Cesar was watching me.
I swallowed, gathering my strength as I walked toward him. Why was the way to his desk so long? And did he really need all this space?
I reached him and took a seat in front of him. He was still in that same pose—watching me. I forced myself to relax in the chair and asked,
"How are you, dear stepbrother?"
He wrinkled his nose in disgust.
"Don't call me that." He snapped,
"Why? But you are ..my stepbrother, aren't you?" I answered sweetly,
"Not yet. Our parents aren't married yet."
"Aren't they though? That's in the bag. The two of them are getting married. You are my stepbrother. You better start getting used to it."
He didn't answer. Instead, he looked down at his desk, then leaned back in his chair and said,
"What are you doing here?"
I laughed—just a little. A mocking laugh. "You gave me a job, remember?"
"Oh yeah, that," he said like he had already forgotten. That it was something insignificant to him, of no importance.
