“Ugh! My brother is an infuriating, arrogant ass!” Trevor Donovan yelled as he slammed down the telephone on his desk.

Michael Bandy, one of Trevor’s only friends at work, peeked his head into the office to see what the ruckus was about. “You okay, dude?”

Trevor disliked being called ‘dude,’ but he didn’t want to insult Bandy. After all, he referred to the other man as ‘Bandy,’ so he didn’t really have any right to be indignant about his nickname. “No… I mean, yes… Oh, hell, I don’t know.” Trevor ran his hand through his thick, jet-black hair as he stared out the window.

Bandy walked in and shut the door behind him. “Spill,” he instructed.

“Trey is putting me in charge,” Trevor revealed.

“Of the Midwest Division? That’s fantastic!” Bandy sounded enthusiastic, but Trevor couldn’t help wondering if his friend was really happy for him, or if there might be some heavily concealed envy in there somewhere. Bandy had been with Donovan Enterprises longer, and he had a better track record than Trevor. Nepotism was a real thing, and he knew most of his brother’s many employees wouldn’t be at all thrilled to hear the news he had just been given.

“No, man.” Trevor shook his head, still not quite believing it himself. “All of it.”

“All of it?” Bandy’s head actually jerked back. “ALL of it?” He was having trouble comprehending what this meant. Trevor understood the confusion because he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it either.

“The whole empire,” he finally clarified, mostly in the hopes of erasing the perplexed look from Bandy’s face.

“But he built this company from the ground up,” Bandy started, “And he loves it. I’ve never seen a man more dedicated to his work.” Trevor nodded, unable to argue with the accuracy of any of those statements. “What is he going to do?”

“I think he’s going to bake cupcakes, or something.” Trevor flinched, even as he said the words. The entire conversation had been so out of character for his brother that he almost wondered if he was being pranked.

“Cupcakes?” The one-word question was overflowing with disbelief. Bandy shook his head, obviously as confused as Trevor.

“I guess.” Trevor shrugged his shoulders, unsure what else to say. He didn’t understand it either. His ruthless, workaholic brother was not the type to just hand over the reins of his billion-dollar company so he could go put on an apron and bake. It simply didn’t make any sense. Restless, Trevor got up and strolled over to stare out of his office’s one window. Soon, he would be able to view the world below from a wall of windows.

After a lengthy silence, Bandy finally said, “Wow.”

Trevor turned back to look at his friend then. He nodded his agreement with the assessment. Neither one of the men could quite believe it. “We’re announcing it tomorrow, so keep it on the down-low.”

“Sure, dude. No problem,” Bandy promised jovially, already backing out of the office. “Well, good luck and don’t forget about us little people,” Bandy added before walking out and reclosing the door behind him.

Trevor already regretted telling the other man the news. He might as well have announced it over the office intercom system or sent a company-wide email. Bandy was such a gossip-queen that he had probably already told everyone he passed in the hallway on the way back to his own office.

Trey would be pissed if word leaked out before he had a chance to make an official statement. Taking a deep breath and dreading his brother’s reaction, Trevor suddenly realized that Trey’s reaction really didn’t matter anymore. He was in charge now. Just the idea of it made his chest puff up a little bit.

He was so used to obediently complying with his older brother’s wishes that it had never occurred to him that he might someday be the one in the position of power. It was something that Trevor had always longed for, but never quite believed would actually happen.

It was real, though. He was the boss, not Trey. The realization was shocking and liberating and frightening all rolled into one big ball of delicious anxiety.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?