Page 4 of Mr. Hotshot CEO

My mother, my grandmother, and my assistant stand before me with their arms crossed. It’s a rather terrifying sight.

“You know you’re screwed,” Vince says. “When we’re all on the same side, there’s no stopping us. Remember, Dad’s on our side, too, and I’m sure Cedric will be as well, once I tell him.” Cedric is my other brother.

I sigh and scrub my hand over my face. “Fine. I’ll take two weeks off work.”

But here’s my little secret: I don’t actually intend to take the full two weeks off.

Instead, I’ll stay away from the office tomorrow and Monday, and I won’t come in on the weekend, either. Hopefully four days will be enough to appease them, and then they’ll move on from this little Julian-is-banned-from-work decree.

Four days without work is bad enough, but seventeen days?

Not happening.

* * *

After having dinnerat a Thai restaurant with Mom, Po Po, and Vince, I get home at seven thirty. I live in the penthouse of a condo building in downtown Toronto. It’s only a ten-minute walk from Fong Investments, so it’s very convenient.

With a groan, I collapse on the couch in the living room. Not because I’m exhausted—far from it. I’m home earlier than usual, in fact.

What on earth am I going to do for the next four days? I can barely comprehend the idea of having so much free time. I can’t remember the last time this happened to me.

Probably when I was in kindergarten, if that. We always had lots of activities: baseball, soccer, piano, math class, Chinese school...

The thought of Chinese school reminds me that I’m teaching myself Spanish—I’m nearly fluent. For the next few days, I can immerse myself in Latin American literature and popular culture. Maybe I’ll even binge-watch a TV show in Spanish. Apparently, binge-watching is when you watch several episodes back-to-back. I’ve never done it—when would I have the time?—but I could give it a try.

I’m about to pull out my phone to look for some new shows when I remember that Vince confiscated it.

Damn. It’s going to be averylong four days.

Chapter 2

Courtney

Irock Heather backand forth, careful to support her neck as she is only a month old.

Heather decides she’s hungry and starts looking for a nipple. Unfortunately for her, I am her aunt, not her mother, and cannot provide her with the breast milk she seeks. Also, she’s latching onto my shoulder, not my breast. She starts crying when she realizes no milk is coming from Aunt Courtney’s shoulder.