I set the new folder down and follow behind my brother as he leaves the room. He heads into a large bedroom, where I find three large suitcases stacked beside the bed. “What’s this?”
“I’m headed to Fiji, Mason. I’m tired and need a break. You’re handling everything here, so I’m off to the island for three weeks.”
“You’re leaving the country?” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest and blocking the exit.
“I am,” he says, grabbing the bags and pulling them to the doorway where I stand. “I’ll be in touch.”
My mouth drops open. I don’t know what I thought, but this wasn’t it. I guess I hadn’t really thought this far ahead as to where my brother would actually be in this equation. “What if I need you?”
“Email me.”
“This is bullshit.”
Matthew shrugs and advances. “This is what you agreed to do. You want to back out now? Good luck getting the money you need by the deadline.”
My shoulders slump in defeat as I step aside, allowing him to exit the room. I trail behind as he heads to the front door. When he pulls it open, George is standing there, holding my bag. “Good afternoon, sirs. Your bag, Mr. Mason,” he says, holding it out. The moment I grab it, George reaches for the luggage my brother is taking.
“George is taking me to the airport. His contact information is in the folder I gave you. He’ll be available to take you wherever you need to go,” Matthew states, stepping through the open door. “Take care, brother.”
“Yeah. You too,” I mumble, feeling a little shellshocked.
“George is the only one who knows you’re not me. Make sure you keep it that way as to not break the terms of the contract, Mase. I’d hate for you to do all this work and walk away with nothing.”
With that, my brother heads for the elevator, his driver hot on his heels, leaving me alone in his fancy freaking apartment.
I glance around the space, the white-and-black sterile environment, my mind trying to wrap around what the hell just happened. Actually, I do know what just happened. My brother played on my weaknesses to get what he wanted or needed. Just like he used to. Worse, I’m in no position to tell him to get fucked. The fact remains I need him, or at least his money, and if pretending to be him for a few weeks is going to get me that, I guess that’s what I need to do.
Sighing, I head back to his office to retrieve that folder of information. Overseeing the remodel shouldn’t be a problem. In fact, maybe I’ll add my own flare to the design and tell her to incorporate a steer head and a bear skin rug. Making sure the contract with the old man shouldn’t be a problem either, as long as the deal is as good as signed like Matthew said. And breaking up with his girlfriend? Not exactly my forte, but I’ll do it for two hundred thousand dollars. He didn’t give me a timeline for that part, so as long as it’s complete by the end of the twenty-one days, I’ll be in the clear.
Shouldn’t be too hard, right?
***
By the time I’ve read the contents of Matthew’s folder—twice—it’s nearing six o’clock. Annoyance and anxiety bubbles in my chest as I recall what I have to do. It’s not the actual break-up that has me upset, but the fact it’s my brother’s. He’s the one who should be calling things off with this woman, not me. Now here I am, meeting her for the first time over curry noodles and about to send her packing. Just my luck.
I just pray she’s not a clinger.
I fire off a large order to the little Thai place down the street. Not only did he leave me the takeout menu but also his credit card. Since I don’t know what Kyla likes, I decide to go big on the order and cover just about anything. Plus, I’ll have leftovers for a few days too. Even though Matthew left me his card doesn’t mean I should rack up the unnecessary charges.
Although I really should.
At five until six, the phone rings. I almost don’t answer it—habit back home, since it was always the bank calling—but recall seeing details about the front desk calling up for guests. “Hello?”
“Mr. Wilder, Miss Morgan is here. Shall I escort her up?”
“That would be great, thank you,” I reply before replacing the phone receiver. I read visitors and guests of tenants aren’t allowed to roam the building freely. They must be accompanied by a tenant or building personnel at all times. Seems like an odd rule, but this whole building is weird as hell. It’s just a bunch of rich assholes trying to see whose dick’s bigger.
I can’t help but wonder when I’ll break the news to the woman on her way up to the apartment. I mean, the polite thing to do is to at least feed her. Matthew did invite her up here for dinner. So as much as I’d rather just meet her at the door and give her the boot on behalf of my thoughtless brother, I won’t do it. She deserves more than what he’s giving her, so the least I can do is buy her some spicy noodles.
Funny, when I think back to the information my brother left me, there are pages and pages of details in regard to the building. Another page on the business deal I’m to help finalize, as well as computer printouts on the new design
