A Not So Meet Cute
: Chapter 10

Before I could lay eyes on Huxley this morning, I slipped out of the house, fully dressed in some silky dress that’s far too flattering. The material feels like a cloud gently wrapped around me. Damn these expensive clothes.

I wanted nothing to do with him, nor did I want him asking me questions.

Yesterday was dreadful. After breakfast, I slipped up to my room, where I wrote down all of my ideas for Kelsey’s business and how to improve it. Lunch and dinner were spent sitting in silence next to Huxley until I was able to slip away again. I haven’t seen him since dinner last night, and I prefer it that way.

When I went to get into my car to drive over to Kelsey’s this morning, I realized—guess who doesn’t have a car here? So, I walked down the block and ordered an Uber to get me to West Hollywood.

Now, with our favorite coffee in hand, I walk up to Kelsey’s apartment, excited to see her and give her all the gory details. I knock on the door and wait. It’s early, but hopefully she’s up and ready for the day.

The door opens and—

“What the actual fuck are you doing here?” I ask Huxley, who stands on the other side of the door.

In a sarcastic tone, he says, “You didn’t give me a kiss goodbye.”

Pushing past him, I say, “Crawl up your own scrotum and drown.” I replace Kelsey in the kitchen, eating a bagel with a huge smile on her face. “Why did you let him into your apartment?”

“I thought there was something wrong, like something happened to you. Then he told me you didn’t say bye to him and I felt bad.”

I spin around to glare at Huxley. He’s dressed for the day in a deep blue suit, white button-up shirt, and a slate colored tie. Not one hair is out of place on his head, and he has just enough scruff to make him look positively intimidating.

“How on earth are you ready and dressed?”

“If you shared a room with me, you’d know I wake up at four to start my day.”

“God, you’re mental.” I hand Kelsey her coffee and say, “I shouldn’t even give this to you, since you seem to enjoy my slow torture.”

“He’s actually a pretty nice guy,” Kelsey says.

“To whom? To you? Of course he is, because he doesn’t see you as his puppet. Believe me, if you were in the trenches like me, you’d think differently.”

Kelsey fingers the sleeve of my dress. “You consider designer clothes being in the trenches?”

Pompously, Huxley sticks his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels, a grin on his stupidly handsome face.

“I’d rather be naked than have to deal with him.”

“We can arrange that,” Huxley says, causing my sister to chuckle.

“Hey,” I snap at her, “whose side are you on?”

“Yours, of course. Always on your side, sis. But this is far too entertaining.”

Groaning, I turn back to Huxley and say, “I have no idea why you’re here, but I need you to leave so I can talk about you behind your back with my sister.”

From his pants pocket, he pulls out a black card and holds it in front of me.

“What’s that?”

“The key to your car.”

“That’s not a key, that’s a credit card.”

He shakes his head. “It unlocks your car and you need it to drive the car so yeah, it’s a key. It’s the white Model 3 in the front parking spot of this building. I expect you to drive it. The PIN number you’ll also need to drive it is written down inside the envelope on the table.” When I don’t take the card from him, he steps up to me and slips it right into my cleavage. “Have a great day . . . sweetheart.”

And then he leaves.

I stare at the closed door, card still stuck in my cleavage.

When I turn around, mouth agape, Kelsey chuckles and says, “Oh, this is so much fun for me.”

“Why are you a bad sister?”

She laughs and sets her mug down on the counter. “I’m not a bad sister, I’m just taking joy in something new that’s happening in your life.”

I point to the door through which Huxley just retreated. “There’s nothing joyous about that man.”

“I don’t know.” She smirks. “He does seem to have some good qualities.”

I fold my arms. “Really? Good looks buy your loyalty?” I point to my chest. “I’m your sister. Your loyalty belongs to me.”

“Oh, settle down,” she says as she plucks the keycard from my cleavage and guides me to one of the chairs at her bistro table. “You know I’m on your side, but I will say, you should probably give him a chance. Not be so . . . irritable around him. He’s helping you out.”

“I’m helping him out.”

“You are both in this together. But look at what he’s doing for you. Gave you a new car to drive rather than that hunk of junk Bug that barely gets around; you have all new clothes, which helps us, because, not to be mean, but now you look put together, which bodes well for business meetings; and he gave you a place to stay so you don’t have to live here with me, or worse, with Mom and Jeff. He also paid off your student loans, so you don’t have to worry about getting a job to pay those back, and can work with me instead. He’s done a lot, Lottie. And you went to dinner with him, to help him with some deal he’s trying to score. I’m not taking sides, but he seems to be doing a lot for you.”

“Well . . . when you put it like that, sure, he looks like a saint, but he’s anything but that. Trust me. He’s a pompous asshole. He’s rude and degrading, at times. He doesn’t treat me with respect.”

“Do you offer him respect or are you always fighting him? Knowing you, it’s probably the latter.”

My sister knows me far too well.

“He started it,” I say. “He came in ripe with the attitude. What was I supposed to do? Just sit back and take it? Hell no. He makes my life difficult? I’ll do the same.”

“So glad you didn’t lose your maturity in the move,” Kelsey says with sarcasm. “And even though this topic of Huxley Cane is entertaining, we have some work to do.” She brings her computer over to the table and hands it to me.

“What do you want me to do with this?”

“We need to start getting organized with the business, and oddly enough, that’s the part of this job I suck at. We have a meeting later today with a potentially huge client, and I want to make sure we have everything under control, so if they ask questions, we can give them exact numbers.”

“Exact numbers of . . .”

“You know, like inventory and financials. Things like that.”

I eye her suspiciously. “Why would they care about that?”

She rolls her eyes. “Rich people want to know how successful you are. I need you to make me look successful on paper.”

“Okay . . . what are you going to do?”

She pulls out her iPad and smiles. “Design, of course.”

“Of course.” Sighing, I open her computer. All the files we need on her computer are at the bottom, ready to be opened. “Am I going to hate you after this?”

“Possibly. But this is what you enjoy.”

“Oddly, it is.” I crack my fingers. “Let’s get to work, sis.”

“HOW DO you turn off the car?” I ask, looking for an off button of some sort.

“I don’t think you turn it off,” Kelsey says, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“What do you mean, you don’t turn it off? There has to be an off button somewhere.”

She shakes her head. “I went out with a guy with the exact same car, and he just put it in park, got out, locked up and walked away. The car knows when you’re not in it anymore.” She gets out, and I grumble to myself as I put the car in park and get out myself.

Out of all the cars Huxley could have given me, he gave me one with a mind of its own. I press the keycard to the side of the window and watch as the side mirrors curl in toward the car.

“Is it locked?” I ask.

“I believe so.” Kelsey checks her watch. “Come on, we’re going to be late if we fiddle around with this thing anymore.”

Shoving the keycard in my purse—keycard for a car, strange, by the way—I catch up to Kelsey, who’s already halfway to the building.

“Who are we meeting with, by the way? You never gave me any information. All I know is that your bookkeeping is in dire need of help and I’ve been able to pull together some rough numbers.”

She doesn’t answer, instead, pushes through the large glass doors and into a modern, sleek lobby. There isn’t a person in sight other than a receptionist at the front desk.

No signs.

No personalization.

Nothing to indicate where the hell we are.

“Miss Kelsey, Miss Lottie, glad you could make it,” the receptionist says. “Please, take the third elevator to the tenth floor. They’re waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” Kelsey says, powerwalking to the elevator.

I rush to catch up with her and barely make it into the elevator as the doors close behind me. “Jesus, hurry much?”

“We can’t be late. It looks bad.”

I lift her wrist to look at her watch. “We have two minutes to spare. Calm down.”

She looks me in the eyes. “This is important, Lottie. This could be a big break for us, okay? Please understand the magnitude of this.”

Seeing the desperation in my little sister’s eyes, I say, “Hey, I know this is important. I’d never do anything to mess with that. I’m just trying to calm you down. Going in there looking frenzied isn’t going to help the cause either.”

She takes a deep breath. “You’re right. This is like any other pitch I’ve made.”

“Exactly. We have everything we need, and I’m here by your side to help.”

“Thank you.” She squeezes my hand, the elevator dings, the doors part, and there, standing in front of a conference room, are three, tall, broad, and intimidating men.

But one of them is unmistakable.

“What the actual hell,” I mutter as my eyes land on Huxley.

“Decorum,” Kelsey whispers as she pulls me off the elevator with her.

“Kelsey, Lottie, so glad you could make it,” Huxley says with a grin. He gestures to the conference room behind him. “We’ll be in here.”

Kelsey starts for the conference room, but I grab her hand and hold my finger up to Huxley. With a smile that pains me, I say, “Please give us one moment. We’ll be right in.”

He nods, and the three men walk into the conference room, allowing the door to shut behind them.

I turn my back to them and, with eyes that scream death, say, “What the fuck, Kelsey? Why is Huxley here?”

With a grin spread across her face, making sure the guys see that nothing is wrong, she says, “That’s why he came by this morning—well, one of the reasons—to set up a meeting with us and to give you the car, obviously.”

“A meeting for what?”

“For the office.” Her smile grows even more. “He wants to possibly hire me to organize and make the office more sustainable. This could be a huge account, Lottie. If done right and efficiently, this could put us on the map.”

The excitement in her eyes, the hope blooming inside her, sets me into a tailspin. Because this doesn’t feel right, it almost feels too good to be true, and as the older sister, I want to protect her from harm. But how can I express my concerns without looking as though I’m trying to pee on her parade?

I don’t trust Huxley.

I don’t trust his intentions.

I’ve seen the extent he’ll go to in order to deceive someone into making a deal. Who’s to say he wouldn’t do that to my sister?

But her begging, pleading eyes are cutting through my strong will. She wants this, this chance to grow, and hell, I can’t take that away from her, no matter my level of unease.

Pushing my hesitation to the side, I say, “Okay, but let’s proceed with caution. We don’t know what this could lead to, and we also need to remember that Huxley is a shrewd businessman.”

She smirks. “Trust isn’t built in a day; I get it.” She takes my hand in hers. “Let’s go in there and blow their dicks off.”

I chuckle. “Not literally . . . right?”

Her eyes widen. “Right, no blowing actual dicks.”

Together, we walk into the conference room and stand at the end of the table, opposite the three extremely handsome men. Even though they all are extremely attractive—which isn’t intimidating at all—my eyes land on Huxley, sitting in the middle with his folded hands resting on the table.

“Mr. Cane, we’re so honored you had time to meet with us today,” Kelsey says, and I hold back a sneer at her use of Mr. Cane. Ugh, gross. Am I going to have to call him that?

And these two guys, do they know who I am? Am I supposed to walk up to Huxley and give him a kiss?

Oh shit, wait . . . was I?

Was this part of a test?

When I glance at Huxley, he’s staring me down, his eyes fixated on the ring on my finger, which I keep twirling with my thumb out of pure nerves.

Is he trying to tell me something? Is that a hint? I did brush him off right when we got here, asked for space. What if he’d intended to give me a hug? Should I assume these men know we’re engaged? Or is this a business setting? His house staff were aware of our engagement.

Jesus Christ, a heads-up would’ve been wonderful.

On both ends. From my sister and from Huxley.

Sweat forms at the base of my neck, heating up my ears as I take a step forward. I watch Huxley intently as I take another step forward, looking more like an unoiled robot than a confident fiancée. I just don’t know the protocol.

WHAT IS THE DAMN PROTOCOL?

“Lottie, are you okay?” Kelsey asks.

Another step, closing the distance, slowly, awkwardly, but closing it.

“Oh, yeah, just wonderful. Want to, uh, make sure I say hello. You know . . .” I gulp, “to my, uh, to my counterpart.” I point at Huxley and take another step forward. “The man I can’t stop thinking about.” Another step, until I’m right at his chair, the other two men looking up at me awkwardly. I pat Huxley on the shoulder, my gestures erratic. Not a smooth bone in my body. “Hello, dear honey . . . bottoms.” I smile. “You’re looking ravishing.” With every eye in the room watching me, I lean down, growing closer and closer until my lips meet the top of his head. Instantly I’m met by the smell of his delicious cologne and the masculine scent of his hair products. “Oh, that smells nice.” I pat his head. “Not musky at all. Just . . . you know, like a man should smell. All mountainy and rich. You smell very rich.” Awkwardly I finish kissing the top of his head, and then I move away and give him a thumbs up. “Love getting to sneak in some affection during the day . . . fiancé.” I wink and take another step back as a droplet of sweat rolls down my back.

That was not smooth at all.

“For the love of God, tell me that’s not how she acted in front of Dave,” the guy to the right says.

Huxley leans back in his chair and props up his chin on his hand as he slouches. “I have no idea what the fuck that was, but it wasn’t what she did Saturday.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, looking between the men.

“Uh, Lottie, maybe you come on back over here.” Kelsey waves her arm. “So, you know, we can be professionals and start the presentation.”

“Hold on,” I say, holding up my hand to my sister as I turn to face Huxley.

His navy-blue suit makes him look even more sinister when he’s sitting in that pitch-black conference table chair. And his pose—casual yet firm, his eyes fixated on me—unwavering. He’s a force to be reckoned with, and I have no problem standing up to the man.

I motion to the two other men. “Do they know?”

“What exactly are you referencing?” Huxley asks with such smugness in his voice that I’m tempted to reach out and kick him in the shin.

“Our engagement of course, sweet cheeks,” I answer in a nauseating tone. “Are they aware you’ve made me the happiest woman on earth?” I clasp my hands together and hold them in front of me.

Kelsey clears her throat. “Lottie. Come over here.”

“You don’t seem particularly happy, especially when you came off the elevator.” Huxley’s index finger travels up the side of his face to his temple, while his thumb positions itself just under his jaw. It feels like a power pose, as if he’s attempting to command the room in a casual manner . . . yet command me. And I’ll be damned if he thinks he can command me.

Hands on my hips, I ask, “Now why would you say that? I was shocked to see you, is all. I wasn’t expecting to run into such a hunk of meat in the middle of the afternoon.”

“Lottie,” Kelsey whispers, giving me the come here motion, but I ignore her.

The two men next to Huxley are far too amused as they sit deep in their seats and take in the show.

“I see.” Huxley’s eyes stay trained on me. “And were you particularly happy to see your fiancé?”

What is he doing?

What game is he playing?

This doesn’t seem very professional of him.

It’s almost as if he’s taunting me, testing me.

Guess what, buddy? Two can play at this game.

I wet my lips. “Very . . . excited.” I lace my answer with innuendo and slowly move my eyes down his chest to his crotch and then back up.

There.

See what he does with that.

“Will you excuse my sister, she’s—”

“Kelsey, it’s okay, the cat is out of the bag,” I say to shush her. “We’re engaged. I know it may come as a shock to some, but”—I walk over to him and take his hand in mine—“we’re in love.”

I glance over at one of the men and he’s snickering behind his hand. That’s fucking rude.

I look over at the other guy, and his smile stretches from ear to ear, but it’s not a joyous smile, it’s more of an amused smile. What the hell is going on here?

“Sorry,” I say after a pause. “I was sort of expecting a round of applause or something, you know, for our love.” All eyes on me still—Huxley isn’t helping in the slightest—I lower myself until I’m sitting on Huxley’s lap. His hand falls to my side and I wrap my arm around his neck. “So much love,” I say, getting a good whiff of his lavish cologne. I hate that it smells so good.

Hand on my hip, Huxley keeps his eyes on me as he asks the others, “Will you give us the room, please?”

Uhh . . . say what now?

I glance over at Kelsey, who looks more than irritated, but she gathers her things and leaves the room, followed by the two men.

Once the door is shut, Huxley asks, “What the hell was that?” I go to move off him, but he keeps me close, his hand now gripping my ass and keeping me tight against his body.

“That was me trying to figure out what the hell this is.” I motion to the conference room. “You couldn’t have told me you were meeting with me and my sister today?”

“Why would I tell you when your sister clearly could have?”

“Uh, I don’t know, you could’ve given me a heads-up about who might be in the meeting. Am I supposed to play doting fiancée, or irritated shrew?”

“As much as I enjoy irritated shrew . . . you call the spectacle you just laid out doting fiancée? That was awkward woman unsure of what to do.”

“Because you put me in that position. I had no idea how to act. I don’t know who knows about us and who doesn’t. When I should turn it on and when I shouldn’t.”

“You should always be turned on around me.”

My eyes level with him. “Not that kind of turned on. God, you pervert.”

“I wasn’t talking about that kind of turned on . . .”

“Yeah, okay, surrrre,” I answer maturely. “Either way, I had no idea how to react, awkwardness got the best of me, and that’s the version of myself you received. If I’m prepared, I know how to act, but walking off an elevator, only to see you standing there when I’m not expecting it, threw me off my game.”

He slowly nods. “Did I intimidate you?”

“No,” I answer quickly as his hand reaches up and pushes my hair behind my ear. “What are you doing?” I ask in a panic as a wave of chills stumble down my arm from the graze of his finger over my cheek.

“Everyone can see us,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “And since we’re in my office, wouldn’t you think everyone would need to see us together, see us interact, because the main point of this entire farce is so that I can score a deal?”

“Huh,” I say, thinking about it. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“One thing you need to get straight, Lottie—I always make sense.”

My eyes connect with his. “You’re so narcissistic.”

“Confident,” he replies.

“A cockhole.”

His brows raise. “What the hell is a cockhole?”

“Cocky asshole. Therefore, you’re a cockhole.”

His hand smooths down my ass and back up. I need to hate how that feels, but for some abhorrent reason, I don’t. I don’t mind the feel of his large palm skimming over my backside.

Jesus, Lord help me, there’s something wrong with me.

“So, because I know what I want, how I want it, and when I want it, that makes me a cockhole?” His eyes shift to my mouth and then back up.

Tension builds in the hollow of my chest, a tingling, heavy, throbbing sensation. One I’ve never experienced before.

“No.” I swallow, and for some reason, I look at his mouth for a second, as well. He has great lips. Not too full for a man, but just enough that I know if he ever had to place his mouth on mine, it wouldn’t be a bad kiss. Just from the way he speaks, with such command, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’d be a good kisser. “Not that it matters, because it doesn’t. You’re a cockhole because you don’t treat people with kindness.”

“I see.” His stare is unwavering. “So, let me get this straight, I don’t treat people with kindness. So, what would you say making sure you have a solid mode of transportation is? Or what about the flowers I sent to your mom and Jeff, congratulating them on an empty house?”

He sent them flowers? Mom didn’t say anything.

“Or how about the lengths I went to in my house to ensure you’d be comfortable?”

What lengths?

“Or the meeting I took with your sister today, completely rearranging my schedule so she could pitch to us? What would you call that?”

Uhhh . . .

I’m about to answer, when the conference room door opens. Huxley looks over my shoulder as a female voice says, “I’m so sorry to disturb you, Mr. Cane, but Bower is on line one.”

He nods and says, “Thank you, Karla. I’ll be right there.”

The door swishes shut and Huxley lets go of me, helping me settle on the ground before he stands from his chair and buttons his suit jacket.

Eyes boring into me, he says, “I’ll see you at home.”

He starts to walk away, and I ask, “Wait, what about the meeting?”

“Looks as though you’ve used up my time.”

“What?” I chase after him and move in front of his large body. I can feel eyes on us, eyes from around the company, so I make sure to keep my frustration at bay as I slide my hand up the lapel of his suit jacket. “Huxley, my sister has been preparing for this meeting all day. She’s going to be devastated if she can’t pitch to you.”

“Something you should’ve thought of.”

He goes to move again, but I stop him. “Please, Huxley.”

His eyes meet mine, and for a brief moment, I see a hint of human inside them. This man really does have a soul. It’s right there, behind the dark chocolate of his hollow eyes.

“I’ll see you at home,” he repeats and moves to the side. “And by the way, if you’re going to help your sister succeed, you should always do your research on every client you go to meet.”

“What do you mean by that?” I ask.

“The men sitting with me. They’re my brothers, not associates. And they know everything going on in my life.”

My eyes narrow, and I try to keep it together as I ask, “So I didn’t have to put on an act at all?”

“No, you didn’t. They know exactly who you are and what you’re doing for me, but you’d have known that if you were truly prepared. Perhaps I’ll take another meeting with your sister when you show that you can actually conduct yourself professionally in a business setting.”

Anger shoots to the top of my head as I feel my cheeks darken with embarrassment. “I hate you,” I say with such venom that I can taste my hatred for him on the tip of my tongue.

“I’m well aware of your feelings for me. No need to constantly repeat them.” And with that, he heads out of the conference room, past Kelsey without a second glance, and into the depths of his office. I glance at Kelsey, who stands there alone, her laptop and portfolio in hand, looking absolutely defeated.

And that’s when it hits me hard. I fucked this up for her.

I fucked up really badly.

KELSEY REACHES to leave the car, but I grab her arm and stop her. “Please, Kelsey. Please just talk to me.”

She lowers her head and shakes it from side to side. “I don’t even know what to say to you at this moment. I’m so upset, I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

“I’m sorry, Kelsey. I really am.”

She looks over her shoulder, and I can see the disappointment in her eyes. It cuts through me like razor-sharp glass.

“I understand you’re in a weird position right now. You were fired by someone you thought you trusted, thrust into this odd deal with a very domineering man, a man you don’t particularly get along with, and you’re trying to replace your way through this mess. But that doesn’t give you the right to be a martyr.”

“A martyr?” I ask in surprise. “I’m not a martyr.”

“No?” she asks as she turns in her seat to face me. “Because from where I sit, you’re looking pretty cushy at the moment. Not many people are granted the opportunity you’ve been given. Not only are you living in some mansion with an extremely hot man, but you had your college loans paid for, you don’t need to worry about any expenses, and you were granted a chance to live with a businessman who’s a wealth of knowledge. You realize he’s worth billions, Lottie? BILLIONS. He’s built his business from the ground up with his brothers, and instead of capitalizing on that, on his experience, on his expertise in what you spent four years studying in college, you’re inciting him to anger. And you’re hurting the people you love while doing it.”

“It’s not that easy,” I say.

“It’s not easy to lower your guard, see this incredible opportunity at your feet, and be grateful?” she asks. “Because if I were in your position, that’s exactly what I would be.”

“You say that, but you don’t know until you’re in my shoes.”

She nods. “You’re right, I would have no idea what you’re experiencing, but what I do know is that we had a big meeting today, and instead of pushing your ego to the side, it spiked, and you let it take an opportunity from us. When I say this could’ve been big, I meant it, Lottie. Not only is Cane Enterprises worth billions, but they own businesses and real estate all over Los Angeles, and in other states, as well. Meaning, if I were to land an opportunity and they liked what we did, they could have used us not just for their office, but for every property they own. But you didn’t think about that when you were trying to put on some show in the conference room, did you?”

“I had no idea how to act,” I shoot back. “He’s in my head. I don’t know how to approach him, how to . . . treat him.”

“Try with a little respect,” Kelsey says while opening her door.

“He was the one who provoked me in that room,” I say, still on the defensive.

“Because you let him. He seemed perfectly fine from where I stood. You were the one who looked like the fool.” And with that, she slams the car door and walks toward her apartment building.

I roll down the window and say, “You forgot your laptop.”

“Keep it. The least you can do is fix the website.”

Then she walks into her apartment building.

Anger, frustration, and embarrassment clash within me at the same time, hitting me square in my chest, only to travel up my neck, heat up my cheeks, and ultimately bring a wave of tears to my eyes.

“Fuck,” I quietly say as a tear cascades down my cheek. What Huxley and Kelsey both said was 100% correct. Be prepared for every meeting. Know who you’re meeting with. Know your own presentation inside and out. Go in with confidence, ready to answer every possible question. These are basic meeting requirements, and I didn’t follow any one of them. I made a mockery of years of studies. Why? And of all people to show such lack of professionalism and preparation, it had to be the owners of Cane Enterprises. Fuck.

And Kelsey’s business.

Kelsey and I have had our fair share of fights, but for some reason, this one doesn’t feel as though it can be fixed with a Double-Double and chocolate milkshake from In-n-Out. This feels deeper.

This feels damaging.

And that frightens me more than anything.