Page 8 of Crazy In Love (Love & War #2)

“Redundant.” He flashes a taunting smile and places one hand on Franky’s shoulder, then he turns them both and starts toward the door.

“Chris’ feelings are hurt because way, way, way back before you existed, there was just me, your mom, and Chris.

We were a team, and we had a lot of fun together.

Now there’s you, your mom, me, Chris, and Fox.

And unfortunately for Fox, she’s outspoken enough to grate on his nerves and unlucky enough that Chris acts like she’s stepping on toes when she’s not. ”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here.” Anger bristles in my veins, throbbing to the beat of my heart. But do I turn around and leave? Fuck no. I blow out a huff of exasperation and follow them into the house, slamming the wire door in my wake and locking the wooden door to keep intruders away.

Then, I follow the sound of girly giggles and a cheesy rom-com playing on the television.

“Oh my gosh!” Fox’s face glows, her hands pressed to Alana’s belly. “She’s jumping like crazy!”

“That’s what I told you!” Alana’s long blonde hair sits high on her head in a messy ponytail, which is a stark contrast to Fox’s sleek mahogany locks, delicately draped over an off-white blouse suited to the office.

“Tommy thinks she’s gonna be a fighter,” Alana giggles. “She’s got strong legs already.”

“We’ll see how it shakes out,” Tommy counters, stalking past me to the kitchen, then back again with bowls already filled with dessert.

“I like the idea of teaching my baby girl how to whoop some ass. But sending her into the cage is a whole other thing. If some other brat hits her, I’m gonna hunt her daddy down and take care of business.

Here.” He leans over the back of the couch and places the first bowl in Alana’s line of sight.

He drops a kiss to her forehead and another on the tip of her nose, then he moves on to Fox…

though he skips the kissing part. “Franky and Alana made cheesecake this morning. ”

“Mmm.” Fox digs in and makes sounds in the back of her throat that belong in the bedroom.

It’s inappropriate. It’s rude! There’s a kid listening!

“I would have known even if you didn’t tell me.

” She scoops dessert onto her tongue and whimpers happily.

“Alana has allllllways been the queen of baking. In fact, before she moved here, I offered her free accommodation for the rest of her life at my apartment in the village in exchange for monthly brownies.” She closes her eyes and savors her snack. “Lord, I’ve missed this.”

“You’re making it into a whole thing.” Blushing, Alana eats, too. Though she manages to do it with less oohing and noisy aahing. “I’m not working very much right now, but sitting down all day hurts my hips. So I’ve revisited my love of baking.”

“Which is funny, since you started at the end of your first pregnancy.” Smug, Fox peeks over and pins me with a look that screams fuck you ! “It sucks you guys never experienced that baking. It changed my life.”

“I’ll show you around the bookstore tomorrow if you want, Aunt Fox.

” Franky strolls around the couch and climbs up to sit on the arm, tucking his feet under Alana’s thigh.

“I can teach you the computer system and the storage room and stuff. We need to make a new book order, but Mom said we could save it for when you get here so you could see.”

“That sounds fantastic.” She lounges back, burying herself in the couch cushions, and hugs her bowl to her chest. “I’ll be up, bright and early, so whenever you’re ready to rock and roll, I’m ready to learn.

” She meets his eyes and grins. “I’m quick on the job and always have glowing references. Would you like to see them?”

He giggles. “I believe you. And I already talked to Booker to make sure.”

“You talked to Booker?” she laughs. “Checking up on me?”

“What is your job, anyway?”

Dammit, Chris! Shut the fuck up.

Four sets of eyes swing across, like tractor beams burning my skin and clawing at my face. They watch me, stare at me. Silence hangs but for the movie playing on the screen. Then Fox smirks, grabs a little more cheesecake, and slides it onto her tongue. “What do I do?”

I could have gone straight home. I could be sitting on my couch right now, all alone, exactly how I like to be. I could be comfortable in a pair of sweatpants instead of jeans and barefoot, which is way better than the boots that itch the soles of my feet.

But no. I insisted on driving to the fucking airport and collecting a socialite whose mere existence bothers me in ways I can’t explain .

“Yes.” I push the single syllable past gritted teeth. “You.”

“I’m the CHO at Gable, Gains, and Hemingway.”

“That’s a marketing firm!” Franky fun facts me. “Their building is in Manhattan, and it’s huge. It’s not the tallest, but it’s one of them. You can see it from miles and miles outside the city.”

I draw my eyes back to Fox, my nose twitching with displeasure when I find her brown gaze waiting for mine. “So you’re in marketing? You write ads and stuff?”

“No. My boss writes ads and stuff.” She allows a lazy, languid smile to spread across her lips. “I’m the CHO. My job is much more important.”

I dig my hands deeper into my pockets. “Chief… something officer. Sounds prestigious. You must’ve worked hard to get there at…” I look her up and down. “Thirty-five?”

I’m a bastard, I know.

“Twenty-eight,” she bites out. “In fact, I had a birthday just a few days ago.”

Alana gasps, grabbing her friend. “I’m sorry I couldn’t fly out for the party! You know I would’ve if I could, right? There’s no chance I would’ve skipped it if I had literally any other choice.”

“You’re seventy-five months pregnant. You’re not allowed to fly, and sitting in the car for two days would send anyone crazy.” She places her hands on Alana’s baby bump. “I forgive you.”

“We’ll make it up to you while you’re here. I promise. I’m gonna do something special for you just as soon as this giant baby is out of me.”

“I already told you what I wanted for my birthday, anyway. But since that bambina is still locked inside the vault of Alana, I guess I’ll trade birthday buddy for a birthday month buddy.” Smirking, Fox glances over her shoulder and catches me staring. “I’m Chief Happiness Officer, by the way.”

Her words don’t make sense. The phraseology doesn’t compute. I blink, and then I blink again. I open my mouth to speak, and then I snap it closed again. Then I reach up and scratch the back of my neck. “What?”

“Chief Happiness Officer. That’s what I do.”

“Your… Your job is happiness ?”

“I work within a stressful industry where burnout is real and too common, and business executives perform exponentially better when that stress is mitigated. My job, specifically, is to make them happy.”

“You’re a—” Hooker? Paid companion? Massage therapist with the happy ending services? “You’re a high-end escort?”

Alana gasps. “Christian! ”

Tommy throws his head back, barking out a laugh that leaves his chest bouncing.

Franky, thankfully, is oblivious.

“No.” Unfazed, Fox scoops more cheesecake onto her tongue. “I already told you what I am. The fact you took to it with a scarlet-colored crayon is something you should discuss with your therapist.” She brings her eyes back to Alana. “Do they have those out here in the hills?”

“But what the hell is a chief happiness officer?” Why are they laughing at me? There’s no such thing. “I don’t get it.”

“You’re gonna get yourself shot,” Tommy giggles. He giggles !

“She plans team bonding experiences,” Alana explains. “She decorates the office to prioritize peaceful flow and good energy.”

“You’re shitting me?”

“Her job is to reduce stress within the workplace. Ergonomic furniture, clearer computer monitors, blue lens glasses. Office flow, maximizing break times, catering with healthy, clean food, since junk food is often the first a stressed person will go for, which actually makes stress worse.”

“My job is to assess my company and find ways to make it better. Relaxed staff members perform more efficiently. It’s statistically proven.”

“That’s just… that’s…” I look at Tommy and search for sense. For confirmation that this is all a joke. “That’s not even a real job!”

Alana scowls. “Chris!”

“My paycheck says otherwise,” Fox counters. “And the plaque on my office door.”

“And your ergonomic chair,” Franky helpfully adds. “And your coworkers are always smiling. I saw it every time I visited.”

Fox hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “See? It’s real.”

I turn on my heels and stride away because the irony isn’t lost on me that when I’m around her, my stress levels rise .

I have nothing to say that won’t get me in trouble with Alana and no fucking way to end this conversation with anything remotely kind.

So I stalk across the kitchen, echoing laughter hitting my back like an obnoxious slap from a drunken friend.

Flipping the locks, I yank the door open and move onto the porch.

I can’t deal with her. I can’t deal with fake ass people or ulterior motives.

I can’t deal with the woman who so clearly wants Alana to choose her over Plainview and the one who will, no doubt, lay claim over the sweet little baby I get to call my niece.

“She’s not even related to them!” I slam the door and stomp down the stairs. “And that’s not a real job.”