Free-Form (Free #1) Read Online Xavier Neal

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Funny Tags Authors: Series: Free Series by Xavier Neal
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Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
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“No,” the woman I swear lives to make employees cry casually counters, “it’s weeks. As you know, Brit’s getting married again – finally – and the one thing my big sister wants more than anything else in the world – and trust me when I say anything because I even offered to have Tina Turner come all the way from Switzerland and sing at this thing – is for her one and only son to be present for the damn thing.”

There’s no stopping the small swoon from escaping, “Aw.”

“Ugh,” Brandi promptly gags in rebuttal, “you have no idea how much easier it would’ve been to get the ‘Queen of Rock’n’Roll’ to come sing ‘The Best’ for four minutes versus holding my nephew hostage until the big day.”

“I’m sorry…hostage?!” I squeak at the top of my lungs. “What do you mean hostage?!”

“I mean for the next ten weeks your only job, your only concern, your only reason for fucking getting up in the morning is for him.”

That sounds a little too Fear for me and something in my guts tells me, Tucker Frost looks nothing like a young Mark Wahlberg. Although…if he did…this whole scenario might be more of a cuddly daydream rather than a nightmare putting me in a chokehold during brunch hours.

“You’ll be moving into that lake house that I had you book last week with him in order to provide around the clock surveillance and care.”

Now when she says the word care I feel like an escort I don’t remember signing up to be.

Brandi’s fingers fold firmly together. “You’ll be his cook-”

“I don’t really do that.”

“You’ll be his maid-”

“I wish I didn’t have to do that.”

“You’ll be his goddamn Uber driver to take him to and from wherever it is he wants to go, not only because he’s a flight risk – obviously – but because the last time he was entrusted with a vehicle of his own he signed over the title to a woman leaving a domestic violence shelter claiming he was relinquishing all of his unnecessary material possessions to those who could truly appreciate them.”

Oh…good.

Crazy just runs through their fucking gene pool.

Let’s put that on the list of reasons why I should start looking for a new job.

You know…right underneath going to royally fuck this whole assignment up.

“I need him here for his mother’s wedding send off, and if I’m extra lucky, I may be able to finally talk him into contributing a piece of his artwork for the original hotel here in Highland, an anniversary present that my parents would shit a gold brick to have.”

Imagery I so did not need after having a Twinkie for so-called breakfast.

Probably could’ve had something more nutritious if I would’ve gone grocery shopping last night instead of dorm room décor hunting with my baby sis who’s moving all the way up to Vlasta, Wisconsin at the end of summer.

The fact she got into such a prestigious school on a scholarship definitely goes on the win list.

Having her be so far away from me after I’ve spent so much of my life helping raise her – drawbacks of having a mother whose pharmaceutical rep job has always kept her traveling – of course goes on the suck list.

Ah, so many lists.

So few things crossed off.

Including putting my Commercial and Advertising Arts degree from Ashwin University to actual use.

Sadly, doing personal bitch work for the head of the Art Division of The Frost Luxury Hotel Corporation is as close I’ve gotten.

I attempt to clear my throat before beginning my objection yet end up choking on my own spit instead, creating a sound so disgusting that Brandi doesn’t hesitate to lean back into her black leather chair. “You’re not contagious, are you?”

“What?” Quickly shaking my head immediately occurs. “No, I just…um…I swallowed wrong.”

“People can swallow wrong?”

“Well-”

“Leave it you Juniper-”

“Just June.”

“-to show me the miraculous ways people can screw up even the smallest tasks.”

Ouch.

Sidestepping my own hurt feelings – an action I’ve spent my entire professional career mastering – I intertwine my fingers in front of me, accidentally scraping my knuckles against the piece of furniture determined to be my demise. “With all due respect, Mrs. Harding-”

“Make sure you maintain that respect as you proceed.”

“Are you sure I’m the best fit to assist your nephew?” My spine struggles to straighten. “I feel my skills would be better suited serving you. I’m currently the one with the longest employment-”

“I already miss Dylan.”

“Dylon.”

“That’s what I said.”

“It is. And as the one with the longest employment record,” I swiftly push on pretending she’s right because I get paid to, “wouldn’t you rather entrust your most important personal matters such as the replacement of your flowers in this space to match your mood, your seaweed wraps, and your physical redesigning appointments to someone with more experience as opposed to less?”



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