Eight Brothers Fiancee (Love by Numbers 7)
Still. It probably wouldn’t be the worst idea to start thinking about getting a permanent job. I had plenty of experience and it wouldn’t be bad to settle myself a little bit. I didn’t want to completely hang up traveling the world, but my apartment was still mostly bare because I never spent much time here, and when I was home, I didn’t really have many friends who wanted to meet up with me because I was never around. I might like to seriously invest in a home and some good relationships—it would be good for me.
Not that I was planning on working for the Foxx’s in any shape, form, or fashion. I’d rather keep travelling, have walls as white as an asylum, and never have any friends at all before I’d do that. Huxley and Harley weren’t even the only Foxx brothers in existence. The twins had 6 adopted brothers, each one of them as miserable as the next one over. The Foxxes stayed in the media. Sex scandals, bar fights, explosive relationships…if it existed, the Foxx brothers had dipped a toe in it. I barely managed to survive dealing with the two Foxxes in college, eight experts in how to make one regret being born, no thank you.
I made myself a simple breakfast of bacon and eggs and then made my way over to the couch in the living room. I searched for a couple of hours trying to find a news station that didn’t have the Foxx news on it, but I wasn’t having much luck. I typically liked to spend my mornings catching up the news for the day, but all anyone could talk about was speculation about who the Foxx twins were planning to hire. I cared so little that I eventually decided on some really shitty reality TV. It wasn’t my first choice, but it would do until the Foxxes faces were gone.
I poked my fork in the fluffy eggs I’d prepared and was just about to put them in my mouth when I heard my phone ring. I was fairly certain I’d put it on silent, but it wouldn’t be the first time I believed I’d done something in a sleep induced stupor and hadn’t actually. Whoever it was could wait. I had eggs and some unbelievable dating show to attend to. The phone stopped ringing, but before silence even settled over my apartment, it started to ring again.
“What the heck?”
First the incessant social media notifications and now the phone calls? I ignored it once again and waited for it to stop ringing. Quiet called back to me and I let out a sigh of relief, “Thank--
“Warning. The same phone number has called you three consecutive times, and has activated your emergency contact protocol.”
“No!” My smart devices were set to auto-answer if I didn’t pick up when someone called me three times in a row. It was in case I found myself in an emergency situation when I couldn’t get to my phone and my mom was trying to call me or something. “Uh, off! Stop! Don’t answer!”
“Answering.”
“No!!”
“Hello?” A woman’s voice filled my apartment. “Miss Storm?”
I let out a sigh, suddenly wishing for the old rotary phone days when it was possible to ignore someone. “Hello? Who is this?”
“Is this Miss Storm?”
“Yes, yes, this is Miss Storm, who is this?” I barked.
“Miss Storm, my name is Holly Partridge. I’m calling with a job offer for you.”
I set my untouched breakfast down on the coffee table and muted the television. “Oh. Great. Is this for my Harry/Meghan story?”
The woman let out a light chuckle. “No, ma’am. I’m not purchasing an exposé, I’d like to offer you a permanent job at our network. We have an opening for an anchor at our news network and my bosses have seen your work and would like to offer you the position.”
“Wow! That’s amazing. I would be honored. When can I--” I stopped short. A recent opening for an anchor at a news network. That sounded familiar. “You wouldn’t happen to be calling from Foxx, would you?”
“Yes I am. I assume you’ve seen the headlines then. In any event, when can you--”
“I don’t want the job.”
The woman cleared her throat. “I’m sorry?”
“I don’t want the head anchor job. Find someone else.” I was trying not to be so unprofessional that I blacklisted myself in the industry, but I had absolutely no intentions of working for the Foxxes. “I appreciate the offer, but you can tell your bosses I said no thank you.” There was no response for a long time. I thought that maybe Holly hung up. “Hello? Are you still there?”
“Come on now, Alexa. That’s really no way to talk to people,” a new voice boomed over the speaker. It was deep and silky smooth; I recognized it instantly.