Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
“Not talking about it won’t fix it either,” Maddox counters. “They should be called on their bullshit.”
“You sound like my brother, Chance,” she says, a smile trying to tilt the corners of her lips up. That always happens when she talks about her family.
“He’s the podcast one, right?” I ask, checking my mental notes. “With a fraternity sorta thing he leads?”
Kayla looks at me fully, her smile growing. “Yeah, that’s him. He fights the red pill boys’ club mentality bullshit on the front lines, with the young men coming up into adulthood. Unfortunately, that means I’m mostly left fighting the ones who’re too set in their ways to learn new tricks. Usually, I can use it against them, beat them at their own game when they underestimate me. But it’s still tiresome.” She lifts her glass. “But did I get the deal done? Fuck yes, and that’s what matters.” She takes a sip, then admits, “Well, almost done. But it was a productive meeting, even if Brent is a slimy, chauvinistic asshole.”
“I don’t even know who that is, but please tell me you called him that to his face,” Maddox begs, his eyes dancing.
Hiding a smile behind her glass, she purrs, “Pretty much.”
I’m still stuck on Brent’s name coming out of her mouth in that sneering, angry way. She’s celebrating a deal, or a potential deal, but whatever this guy said or did today hurt her. Somewhere beneath the tough surface she fastidiously maintains, deep down in the tender places she hides protectively, it got to her. I suspect there are a number of Brents in her past, all leaving tiny, irritating marks on her heart. What’s that saying? Death by a thousand paper cuts, or something like that? That’s what this is, what her anger is. Pain. I know that emotion and that mask too well myself.
“How’d you end up as such a bigshot at Blue Lake?” I ask. Her eyes jerk to mine, instantly looking for an insult she won’t find because I’m not doubting her place there. No, what I’m hoping for is that in telling us, it’ll remind her how amazing she is and help soothe that secret hurt from today much better than us just hyping her up and putting Brent in the pine box he deserves to be in.
She sets her glass on the edge of the hot tub decking and moves her arms through the bubbly water. “God, when wasn’t I at Blue Lake? Even as a kid, I wanted to go with Dad to the office, or sit with him while he worked at home. I’d pretend to do homework but would really listen to his phone calls, and when he’d step out for a minute, I’d sit in his chair, imagining I was the boss while I’d look at the spreadsheets and contracts on his desk, not understanding them in the slightest. By high school, I was taking every class I could about business and economics, but also psychology and corporate sociology. Success isn’t solely about numbers. It’s about people—reading them, figuring out what they want, and delivering that in a way that’s beneficial for you too.”
The way she says that makes it sound like she’s quoting someone. Her father, maybe? Or a professor?
“Of course, I went to college and internships, especially the one at Blue Lake after graduation, which was tough. It is for everyone—that’s why it’s so sought after—but Dad explicitly directed everyone not to take it easy on me because of who I was. They mostly took that to mean I was fair game, so that was a rough year, to put it lightly, but I survived. More importantly, I learned. I worked my way up, studying every move Dad, Cameron, and my other mentors made, cataloguing and analyzing them. It’s been a fast trajectory up the corporate ladder, and plenty of people think it's only because of my last name, but I wasn’t handed a damn thing. Dad doesn’t work like that, and he sure doesn’t express love that way. I’ve had to earn every deal I’ve closed, work for every title, and deserve every bit of responsibility.” She shrugs like she hasn’t just listed out a lifetime’s worth of successes already.
“Damn, that is so hot.” Maddox’s growl is teasing, but he’s serious, looking at Kayla like she’s sexy as fuck, even though only her bare shoulders are exposed. She laughs lightly like she thinks he’s kidding.
“He’s right, you know?” I say sincerely. “You knew what you wanted, fought hard to achieve it, and keep putting in the work every day. That’s beautiful.”
“I believe I said hot,” Maddox corrects, holding a finger up.
Not letting him waylay me, I continue, “And assholes like Brent don’t get to take that away from you because they’re too blind to see beneath your pretty exterior to the truly good stuff, and they’re probably too lazy to put in that much work themselves, just depending on their penis and wallet to get ahead because it’s all they have to offer.”