Show & Sell

I’m good-looking, and I know it. The attention is great, but it also makes me feel a little jaded. To have women fall at my feet all the time, with no sense of chase, excitement, or adventure...well, it gets old.

It doesn’t come easy either.

All manner of blood, sweat, and tears go into these muscles. My chiseled six-pack and streamlined torso are thanks to a religious and punishing regime of self-sacrifice. Bulging chest and shoulder muscles come from years of pushing and pressing.

I spend a large portion of each day perfecting my physique to achieve the stares that are coming my way now. I’d be disappointed if they didn’t look.

The elevator stops at the penthouse.

I walk out and nearly knock a young woman off her feet.

“S-s-shit,” she stutters and stares at me with innocent puppy eyes. “I…I …”

She’s pretty enough for me to have fun with. Time to put on the charm.

“Entirely my fault, sweetie,” I purr. “Are you all right?”

I pat her on the shoulder and notice with delight how her cheeks redden to the color of the ripest tomato.

“Yes. Thank you. Fine, Mr. Grayson,” she says, breathing hard and fast.

This will be fucking easy.

“Can I make it up to you later?”

Her face looks as eager as a child who’s just been offered all the chocolate in the world.

“That’s not necessary,” she mumbles, and I know she’s going to be easy prey.

“No. It’s the least I can do. I really want to make sure you’re all right,” I say, voice filled with feeling and compassion.

Women love that sort of shit.

“Well,” she starts and stares at my package. “I guess if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Tell you what, sweetie,” I interrupt her.

Time is of essence, and I need to fucking fly.

“I’ll find you after my meeting, and we’ll go somewhere more private.”

Now she’s so red she might explode.

Grinning, I walk off. My mid-morning fuck is in the bag.

My dad’s secretary drops the teabag she’s taking out of her mug as I walk past her desk. I nod a greeting in her direction. She’s a nice woman and has always been loyal to my dad.

I’m pretty sure they were fucking, but that’s beyond the grave now.

With a great flourish, I open the door and pause briefly as I see my brothers, mirror images of my own face.

It gets tiring having to differentiate myself from them all the time. Luckily for me, we mostly lead separate lives.

I go in and take a seat in one of dad’s leather chairs. I put my boots up on the table without a care in the world.

“Jasper, it’s nice to see you,” Finn says through clenched teeth, obviously hating my nonchalant attitude.

“You, too, brother. It’s been too long,” I say.

“Not long enough I’d say,” Declan comments wryly.

I shake my head. How long has it been?

Twelve months. Twelve long fucking months, and nothing’s changed.

Without a word or acknowledgement to them, I get up and stride to the little hole in the wall where dad kept his scotch.

Dad loved a good drop. There’s no fucking way I can get through this meeting without a strong alcoholic drink.

The old man still had a near full bottle of Dalmore Sixty-Two—the best fucking Single Highland Malt Scotch there is in the office. Several ice cubes into a thick crystal glass, and I’m in business.

Now, I turn to the rest of them. They look just like last year, maybe a bit older, but none the fucking wiser. I smirk at my own mental joke.

“Okay,” I say, keeping my voice crisp and business-like. “Let’s get to it.”

No need for small talk. It’s family—who gives a shit what they’ve been up to? Besides, I’ve got an idea already of what their lives are like.

“Impatient, are we?” Declan says coldly.

I take a long, thoughtful drink and say, “Let’s get this meeting on the way. I’ve got people to see, places to be, you know how it is.”

Deliberately, I glance at my million-dollar watch.

Instead of agreement, I’m bombarded with icy glares. The temperature drops considerably, and I pull up a chair around the massive mahogany table, the only piece of furniture still in this room.

The old thing sits about sixteen people. Why we need this piece of crap in here is beyond me. It’s too big and too old.

I’m ready to take dad’s office and everything else about this company into the new generation.

“I guess we should talk about the upcoming auction,” Finn says after he clears his throat and shoots daggers in my direction.

I’m not sure what I’ve done to piss him off, other than existing.

“Dad was an avid supporter, and we need to do good by his name,” Declan says.

Dad was a supporter of lots of shit—that doesn’t mean we should be, too.

“What’s this auction about?” I take another sip and glance at my watch again.