugging just the right places. At midthigh, a ruffle circles the hem. It’s conservative but sexy. She has on simple gold sandals with a kitten heel, and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail with the ends curled. I’ve never once in my life looked twice at a neck or a collarbone on anyone before, but now I feel they’re fighting to be my favorite body part. I notice every single thing about her. But it’s when she catches my eyes and smiles that I can’t focus on anything else but that.

I swallow the lump in my throat. I know I should say something, tell her how stunning she looks, but my mind can’t seem to form the words.

“Wow, you look hot,” Jessica says. Guess she found the words first. “Like,hothot. Like, you’re already hot in those off-the-rack T-shirts, but now I think maybe I didn’t know the full impact of how hot you could be until I saw you in these very expensive, fits like a glove, looks-like-they-were-made-for-you-and-maybe-they-actually-were clothes, which makes it very obvious thatthisis what hot is supposed to look like.”

The side of my mouth quirks. Her eyes grow huge and she slaps her hand over her mouth.

“Oh my god,” she whispers behind her palm. “I can’t believe I just said all of that. Kill me now.”

“No, no, I actually recorded it on my phone. You know, for days when I need to be reminded that I can behothot. Not just hot,” I tease.

“I’m nervous and was so focused on not falling down the stairs in these heels that I forgot to turn on my filter. And I’m now mortified.”

“Well, if it helps, I think you lookhothot too,” I say. Her cheeks pinken a little and if the heat I’m feeling is any indication, mine likely have too.

“Thanks. It’s Prada.”

I raise my eyebrows, impressed. A few weeks ago, Jessica didn’t seem to know any designer names. Now she’s dropping them like she’s worn couture her whole life.

“The shoes are Jimmy Choo and the purse is YSL,” she says, rounding out the outfit. And then she breaks into a giggle. “I’ve always wanted to list off ‘who I’m wearing’ like on the red carpet of an award show.”

So. Fucking. Cute.

“Very nice,” I say.

“Well, to be honest, your sister kinda helped me pick out what to wear. She even made me try stuff on over FaceTime while she was at the office. I was so embarrassed, but she would not take no for an answer. She might have been more excited than I was to find my perfect look for tonight.”

“Speaking of Hee-Jin, did she tell you that she can’t make it out with us tonight?”

Jessica nods. “I’m so bummed she got stuck at the office.”

“Yeah, she’s a bit of a workaholic.”

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