Free Kiss the Sky by Krista Ritchie, Becca Ritchie

was there when you made the bet,” he reminds me. “Lap
dance rain check? Lily and I want a front row seat.”
    Lily mutters something that sounds like only if she wants to .
    “Fine,” I say as Connor’s hand skims my waist. I step out of
his touch, anxiety heating my neck more than the small fire ever did. I am going to have to gyrate on him. In
public. With millions of people watching later on television. Oh. Shit…
    The only upside: the first episode is airing in February, a
month from now. So I have some time before people witness my inability to
grind.
    “I think we missed something,” Daisy says to Ryke .
    He stares down at her. “Apparently I’ve been missing a lot
of fucking things lately.”
    She looks away from him, and when she notices I’m watching
her, she just smiles at me. I think Ryke is worried
about her. We all are. There’s a small fear she’s going to end up like Lily—sex
crazed and compulsive. All this media attention is affecting her at school in
ways that no one knows. Daisy won’t talk to us about it. And she could very
well blow off steam in a bad manner.
    Loren carries Lily out of the living room and up the stairs,
her legs wrapped around him. Wiry Ben follows close behind.
    I turn slightly, and my arm hits a camera. Pudgy Brett has a
big smug grin on his face, as if he won the bet too. Well I guess everyone
fucking won but me. “Put that smile away, Brett, before I make it a permanent
frown.” My threat does sound serious (it’s really not), but I’m edgy enough
that I feel like I could truly cause astronomical damage.
    I glance around at the coffee table. White foam. Charred
napkins. Burnt food. Dirtied plates. An overturned ottoman. Is that a stain on
the rug? Oh…
    “I’ll clean it up,” Connor tells me.
    “I’ll help,” Scott adds.
    Connor gives him a look.
    “What?” Scott smiles. “I live here now. Might as well lend a
helping hand.”
    I have a feeling that a “helping hand” is more than I’ll get
from Scott.
    Six months. Six
months.
    If I repeat it, maybe it won’t feel so long.

 

 
    [ 6 ]
    CONNOR COBALT

 
    This is a shit waste of an afternoon.
    The thought runs on repeat as I listen to another Cobalt
Inc. board member drone on about advertising and angel investors. I have the
urge to stand up and let everyone know that they have successfully battered the
conversation.
    But I don’t.
    These are the highest ranked employees in the company. If
there’s any hope of taking the reins to Cobalt Inc. without looking like I
undeservingly inherited it, I have to bite my tongue. The company owns brands
like MagNetic , Smith & Keller paints, and other
profitable subsidiaries—things that have lined my pockets since birth.
    I feign interest as best I can, but I’m sitting at the head
of a long conference table filled with twenty middle-aged men. During these
meetings, I’m my mother’s interim—a position she granted me two years ago. It
means nothing really.
    On paper, I’m still just her son. This is merely a test.
    My mother has never been quick to let go of the empire she
built from the ground up. In order to be a board member, become the CEO, and
acquire her shares, I have to prove myself. Like these meetings or certain
tasks she gives me at the least opportune moments. My cellphone is always in my
pocket, threatening to go off.  
    I keep waiting for the sudden demand to entertain her
business partners or a family friend. And I’m always grateful when she’s
decided to leave me alone for the night.
    I type “notes” onto the small tablet in my lap. Really, I’m
outlining an assignment I have to complete tonight for one of my business
courses at Wharton. I may have graduated from Penn last year, but now I’m in
the big leagues. Grad school. I want an MBA. I don’t need it. Not really.
    I’ll be CEO of Cobalt Inc. with or without the degree. But
the respect I crave won’t be handed to me so easily.
    My phone buzzes in my pants, loud enough