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)
“I believe you can handle everything.”
Xander lifts his gaze to mine, his chest rising, and I smile at him. Truly, I believe he has it in him to finish the race. I just…really, really don’t want him to win. That secret isn’t so secret. He knows I’m trying to beat him.
Doubt flickers across his face for a half-second. “You won’t say that after you remember the last three years.”
I frown deeply, not knowing what he’s referring to. From my vantage, he’s so much different than the Xander of three years ago, who would’ve rejected the very notion of public speaking. But he’s here right now. Ready to do this mock panel even if it gives him a truckload of anxiety.
Maybe he can’t see what I see.
“That’s super optimistic of you,” I tell him, “that you think I’ll remember the last three years.”
“You will,” he says strongly. “And the next time Kinney calls me glass half-empty, I expect you to vouch for me.”
I make the Vulcan salute. “On my honor.”
A half-smile quirks his lips. Then the front door swings open. All three Cobalts have arrived with their bodyguards in tow.
With one minute to spare.
45
LUNA HALE
The five of us are seated at a long table in front of the business-clad board, who occupy another table. A common Q&A setup except there are no microphones since Uncle Stokes and the board sit so close. They’re sipping on French onion soup out of bread bowls and crunching on salads.
I wonder if they’ve squeezed this in during a lunch break. Will that be one of us someday? Having so little time that we work on our breaks? Life being all-consumed by Fizzle? It’s a bleak outlook. One I don’t want for any of my cousins, but especially not my brother.
Uncle Stokes says, “This won’t take long. We know some of you have places to be.”
They all look to Ben.
I don’t have my cousin’s Google calendar, so I don’t know what pressing appointment he has. But the entire board seems to be in the know.
Xander lets out an irritated breath and leans into my shoulder. “It’s probably something stupid like hockey practice.”
So Xander doesn’t know either. It at least makes me feel better that I’m not the only one out of the loop. Our uncle types on his phone, then says, “Each of you have a set of questions to answer. You’re to pretend that you’re at a press conference and you’re here representing Fizzle.”
Nerves ambush me. The kind that tightens my stomach, and my index cards slip from my fingers. Shit shit. No one look at me! I scoot my chair back and lean down to pick them up. Eliot, sitting next to me, helps. People are definitely looking.
Mr. Wagner, as he introduced himself, with his salt-and-pepper hair and his I-wake-up-at-four-a.m.-just-to-hit-the-gym body beneath a tailored suit is intimidating enough. Now he has judgy eyes.
The silence is so loud.
After I’ve gathered the cards, I face them down on the table and scoot my chair back in. The legs make the brashest screech.
“Luna, you good?” Uncle Stokes asks.
My heart is about to make a prison break out of my chest, other than that—yeah.
Except, no.
My uncle is too worried about me. I might as well have Amnesia Girl written on my forehead. I’d rather be meeting six sets of judgy eyes than one pair of worried. Because how do I convince someone I’m healthy enough for this position?
“I’m good,” I manage to say. “Proceed.” Proceed?! I just told my uncle who is CEO of one of the richest companies in the world to proceed.
I’m tomato red.
Uncle Stokes doesn’t seem to care as he focuses on Charlie. Maybe my uncle’s ego is the size of a grain of salt. Despite Captain America being moral and just—he does have at least a walnut-size ego. Still, I think it’s sacrilege to consider my uncle as the Captain America like my dad does. In my life, that’s always been my older brother. Moffy even found his very own Bucky Barnes in Farrow.
The happy thought eases me.
I take a giant breath.
“Charlie,” Uncle Stokes begins. “Stand up, please.”
Charlie rolls his eyes—well, a partial eye roll. It seemed to stop midway. He stands from the table.
“Out in front,” Mr. Wagner requests.
“Right,” Charlie says dryly. He rounds the table so the board can get a good look at him. “Appraise the cattle.”
Xander nearly chokes on a sip of Lightning Bolt!
Eliot is grinning beside me and says under his breath, “Dig that grave, brother.”
Ben seems to be chatting quietly with Krisha Kapoor at either end of their respective tables. As if he knows her already, but that’d be strange. It’s more likely they just met.
“The commentary is unnecessary,” Mr. Wagner reprimands.
Charlie bites his tongue and forces a smile.
The board scribble on the notepads and type on tablets. Charlie’s golden-brown hair is askew like he’d been tugging at the strands, and his wrinkled white button-down is half untucked from his black slacks. His loafers are shiny, and I wonder if they’re jotting these meticulous notes or if they’re just writing, bedraggled, not CEO worthy.