Page 16 of Bad Girl
But concussion didn’t give you detailed working knowledge of where a man’s intestines started.
I grabbed a mug from the cupboard and set it on the little tray beneath the nozzle.
Stood up straight.
Looked at my own reflection in the dark window of the drinks machine.
What are you?
I didn’t have an answer.
I glanced down, pressed the button to fill my mug with hot water, and began to plan instead.
Chapter 9
Conrí
“Mum and Dad really filled your head up with all that Alpha bullshit,” Cuán drawled.
“You’re an alpha too,” I said, and gave him the middle finger.
It wasn’t as satisfying over a laptop camera. The gesture deserved to be in person. I made a mental note.
“Yeah, but they named you wolf king.” He leaned back in his chair with the ease of a man who had never once in his life felt the need to justify his comfort.“What did I get?”
I’d heard it a million times.
We were twins. Identical, which Cuán had opinions about, as he had opinions about everything. I’d beaten him out by eighteen minutes. How that was my fault was a question I’d never been able to answer to his satisfaction, and I’d stopped trying somewhere around our twentieth year.
“Little wolf,” he said, as if the words still stung after three decades.“Little wolf.”
Thirty-six years I’d been listening to this. Thirty-seven if you counted the womb, which apparently we were doing now.
“For fuck’s sake, Cuán.” I felt my patience, never abundant where he was concerned, finally give out.“Don’t you have a company to run?”
He had the audacity to sigh. Long. Suffering.
“I called,” he said, straightening slightly and tapping his fingers on whatever obscenely expensive desk he was sitting behind,“because I want my project finished. Implemented. Done. I have a board breathing down my neck and I’d like to give them something to look at other than a timeline.”
He ran finance. I ran tech. Between us we covered enough ground to make most competitors nervous, which was exactly how our father had designed it when he’d handed us the reins—divide and conquer, keep each other honest, and for the love of all things sacred try not to kill each other before forty.
Two out of three wasn’t bad.
“I can get you an update,” I said,“but the contract still has time on it before the deadline. Your board can wait.”
“My board does not wait.”
“Then your board needs a hobby.”
He stared at me through the screen.
Everybody said we were identical. I’d never seen it. I was convinced he was the ugly one—slightly weaker jaw, slightly less focus in the eyes. I’d probably kicked him on the way out. The thought made me smile.
“Why are you smirking?” he demanded.
“Nothing.” I got back to business.“Come down here. In person. We’ll do an update meeting, I’ll walk you through where the project sits, and you can take something concrete back to your board.”
“Hm.” He rubbed his jaw—the weak one—and appeared to consider it with great ceremony.“No. I’d rather sit at my laptop.”
