Chapter 22

“I’m fucking doing it!” I snap, throwing down my phone and pulling the papers over to me to sign with more aggression than warranted. Almost stab my pen in the damn contract as I dot the I in my name and toss the pen down when I’m done, aware of the eyes on me around the dark wood table of the conference room, but I don’t give a shit. I feel shitty and pissed off; this is the last thing I want to do right now.

Some crappy minor brief on one of our low-tier businesses who want funds for a re-brand; spending all day stuck at Carrero tower at my father’s request when I want to be smashing a boxing bag into next week to expel this feeling. I don’t care if they fold right now, they make less than a hundred grand a quarter anyway, and it’s barely worth the time I have spent here today.

“You are not too old to get a spanking.” My dad warns across the walnut conference table, a hint of humor in his cool look, and I glare at him equally coolly like father like son. We have a good