4. James
4
JAMES
“ W hat the hell, man? Were you still in bed?”
My brother leaned against the door to his apartment and squinted at me like the hallway light was hurting his eyes. “Maybe.”
He swiped his hand over the stubble along his cheeks.
“For fuck’s sake, Christopher.” I sighed, knocking into him as I pushed my way past him into the dark room. “It’s nearly nine!”
Lately, it felt like we’d swapped roles, with me as the caretaker and my older brother as the one who needed guidance.
“It’s eight fifteen,” he corrected in a sleepy voice, shuffling behind me. “Early.”
“It might be early for the rest of the world, but not a Branson,” I shot back. “Whatever happened to your 6 a.m. runs through Central Park?”
He plopped down on the couch and shrugged. “I’m taking a little break. Speaking of unhealthy life choices, is there a blueberry muffin for me in that La Patisserie bag?” Christopher grinned and patted his stomach.
“Yeah. It’s Lorraine’s birthday, so you know the drill. Figured I’d pick up a muffin for you as an excuse to come annoy the shit out of you.”
I threw the bag at him, and he snatched it from the air without missing a beat.
“Mission accomplished, I’m annoyed,” he lied with a wide grin. He dug out the muffin and took a giant bite. “Is the Bern-meister still enforcing that old tradition? ‘The Bransons need to show that we value our employees,’” he said, mimicking her voice. “She wouldn’t know if you skipped it.”
I narrowed my eyes at my brother. “Oh, she’d find out somehow. And you know how superstitious she is. If word got out that a Branson assistant didn’t get the special birthday treatment, there’d be hell to pay. Did I want to waste a chunk of my morning fighting uptown traffic to pick up a cake for Lorraine before work? Absolutely not. Did I do it to avoid The Wrath of Bernadette Branson: our founder, matriarch, and busybody grandmother? Ab-so-fucking-lutely.”
Christopher laughed, and my heart lifted a little to see it. The dimness in his apartment was usually a good indicator that his mood was equally dark, but maybe he was heading into brighter days?
“You got any juice?” I asked as I walked to his kitchen.
It was an excuse for me to check out the rest of the place, to see just how deep his depression was at the moment. At least there were no overflowing ashtrays or empty pill bottles scattered around. It was actually surprisingly tidy, almost like he was expecting company. Sadly, I knew that wasn’t a possibility. Christopher barely allowed me in, let alone someone outside the family. The isolation wasn’t healthy, and I hated to see him hiding from the world. I wanted to be there for him, but the time was coming for me to start giving my brother some tough love.
“Do I have juice?” he called after me. “Pick your flavor. Orange, guava, mango, demonberry…”
“What the hell is demonberry?” I asked as I pulled his Subzero open.
“Ha, gotcha! Just checking to make sure you’re listening.”
I gazed at the fully stocked refrigerator and breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was eating.
“I always listen to you,” I said as I made my way back and sat across from him. “You should know that by now.”
“I do. And I appreciate it. But no need to walk on eggshells today.” He balled up the empty pastry bag and threw it at me, nailing me on the forehead. “I’m feeling good.”
“Asshole.” I glowered at him, hiding the fact that I was happy he was doing better. I waited until he glanced away to toss the bag back at him, drilling him squarely on the nose.
“Do you want to go, bro?” Christopher asked with mock tough-guy attitude, pumping up his chest. “Because I’ll throw down with you right now. Let’s do this.”
I laughed. “Listen, I don’t want to hurt you. I haven’t been slacking on my workouts like some people.”
Christopher’s phone rang and he grabbed it from the coffee table. “Oh shit.” He hopped up to answer it. “Hey, Anderson, what’s wrong?”
Anderson Williams, Christopher’s divorce attorney. Calling this early in the day wasn’t a great sign. I watched my brother start pacing as he listened, noting the way his expression shifted from confusion to the hardness we’d all become so familiar with. As much as I wanted to be support for him, it wasn’t my place to eavesdrop. He glanced over at me and drew his hand across his throat slowly. That was my cue to head out.
I walked a few steps closer to him. “You sure?” I asked in a low voice.
He frowned and nodded, then turned away from me. “Hold on, hold on, she said what ?”
I let myself out and thought about Christopher’s state of mind on the ride back to the office. Navigating New York traffic on a workday was hell, and even though I had a half dozen sports cars to choose from, I appreciated that I could count on my driver, Hector. Especially since I had so much to mull over after the visit with my brother. His ex had put him through hell, and by the sound of the call, it wasn’t even close to over. My phone buzzed with a text right as Hector came to a stop outside the building.
“Mission accomplished?”
Damnit, it was as if my grandmother had spies everywhere, despite being officially retired. I knew she still had access to the company calendar, and I was absolutely certain she also had her fair share of plants who kept her updated on the gossip that I avoided getting into, but did she also have access to the surveillance cameras? I sent her a photo of the cake box.
“Give me some credit,” I texted back.
My phone rang because she hated texting. “I do give you credit, just checking up on you, sweetie. You saw Christopher this morning, yes?”
I wasn’t surprised that she seemed to know my every move when it came to our family and our business.
“Yeah. He seemed good at first…but then Anderson called while I was there, and it sounded pretty bad. He’s gonna be a mess after that. I need to take him to dinner or something.”
“James,” she sighed. “Yes, you should be there for your brother, but don’t forget about taking care of yourself. You get too wrapped up in his problems.”
It was just like my grandmother to turn the conversation back onto me. I might not have had addiction and divorce in my past but I’d definitely been through my fair share of tough times.
Not that I wanted to think about them.
“Hey, Bern, I just pulled in and I need to get moving. Busy day on the books. We’ll talk soon, okay?”
“Of course, any time, my dear. Tell Lorraine I said happy birthday.”
The second I got to my floor I realized that I needed to drop the cake off in the kitchen refrigerator five floors up. This stupid tradition was making me later than I already was. Frustrated with myself for being so disorganized, I stormed back to the elevator and slapped the button, feeling like an absolute dork for being tasked with cake duty when it was something another assistant could’ve handled. But I wasn’t about to go head-to- head with Bernie on her silly traditions. There were bigger, more troubling issues we needed to address.
Where the fuck was the elevator? I pushed the button three more times. It finally hit my floor, and the doors opened so slowly that I wanted to reach in and pry them open. Was it something building management could fix? I was so frustrated that I didn’t even glance up until I was all the way in the elevator.
“ Mr. Branson !”
The shriek made me jump, and it was then I realized that the door had slid shut behind me and I was now alone in the elevator with none other than Natalie Reynolds.
And she was topless.
Natalie
“Don’t look at me!” I yelped. “My coffee—I mean my shirt , I tripped and?—”
The man kept his eyes downcast and held up a hand to silence me. “So this is how you’re starting off your first day? Undressing in our elevator?”
I froze with my arms crossed over my chest. “I’m…I’m not undressing .”
“Littering, too,” he continued, pointing to the empty coffee cup rolling on the ground between us. “Maybe give this new position a little time before treating our office like your living room?”
He finally raised his eyes to mine, obviously expecting some sort of groveling out of me.
“I tripped and spilled my coffee on my blouse ,” I said slowly, over-enunciating like he didn’t speak English. “My empty cup.” I pointed to it. “My soaking wet blouse.” I held up the ruined thing and accidentally exposed my bra-clad boob to him.
To his credit, he only let his eyes dip to my chest for a half-second. His scowl didn’t budge despite the fact that I was practically falling out of my bra. I glanced down and noticed the edge of my nipple peeking over the coffee-stained lace, so I recrossed my arms.
“And what was your plan after you removed your blouse?” he asked, staring at the floor. “Branson Designs welcomes individuality, but we do have a dress code, you know. I don’t think…” he craned his neck to briefly scan my chest, “…a demi-cup, vertical seam, embroidered mesh and lace bra makes the cut for appropriate attire. Especially with that coffee stain.”
I felt my cheeks go hot. It was easy to assume that James Branson was just a numbers guy, or a nepo-hire for the company, but his split-second assessment of my lingerie proved that he knew his shit.
“Yeah, I was going to parade around in my bra all day, you nailed it,” I said, sneering at him. “No, I happen to have a spare T-shirt in my bag. Don’t worry, I’ll still look presentable.”
“I never said you don’t look presentable,” he replied quickly, holding my gaze and sending a shiver up my spine.
I crossed my arms tighter, knowing full well that doing so pushed my breasts higher. The pressure in the elevator shifted, and it wasn’t just due to the rapid ascent.
“I said parading around half dressed is not appropriate ,” he continued, still staring at me in that disconcerting way. “We have bathrooms, you know.”
He probably assumed that I’d fold, but I straightened my back and didn’t blink.
“Yeah, and exactly how am I supposed to find those?” I replied. “It’s not like there was anyone waiting to show me where to go. Real welcoming place you have here.”
He grimaced, finally looking a little apologetic. “We do have HR reps meet new hires—but you were already on record as an employee on the retail side, so that must have slipped through the cracks.”
“Well, then I guess you can add this to my employee file.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “‘Adaptable. Self-starter. Walks into a situation and immediately?—'”
“Takes off her shirt?” he said with a smirk.
“‘—starts solving problems,’” I finished, pulling on my T-shirt. “Problem,” I said, gesturing to my coffee-soaked shirt, Vanna White–style. “Solved,” I concluded, gesturing to myself.
“I’ll make a note of it,” he said. “right after the singing stuff. And don’t forget the pornography.”
“Excuse me?” It came out in an indignant yelp.
The elevator finally slowed to a stop, and the asshole turned to me with a half-smile.
“‘ Does that blush upon your cheeks mean I may continue my journey ,’” he said in a low voice.
“What…what do you even mean—” I froze when I realized that he was quoting my audiobook. “Oh, come on. That was an accident!”
He shrugged a shoulder, standing in the doorway of the open elevator with his foot keeping it open.
“Will you get out of my way so I can get out already? I need to get to my workstation.”
“ You may ,” he replied, and moved his foot so the door closed before I could say anything back.
“ W orst first day ever,” I groaned as I collapsed onto the floor, eyeing the suspicious stain on the corner of the area rug. Where had that come from? “And now you’re making me do pushups.”
“Technically, it wasn’t your first day,” Stephanie reminded me. “And it’s good to sweat out your frustrations. Five more, let’s go.”
I grunted my displeasure. “It was my first day with a brand-new asshole of a boss.” I raised myself into position again. As much as I hated training with Steph in our little family room, she was right: I always felt better once I was done.
“That James guy?” she asked, squatting beside me, to make sure I was getting low enough with each rep. “The one who gave you the job?”
My arms were screaming but I wasn’t about to give up. I wasn’t a quitter.
“No, James the hot asshole is my boss’s boss.” I knocked out a shaky pushup. “I report to a guy named Clint, and oh my fucking god, he’s the worst.” I paused at the top of the pushup to look at Steph. “Insulted me in every way possible. Said my work was amateurish, even though it’s exactly what got me promoted in the first place.”
Talking about Clint made me so mad that I managed to finish the last reps strong.
“Nice work,” Steph said, giving me a smack on my shoulder. “And that dude sounds like he sucks.”
“No kidding.” I rolled onto my back. “I asked a question about their approval process, and I swear to you, Steph, the guy laughed at me and said it was a stupid question! Like, in front of the entire team. On my first day.”
“Oof.” She plopped down next to me. “Not good.”
“Exactly! I was seriously having flashbacks to Dylan.”
“Dylan,” she sneered. “Worst boyfriend ever. I think you’ve got PTSD from that relationship,” Steph said. “So are you going to quit?”
I lifted my T-shirt to wipe the sweat off my forehead. “I thought about it when Clint called me a hack, but then I remembered my new salary and swallowed my pride. Next semester’s tuition is due soon.”
“Can’t you, like, go up the chain of command? Talk to his boss or something?”
I choked out a laugh. “You mean James ? Yeah, he hates me too.”
“Oh, come on,” Stephanie said. “He wouldn’t have given you the job if he hated you.”
I filled her in on the elevator situation, and she practically busted a gut laughing at me.
“I was wondering why you were wearing a different shirt when you got home! So he saw your tits?”
“Steph, no! I was in my bra,” I explained, realizing that it didn’t make the situation any better.
“I bet you made his day,” she crowed. “Alone with his gorgeous half-dressed employee… He’s probably jacking off thinking about you right now!”
“Would you stop writing fanfic about my boss already?” I shouted at her, only half kidding. Secretly, a part of me liked the idea of me invading James’s brain. “He’s a dick too. They all are. But they won’t get the best of me. I’ll show them.”
“Yup, I know you will.” Stephanie flowed into pushup position and started knocking them out like she could do a hundred. “You always do.”
She was right, but I had a feeling that the big boss was going to make me work very hard to make it happen.