Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
This must be the hundredth time she’s brought up my reputation. There’s no denying the app made money and proved I can live off more than the family name.
If it were just about money and success, she’d be thrilled.
In her own way, she is, I suppose. Success is one language my parents know by heart.
What she doesn’t like is that the app revolutionized online dating. As far as she’s concerned, it fuels the playboy sins the press won’t let me shake.
She’s not wrong.
Still, I couldn’t give a flying shit about my reputation as long as it doesn’t interfere with what I want to do.
The app was about getting serious and mastering business. The pet food project is about getting real.
Like everyone else with a pulse, I want to do something meaningful with my life. More than just coming up with new ways for horny young people to hook up. Unlike everyone else, I’ve got nine figures in my bank account to make it happen.
“If it’s a choice between dignity and meaningful action, you know what I’ll pick every time,” I say.
She purses her lips together as she pushes her glasses up her nose.
Then the door swings open and a human bull storms in. Dad just missed a conversation that would’ve left his face red.
Even in his motorized wheelchair, flanked by his nurse, he’s an imposing figure. He still dresses in a designer suit and tie daily, unchanged since his heart attack.
It takes him all of two seconds to look at Charlie and turn his nose up like he sees a ratty raccoon caught tracking mud into his house.
“Is this what you’re doing with your life now?” he demands, his voice quivering. “Blowing off family friends to pick up stray dogs?”
Fuck, here we go.
I slam the laptop shut. No point in trying to accomplish anything now.
My father never allows much room for multitasking. As far as he’s concerned, everything I do should require one hundred percent of my focus.
If that’s another conversation from hell, fine, I need to give him all my attention. I can already predict every word he’ll say, so I start the debunking.
“It made sense for me to bring him somewhere he could touch grass without a long trek down the elevator and two blocks to the nearest park. My penthouse isn’t the most comfortable place.” I shrug. “Also, Nancy’s parents aren’t ‘family friends.’”
No, they’re more like future in-laws I’m not remotely interested in having.
Ever since I had to take over Dad’s media footprint, my parents have been driving the marriage freight train full speed ahead, trying like hell to set me up with Nancy Loomer. Like it’s totally normal to behave like we’re eighteenth-century socialites who do arranged marriages.
You’d think the world would move past that shit.
“Well, you’re damned right about that. You’ve proven you’re not taking this seriously.” Dad leans back in his chair, his big hands folded on his lap, glaring with an energy his failing body lacks. “Nancy won’t wait around forever, you know. Neither will her folks. She’s a nice girl and high IQ.”
It hurts not to laugh in his face.
No one who gets to know this girl would ever describe her as nice. She isn’t particularly bright, either, but it doesn’t matter when Dad’s IQ assessments operate on image and ambition rather than real accomplishments.
“Alec,” Mom cuts in sharply. “Must we start the day like this?”
“We must, considering how he’s behaving. I need my son to think harder about his life instead of filling in for animal control.”
Prick.
Behind him, his burly nurse, Freddy, coughs awkwardly. Poor dude’s lived through enough Pruitt family spats to know what’s coming.
I inhale sharply. “We found a lost dog stranded outside with the shitty air. What was I supposed to do in your view, Dad? Leave him there to suffocate?”
“You could’ve left that stray at the vet. As far as I’m concerned, you went above and beyond simply by taking him there. Time is your greatest asset, Brady. Start acting like it.”
Charlie stands with a disinterested yawn. Yeah, he’s got the right idea.
“The tech told me their kennels were filled to capacity.”
“And that’s your problem why, exactly?” His brows descend in a stormy expression I recognize too well. “If you won’t get serious with your career, you will get serious about your relationship with Miss Loomer.”
“Alec,” Mom says again. “You can’t be mad at Brady for looking out for this little guy. He’s sweet.” She strokes Charlie under the chin as he stands up to her knee height, the entire back half of his body swaying as his tail wags.
“I’ve already told you.” It’s an effort to keep my voice down, but I try. “I’m not participating in an arranged marriage from the last century. If that’s what you think I want for a public face, no thanks.”