“Nice.” Dean looked me over like he was trying to read my mind. “What’s got you loopy-eyed? Could it be a certain preppy heiress?”

This line of conversation had to end. Fast.

I stood and stretched the kink out of my tense neck. “I was considering all the ways I could make your life a living hell while you’re here.”

Pocketing my phone with casual ease, because I did not want to check for texts, I rounded the desk and clasped Dean’s shoulder. “See that pile of papers on the conference table?”

The table in question ran along the far length of the room and could seat fifteen.

“Piles of paper, Rhys. I see piles.”

I grinned. “That’s the accounting work for Lights Out.”

His eyes widened in horror. “You don’t have it on the computer?”

I did. But he didn’t need to know that. Shrugging, I let his stiff shoulder go. “Guess Dad liked doing things the old-fashioned way, and I haven’t had the time to get around to it. I guess it’s up to you.”

A few ripe curses ripped through the air as Dean stalked over to the table and lifted a folder to thumb through it. “I’ll be here all fucking month!”

That was the idea. And he’d never get the chance to see the true mess Dad left behind.

“Then you better start now.” I made a show of glancing at my watch. “I’m going to get a coffee. You want one? You’ll probably need the caffeine.”

“Fuck you, Rhys,” he said it without much heat, already slumped down on a conference chair and reaching for more files. “Seriously. Fuck you. This is an embarrassment. And you call me irresponsible. No wonder the gym is on shaky ground.” His brows winged up as he looked over his shoulder at me. “How can you possibly run a business this way?”

“Hey, I never said I was a businessman.” In truth, I wasn’t bad at business. But it was damn near impossible to be in the black when you started off with a mountain of debt. And I damn near shuddered at how my relatively innocent brother would have received that bit of news.

Although I was deliberately messing with him, I couldn’t ignore the small twinge of shame at his disappointment. He’d looked up to me all his life. I’d been his idol. Now, he clearly saw me as a has-been and a fuck-up.

I was beginning to think I’d never rid myself of the hot, sticky tar of regret and rage that coated my insides and pulled on my skin. It shouldn’t matter what others thought of me. But Dean mattered. I both loved and hated him for it.

Without saying another word, I turned and left the office, the sound of Dean’s bitching following me down the hall.

Carlos met up with me in the lobby. “Please tell me Dean working here is one of his jokes.”

“It is, but he seems determined to try.” I glanced at the office. “How long he’ll actually keep at it is anyone’s guess.”

“He is easily bored.”

“Usually.” Grimacing, I headed for the lounge. It wasn’t in the shape I wanted it to be; we needed something better than yellowing vending machines and two ancient coffee makers. In my mind’s eye, I replaced the clunky percolator with a push-button espresso maker, set up a new juice bar on the far side of the room, and changed the cracked tile floors to smooth, wide hardwoods.

Fairchild could make it happen. With his money, I could fix everything; more importantly, I could hire instructors and trainers and get bodies in the door, membership cards in their hands. Admiring my former career wasn’t enough, though. I had to figure out how to sell this place to him. I might be an okay businessman, but I definitely wasn’t a good salesman.

I poured myself a cup of truly shitty coffee and faced Carlos. He punched in the code for a power drink and bent to retrieve it.

“You aren’t worried about Dean getting into the accounting?” Carlos twisted the cap off the bottle and took a long drink.

“I left every bill and financial transaction the gym has had since time began on the conference room table and told him nothing was on the computer.”

Carlos choked on his drink. “Damn, man. That’s just evil.”

“But necessary. Hopefully Dean will give up long before he realizes there are holes in the accounting.”

Laughing, Carlos followed me out of the lounge. We headed toward the front stoop. Sadly, the gym smelled like feet—something I couldn’t figure out how to get rid of—and the stoop was the only place we could get some fresh air and be certain Dean wouldn’t hear us.

The sunshine blinded me as I stepped outside. Yet another reminder of how dark and dank the damn gym was. I glared down into my Styrofoam cup and then tossed the whole thing into the nearby trashcan. I didn’t want shitty coffee. I didn’t want to be here at all.