I push out of my chair and round my desk, so I’m standing in front of him. It frustrates me that I have to look up to meet his gaze, but there’s no way he’s getting away with such heinous accusations. “I don’t care if this is your company now. I am not your employee, and you have absolutely no right to barge into my office and make unwarranted assumptions based on my salary. Secondly, I have no idea what your relationship was like with Fredrick, or how you’ve framed your opinion of him, but at no time during my contract did he ever make a pass at me—God rest his troubled soul.”
He’s the king of squinty eyes with all the narrowing he does at me. “What does that mean, ‘God rest his troubled soul?’”
“Have you met your brother? He’s a goddamn human parasite.”
If I had to guess, his lips are pursed, but I can’t tell through the lumberjack beard. The only version of him I like remotely so far is the drunk one. Although, my job isn’t to like him, it’s to make him presentable.
“Is it really a surprise that I’m being paid this much money to sort out Armstrong’s shitstorm? While you’ve been off saving the world, I’ve been trying to clean up his messes. And let me tell you, I earn every damn dollar because there are a lot of messes, and I hope you’re not going to be the same kind of problem, because if that’s the case, I’ll be renegotiating for more money.”
“You’re trying to tell me you make this kind of money for babysitting my brother?”
That’s it in a nutshell, but that makes me feel … like I’m falling short on my potential. This job as a whole makes me feel that way. I imagine it’s what it would be like to get a degree in journalism with the hope that I’d be writing stories for Time magazine or a reputable paper and end up writing clickbait articles on things like giant cocks or tattoo regrets instead.
“I make that money for ensuring his previous bad behavior isn’t splashed all over the media and whatever else that entails.”
“It’s the ‘whatever else that entails’ that I want to know more about.”
I mirror his crossed-arm pose. “Not that I need to defend myself to you, but I would rather sleep with an angry grizzly bear than allow your brother to touch me.”
Lincoln arches a brow. “He put his hands on you today.”
“And as you witnessed, I handled him. I have authorization to restrain or subdue him if the situation calls for it. It’s written into my contract. Are there any other family members you’d like to accuse me of sleeping with to validate my salary? Your mother or grandmother perhaps?”
His eyes flare, and he makes a gagging sound. He straightens and runs his palm over his scraggly beard.
I want to take a brush to it. And to his hair. The unruliness is driving me nuts.
He’s still staring at me, and I’m still staring at his mess of hair. I doubt he even bothered to brush it this morning. Thank God I don’t have to wait long before it’s taken care of. “Well?”
“That’s just…”
“Horrifying to consider? Which is exactly how I feel about the possibility of sleeping with any member of your family in exchange for money. I may handle a lot of unpleasant things, but your brother’s penis is certainly not one of them and never will be. Are we quite done here?”
“Uh, I guess.” He has the decency to appear chagrined. He makes a move toward the door but stops and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Wait, no. You were at the funeral. And then you were at the bar last night.”
“I was.” I nod and fold my hands behind my back so as to appear composed rather than nervous. I sincerely didn’t believe he’d remember me. Now I have to question exactly how much he recalls.
“You took me to my cousin’s penthouse. Where I’m staying. You were in my personal space. Why did you do that?”
There really isn’t a point in lying. If he doesn’t trust me, it’s going to complicate my role here. “Because I was asked to ensure you made it home safely. You were drinking heavily and your presence was needed here today.”
“You gave me painkillers.”
“And water, yes.”
“Was that part of your job as well?”
“To help nurse your hangover? No. But it was meant to make my job easier today, although I’m not sure it’s had the impact I would’ve liked. You’re rather surly despite my efforts to make your hangover less of an issue.” A thank-you would be nice, though I doubt I’ll get one.
For a split second it almost looks like there’s a smile under all that beard. “So, just doing your job?”