Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
When we come together, the five of us can perform small miracles. But our relationship is like a house of cards, built on a shaky foundation that’s always two seconds from collapsing.
“Sorry, we’re late,” Richard announces as he enters the room with Stefan in tow. “We had to go over a few last-minute details for Ashborn.”
My dad raises his arm to look at the platinum Cartier watch on his wrist and rolls his eyes. All of the King men are coders. Richard, much like Stefan, usually gets lost in his work and disregards social norms—like showing up on time. My dad is the polar opposite. Somehow, the two opposites balance each other out.
Nate is a weird mixture of the two. When he’s late, it’s because he wants you to wait for him. He wants to feel important. A lot of the programmers I know have egos the size of their hard drives. Nate’s so full of himself his ego could eclipse the entire state of Texas.
My dad narrows his eyes at Richard. “Where’s Nate? This is his mess we have to clean up.”
“He’s on his way,” Richard says from behind me.
My dad extends his hand toward the long, oak conference table on the left side of his office. “Shall we?”
Stefan waves to me. “Hey, you. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy.”
Stefan nods, and his hair falls in front of his green eyes. All of the King men have the same dark hair, olive skin, and emerald irises, except Richard’s hair is now mostly white.
Stefan pulls out a chair from the conference table for me. “How’s LA?”
“I love it,” I admit. “I wish I had more time to go to the beach.”
“You’re out there to work, not lounge on a beach,” my dad says with venom in his tone.
“I don’t work twenty-four-seven,” I shoot back.
When I turn away from him, Richard says hello by wrapping his arms so tight around me I can barely breathe. “Harley, I’m glad you could make it on short notice. We need your help getting out of this jam.”
“I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
I force a smile, because it’s not often that I’m included in the all-boys club. After one of many blowout arguments, my dad finally gave me the title of Creative Director. But he didn’t tell me the position was only on paper. The real director is Stefan, who’s a talented coder, but he’s not an artist like me, and not as good of a programmer as Nate.
“Good,” Richard says with a cheeky grin. “I was hoping you would say that. You never disappoint us.”
Not like Nate.
Richard squeezes me one last time and then pats my shoulder. Unlike my dad, who’s cold and closed-off, Richard is a hugger. He acts more like my dad than my father.
When we were younger, Nate and I practically lived in the treehouse in his backyard. In the summer, Richard would cook hot dogs for us on the grill, and then we’d climb into our treehouse, where we would pretend we were Peter Pan and Wendy. The sprawling estate, with its tall hedges and gorgeous fauna, was our own version of Neverland.
As an artist, I have always lived more in my mind than in the real world. Nate, with his love of game worlds and fantasy characters, just as easily got lost along with me. We were like two peas in a pod. And when he swaggers into the office like he owns the place, I forget about the boy I once knew—because the man who single-handedly destroyed this company isn’t the same person.
“Hey there, Queen,” Nate says as he approaches me with a wicked smile on his handsome face. “You look happy to see me,” he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows.
My throat closes up at the sight of him. His dark, wavy hair is gelled and styled to perfection. Tall and muscular, he fills out every inch of the navy suit that molds to his body. Women drool over him now, but I know the nerdy boy who had hair that would never stay put. His teeth were such a mess, he wore braces until our sophomore year of high school. And for a few years, I was several inches taller than Nate. But now, when he leans in to hug me, he has to dip down to meet my height.
He towers over me, his masculine scent filling my nostrils as he kisses my cheek. My skin tingles from the unexpected contact. Heat rushes to my face, which is now on fire from his delicate touch. He’s only doing this because he knows I won’t make a scene in front of our families. Nate takes every opportunity he gets to irritate me.
For as much as I hate him, I still miss him. So, when I hug him back it’s a real one. I don’t want to let him go, and the feeling seems to be mutual.