Page 23 of Boss Abroad
“Like you have any,” Mia fires back. “Smile a bit. I promise it doesn’t hurt.”
George comes to her rescue before I tell Mia what can, in fact, hurt. “Let’s go or we’ll get stuck in traffic. Here’s your coffee, boss.” He hands me the takeaway cup and pushes Mia out into the corridor.
I check the room one last time as I finish packing the clothes from last night into my bag and put April’s note in my pocket. I down my triple espresso in one go and follow them to the garage.
Before the car door locks, Mia is going over my agenda for the day.
“Your first meeting is at the stadium to go over Mr. Sinclair's recovery. We’re heading to Stamford Bridge now. You have a couple of hours in your office before the meeting.” She scrolls down her tablet, too slow for my liking, but she’s back reciting my appointments before her snail impersonation gets her dropped off at the zoo. “Then you have lunch with Noah at the Ivy at 1 pm and after that George will drive you back to your office in the City.”
She drops the iPad to her lap and lists the rest from memory. “You have a meeting with Mr. Rogers at 4 pm, Mrs. White at 5:30, then your massotherapy appointment is at 6 pm. Do you want to have it at the office or at home? I can get it prepped and done in either place.” I’m about to say something when Mia holds up her finger, not to be interrupted. “And no, you can’t cancel it again.”
Fucker is right, I was about to tell her to cancel it.
“Fine. At home, then. Is it a woman?”
“No, because I don’t want to keep finding you a new therapist after you’re done with her. Well, them, if we’re being honest.” Oh well, that’s embarrassing. I inadvertently turned Mia into a masseuse’s pimp. “Anyway, Hunter came highly recommended and was quite hard to book. So please don’t mess with my good work, sir.”
I give Mia a side eye. She knows me too fucking well by now.
To be honest, I asked out of habit. I’m more than satisfied after April’s services last night, so I don’t put up a fight.
“Fine. Get Kyle to meet me at the gym at 8 then.”
Mia doesn’t bother looking up as she types away and ignores my request. “I said…” She stretches the vowels, “Don’t mess with my good work, Mr. Gunn. You trained yesterday, today you relax. We’ve been over this. I have no interest in being scared to death again, thinking you’re having a heart attack.” She pauses for a deep, calming breath. “I’d say twice was more than enough for a lifetime, wouldn’t you?” No, not calming. That had so much sarcasm dripping from it, it smudged her lipstick.
“They were a cardiomyopathy, not a heart attack. Knock back the drama a bit, why don’t you?”
She straightens her posture and tells me with more authority than she’s got, “They’re stress induced and I’m not going through that again.”
She stares at me with a homicidal disposition. She might or might not have learned that look from me.
“Moving on, Mr Gunn. Martha is cleaning your flat today and was kind enough to call me and let me know your fridge is in a despicable state. Do you want to order in, or should I shop for you?”
I enjoy cooking but am often too tired or annoyed to bother. Not today. “Shop, please. Fresh pasta, eggs, guanciale and pecorino. Some fruit and veg, bread, juice and milk would be great too. Thank you, Mia. And thank Martha for the heads up.”
Mia pauses and casts a doubtful glare. “Just like that? Just ‘thank Martha’. No to Kyle and yes to a male masseuse without a lengthy argument that drains years out of my life expectancy? No. I’m not buying that. Spill it, Gunn.”
My soon to be ex-PA, who’s now begging for a trip to the nearest Job Centre, checks the whites of my eyes and then tests my temperature with a hand on my forehead. “What happened? Are you high? Did you finally decide to try the anxiety drugs the doctor suggested?” I slap her hand away, but she’s on me again a second later. Seriously, I give her too much leniency. “Did you hit your head? George, change of plans. Let’s go to the hospital.”
I grab both of her shoulders and push her back into her seat. “Are you done with your theatrics, Mia?”
That’s when George, young and not afraid to die George, repositions the rearview mirror to look at me with a stupid grin on his face. “Mia, take another look. The man’s freshly shagged.”
I take a deep breath to expunge the murderous feelings out of my body and push forward, my head going between the car seats to deliver my message nice and clear. “George, do you hate your job? We can easily fix that. You are aware of this, right?” He flinches. “Now shut up before I kick your fucking ass. Or keep at it and I’ll rephrase that with murder.” I lean back and fish for my laptop inside my briefcase. “God knows I have enough money and connections to get away with it.”
They do a lousy job of containing their giggles. They’re lucky they excel at their actual jobs. I ignore them both and fire emails until we get to the stadium, where I head straight to my office. Once inside, I shut the door, raise the blinds, and call my brother. I’m regretting this phone call before he even picks up.
“How very Pretty Woman of you, Liam.” Noah mocks me as I knew he would, and even though I don’t completely get the reference, I know I should take offense.
If it’s true what people say about how the more you care for someone, the more what they do and say gets to you, then I must really love this motherfucker.
“Fuck off, Noah.” He just laughs some more and I wonder why I bother sharing my life for my brother’s scrutiny.
Noah and I share the same father but not mother and we were born a few days apart. Safe to say our father is not the best at relationships either. A catholic, averse to condoms and abortion who ended up with nine kids scattered around the globe.
I’m the oldest—barely, but still—and Noah is the only one I’m really close to. We’ve competed against each other from birth and had fun while at it. Fought for toys when we were kids, for football and girls when in school, for grades in college, and for companies once we became adults.
We’d be fucking invincible if we worked together, but we’re rich and lazy enough that we choose to keep having fun trying to outdo one another instead of joining forces to annihilate everyone else.