Big Shot. Katy Evans

       Two

      William

      Ever recognized a mistake the second you made it? I do all of the time. Most recently, several seconds ago, when I was rude to my assistant. The second I shoved the pile of paperwork into her hands, I knew I was being harsh. When I walked away without acknowledging my mistake, I knew I was unforgiveable.

      But who cares, right? This is me now. I stalk away with my head held high, and no one is shocked or disappointed. This is what the people working for me expect. I cut through the BS and it’s served me well for years. It’s become the norm. I’ve made my bed and now I lie in it.

      It’s just the way things are.

      I head to my office and shut the door before anyone can follow me inside. I need to be alone, but it’s hard when this entire building is made of glass. My father suggested the design when I was busy building Walker Industries from the ground up. I didn’t care about aesthetics at the time, so I went along with it. My father claimed it would promote a healthy work environment. He said that my employees would see me as accessible if they could view me at work in my office. Instead it makes me feel like I’m in a giant fishbowl, being judged left, right and center.

      I sit down at my desk with an inaudible sigh, hoping I don’t seem as stressed as I am. When I glance to my left, India has retreated to her office to deal with the paperwork I’ve given her. She glances my way and gives me a fake smile before sitting down and angling her chair away from me.

      India is the only one who is clear about how much she dislikes me. I don’t know if she intends to show her disgust, but it’s written all over her face whenever we interact. It’s kind of a relief, in some ways. No one else has the guts to do anything but accept my behavior with grim determination. India might not say anything, but I know exactly what she’s thinking.

       William Walker is a total bastard.

      I sit at my desk for a long time without doing anything. I can’t think straight. Not after the news I received this morning. My little brother, Kit, the screwup of the family, welcomed a child into the world a few months ago, which was hard enough to accept. As if it wasn’t enough that he’s got the perfect wife. Now the new feature he’s released at Cupid’s Arrow, my father’s company and now the world’s leading dating app, has earned Kit billionaire status. Which makes us equals in terms of our careers, despite how many more years I’ve put into Walker Industries than he has at Cupid’s Arrow.

      I can’t figure out why I care. Maybe it’s because I was always the successful one. Maybe it’s because I’ve always taken some kind of pleasure in being compared to Kit. His mistakes only ever made me look better. Now all that’s changed. Now we’re on equal footing and I can’t quite figure out how to handle that.

      I’m selfish. How can I not find it in me to be proud of my brother, who has finally picked himself up out of the gutter and made something of himself? And then it clicks. He’s managed to do everything I’ve done. He’s done it quicker than I ever did. And he’s come out the other end with everything I’ve ever wanted. Power. Status. Money.

      Even his wife he met through working together at Cupid’s Arrow. Now he has everything, including the perfect family.

      Family.

      It’s the thing I’ve always craved above all else. My father and I have never been particularly close. He’s British, as is Kit. Kit and I are brothers from different mothers. Mine is American and cultured. Kit’s is British and a total mess. My father transplanted here when he met my mother, but he met Kit’s mother on a fling when he was visiting family in Britain. Two divorces later, my father stayed in the US to raise Kit and me. My father and I...we spend a lot of time together, but it’s a kind of business arrangement when I think about it. We talk about the company, we talk about money and shares and expenditures, and then we shake hands and go our separate ways.

      He was always closer with Kit. Maybe because Kit is more like him in many ways—easygoing, not taking himself so seriously. Kit didn’t spend his entire twenties trying to do everything right. He didn’t try at anything at all—work, love or sobriety. None of it interested him. While I was busy climbing the career ladder, I almost missed the moment where that changed and he found his wife, Alex. Now he’s got everything and I’m still single, wondering when I might get the same chance to change.

      I have no trouble attracting women, but things never last. They think I’m arrogant, rude and difficult. And they might not be wrong. All of this time spent fighting tooth and nail to build Walker Industries into what it is today has turned my heart to stone. At least that’s what people think.

      I don’t blame them, of course. I understand their reasoning. I know that when all I can talk about is the company I’m practically married to, my good looks and money can’t save me.

      My temper doesn’t help.

      I let the stress pile up and up until I crack and take it out on someone, like I did with India earlier. But I’m not a bad person. At least I hope I’m not. I’ve just lost the way a little and forgotten how to be good. I need a woman who will help me find the right path again.

      I glance at India, who is typing away on her computer, her face devoid of emotion. She’s a beautiful woman, with her tanned skin and a spray of freckles on her nose. Eyes the color of the coffee she drinks so often. Huge, wild curls that pass her dainty shoulders. It doesn’t even matter that she dresses in drab clothes, because she always looks good.

      I realize I’m staring and turn my attention to my computer. I really shouldn’t be having any kind of thoughts about my assistant, but it’s better than thinking about Kit.

      I wonder what it would be like to have a woman like India in my life. She’d keep me on my toes, that’s for sure. Even if she doesn’t show it at work, I can tell she’s got fire. She’s smart as hell, organized and hardworking. A good worker. She’s funny too. She always has the guys by the coffee machine in stitches with her cryptic comments.

      But I wonder what she’d be like in a relationship. Pure fire in the bedroom, of course. Passionate in every respect, now that I think about it. I imagine she’s the type who would hold grudges over little things and drown in jealousy when another woman shows interest. But I could be wrong. After all, I’ve never taken much time to get to know her.

      Am I seriously fantasizing about the assistant I’ve done nothing but boss around? I shake my head. She would never be interested in me after the way I’ve treated her. Do I want to ask her out to dinner? Sure. Will I ever? Of course not. I know that even if it was appropriate, she’d definitely say no. What kind of girl wants to go out with the guy who makes her life miserable?

      I hear her phone ring through the glass wall and she sighs loudly, picking up and putting on her best cheerful voice. She seems to relax a little as the person on the other end starts talking. She even laughs a little, leaning back in her chair and listening with interest. I roll my eyes. I already know who must be on the phone.

      Kit.

      I have to wait several minutes while India chats on the phone. Then she glances my way and says that she’s going to put Kit