Raine (Gods of the Fifth Floor #2) - M.V. Ellis Page 0,13
fill me in on what the actual fuck is going on. Stop treating me like a kid, and spill.”
“We treat you like a kid, because you act like one. A sexed-up high-school kid, to be exact. All hormones and no sense of responsibility, and like Beck said, that’s what’s got us into this mess.” Nate squeezed at his neck and winced as he spoke.
“For the last time, before I lose my ever-loving mind, what the fuck has happened?”
“Sit.” Nate looked at me with the steely determination in his eyes that meant he wasn’t going to budge. I took my hands from my pockets, oh-so-slowly, and folded them across my chest.
“I said sit the fuck down, or nobody’s telling you anything. If you can’t join us and act like an equal member of this team, we won’t treat you like one.”
“You already don’t.”
“Ever considered that maybe that’s because you don’t behave like one?” It was rare for Dillon to weigh in on a disagreement between any of us. “Please sit down, Raine. All of this is just wasting time. Time, might I add, that we really can’t afford to lose. Please.” It was almost impossible to remain doggedly fixed on a fight in the face of somebody who looked like a member of the British aristocracy, and sounded like Henry-fucking-Cavill.
I sat down.
Nate looked like someone had taken a shit in his Vanquish. “So, d’you remember Breanna and Charli Morgan?”
“The twins? Of course, I fucking remember them. I haven’t damaged that many brain cells to forget a dynamic duo like that.”
The twins in question were a young and extremely talented creative team who’d joined the agency—and become the talk of the creative department and beyond—about eighteen months previously. As the daughters of a senior industry “suit,” who’d been around for years, they were basically ad-land royalty.
They were also crazily talented—one with words, the other with pictures—and hotter than the devil’s drawers. Not only that—as I was to find out later—they were kinky freaks, who liked a little three-in-the-bed action. Actually, “liked” was an understatement. It’s fair to say that they loved it.
I knew this from personal experience, as the three of us had had a little something-something going on for a few months while they worked for me. I was pretty sure that the guys had never really forgiven me for that one. They were constantly berating me and telling me not to shit where I ate, and getting it on with the twins was the epitome of that.
Apart from screwing my PA, which was no longer a possibility as I was contractually bound to hire dudes, it didn’t get more incestuous than screwing people who worked for and reported directly to me. Who also happened to be sisters. And not just sisters, but identical twins.
If I was someone who cared more about conforming, I would almost be able to understand what a shit show everyone else considered the situation to be. Not the least of people being my partners.
Man, the day that all went down—no pun intended—was one of the most epic fights in the history of our friendship, and business partnership. We’d made it through Yale as oversexed youngbloods without threatening to end each other the way we had when my little “arrangement” with the twins had come to light.
I smirked to myself at the recollection. With hindsight, how much the whole thing had set the cat among the pigeons had been kind of funny.
“What the fuck are you smiling at? You haven’t even heard what the problem is yet.”
“Nothing. Just reliving fond memories of those two, that’s all.”
“Well, I doubt that either of them is doing the same. Apparently, the whole thing almost tore them apart, and though they’re over that now, it’s clear they’re not totally over the whole mess.”
“What makes you say that?”
Nate handed me his phone. There was a video already open. “Press play.” I did as I was told, then watched silent and open-mouthed for ninety seconds while the extended ad played.
“Holy fuck. It’s a total rip-off.”
“Yes, except they’ve made it to market first, so if we release ours now, we’ll look like the ones who ripped them off. Not only that, but the client will fire us for sure.”
I was so angry, I could barely think straight, let alone form a coherent sentence.
“Those fucking little...”
“Yeah. There’s not a curse word you can say right now that the three of us haven’t already covered, and then some, believe me.” I believed him.