Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
“Don’t listen to my brother,” Eliot says without breaking his gaze from the board. “He doesn’t know what I’d be willing to do.”
“Why do you think he’s lying?” Mr. Wagner asks.
Eliot stiffens, only slightly, beside me.
Charlie gestures a hand to him. “He’s a fucking actor.”
“Language, Charlie,” Uncle Stokes says.
“I’m being honest,” Eliot tells the board, but I have my doubts. Because he is very convincing, and I could also see him agreeing to all stipulations just to take the crown from Charlie.
“Let’s move on, if you’re ready,” Mr. Meléndez asks Uncle Stokes, who nods.
“Luna.” My uncle zaps me to attention, and he motions me to round the table like Charlie and Eliot had done.
Okay, I’ve got this.
With a deep breath, I take a quick glance at Donnelly. He’s grinning while leisurely perched against the entrance beside Frog and Quinn, and he gives me an a-okay kinda hand gesture. Then he sticks his finger in the hole and winks at me, and my smile mushrooms at the dirty signal.
I calm, not so anxious anymore, and I present myself fully to the board.
“Hi.” I wave in a rainbow pattern. This is me. I sense the ladies noting my hair. It’s a half-up hairdo. Glittery purple and pink ribbon are tied around two buns.
The men seem more concentrated on the Weirdo lettering on my sweater.
“Take that off, please,” Mr. Wagner requests.
“My sweater?”
“Yes.”
I hesitate. “Um…” Alarm bells go off.
I’m not wearing a bra!
It’s silk. It’s low-cut and revealing. Do I just do it? Do I avoid or will that dock more points off my name? Maybe if I was more versed in competing for things, I wouldn’t be as indecisive.
I panic and glance at Donnelly.
His lips have lowered into a concerned frown. His eyes dart back to the board, as if they’re exposing themselves as enemy droids.
“Is it important?” I ask Mr. Wagner. “It’s kinda cold.”
“Do you think the role of CEO is important?” Mr. Wagner shoots back.
Okaaaay… “Yes.”
“Then yes.”
Uncle Stokes gives him a half-warning look, but it’s feeble. My dad’s would be lethal.
I grip the bottom of my sweater but stop myself. “This is more appropriate than what’s beneath.”
“The sweater,” he snaps.
“She’s trying to tell you no while being polite about it,” Ben cuts in, and my head swings backward, surprised that he was the first to say something. He’s visibly pissed. “What’s worse is you know that, and you don’t even care.”
Mr. Wagner glares.
“What’s the point of taking her sweater?” Eliot asks Mr. Wagner too. “You didn’t ask for my suit jacket.”
“He must be a perv,” Charlie says with the cock of his head.
Mr. Wagner glowers. “Excuse me?”
“Charlie,” Uncle Stokes chastises. “Chett Wagner has been a prominent board member before you were born. He was a close confidant to your grandfather, and he’s been your number one advocate for this position. You’ll show him some respect.”
“What reason would he have to see under her sweater?” Charlie retorts with less fire than Ben and Eliot. “Give me one.”
I hear one of them mutter “nepo brat” under their breath. It might’ve been Gunther.
Xander is swinging his head back and forth like this is a tennis match, and he’s losing sight of the ball. Whereas my boyfriend is taking these deep controlled breaths like he’s forcing himself not to rush out to me. When we lock eyes, Donnelly shakes his head at me like don’t.
Don’t take off my sweater.
He can see the mere thought is making me uncomfortable.
I won’t do it.
I keep my arms at my side.
Mr. Wagner swallows a hot gulp of water from his glass, then with fiery narrowed eyes, he addresses Charlie, not me. “We’re at a mock press conference. A publicist would ask Luna to take off her sweater before she confronted a single camera. She can’t wear anything with that word on it.”
Weirdo?
“Being a weirdo isn’t a bad thing,” I end up saying.
Ms. Kapoor smiles, and yes, it’s a pity smile, but at least I’m winning someone over.
“Mock press conference,” Charlie emphasizes. “It’s pretend. Don’t tell me in a real scenario someone wouldn’t have a jacket on hand for her. And in that real scenario, you wouldn’t see under her sweater.”
“You’ve made your point,” Mr. Wagner glares.
To shut down this topic, I jump in, “I’m keeping my sweater on, thank you.”
Scribbles and typing.
I’m told to sit, and when I return to my seat, Xander leans a shoulder into me. “You okay?”
“Uh-huh,” I whisper and give him a thumbs-up.
He tries to breathe.
“Luna.” My uncle’s voice jolts me again. “Your fiction has caused a stir in the media.” So we’re going there. I’d been preparing like this was speed-dating with the board members, not a damage control Q&A. “As CEO of Fizzle, you won’t be able to write publicly anymore. Will this be a problem?”
Yes.
“No.” The word bursts from my mouth.
The room is quiet, and I avoid staring directly at the board this time. I don’t want to overanalyze their reactions.