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RULE #3: ALWAYS DO AS YOU’RE TOLD—ESPECIALLY WHEN IT INVOLVES GETTING ON YOUR KNEES FOR A HOT MILLIONAIRE DADDY.
Charlie
“This can’t be right.”
The house I’m looking at is a three-story Spanish-style mansion with manicured palm trees, arched windows, and a cobblestone driveway.
I swear if the guy I was just dating is secretly loaded, I’m going to be so pissed. We literally dug under our couch cushions for enough coins to get Taco Bell for dinner. There’s no waythiswas where his dad lived all along.
Climbing out of the car, feeling very out of place in this bougie neighborhood on the coast, I brush the dog hair off my black velvet skirt and walk up the paved steps toward the front door. I can literally hear the ocean from here.
This is ridiculous.
This guy is probably wiping his ass with my thousand dollar check right now.
I ring the doorbell, but it goes unanswered for about thirty seconds. Usually, I would be relieved that they don’t seem to be home, and I’m spared the awkward encounter of having to speak to strangers, but I’m too poor to be relieved. I need the cash.
I promised Sophie I would take her to that Anime Fest in April, and her birthday is right around the corner. Also, I can’t bear to live in the casita behind my mother’s house forever.
So I knock again.
“Coming!” a sweet voice calls, and I hear high heels click against hard stone floors. When the door is pulled open, I stare into the big blue eyes of a woman with wavy brown hair and full pink lips.
“Hi…I’m here to see Mr. Grant.”
She freezes with her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. Then she glances down at her watch. “Oh, okay…I didn’t know you were coming today, but it’s fine. Come in, come in.”
She didn’t know I was coming? I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here. Maybe Beau gave his family a heads-up that I would be picking up the check.
“Are you Mrs. Grant?” I ask. Last I knew, Beau told me his parents split when he was still a baby, but I guess it’s possible he has a new wife that I never knew about.
A laugh bursts through her lips as she shakes her head. “God, no. I’m just helping him out today. He should be back any minute. You can wait for him in the office.”
“Okay, thanks,” I mutter, as she guides me through the expansive living room with high ceilings and marble floors to the open French doors on the other side. It leads to a large office with bay windows overlooking the ocean. I’m struck speechless for a moment as I gaze out at the open water.
“Wow…” I whisper, freezing in the doorway.
“That is a cute outfit,” the woman says, looking down at my all-black ensemble. It’s a sheer long sleeve top with a Peter Pan collar, a black velvet pencil skirt, and tights with black Docs to finish it off.
“Thanks,” I reply with a smile.
“It’s different, but I think he’ll like it.”
“What?” I ask, but her phone rings, so she steps away. While she answers it, rambling on about some business stuff I don’t bother paying attention to, I meander around the room, taking in the style. Something feels off to me after that comment about him liking my outfit. Is this how women treat him around here? Like his opinion on our attire matters at all.
As creepy as that comment was, at least his office is beautiful. Unlike the cold, sterile feel of the rest of the house, the floor in the office is covered with a rich, scarlet-red rug and the mahogany desk is large with two deep gray armchairs facing it. My fingers graze the fabric of each one.
“He’s coming,” the woman snaps. “You should probably be on your knees.”
Assuming I misheard her, I glance back with a look of confusion on my face, but she’s already scurrying out of the room, closing the French doors behind her.
Did she seriously just say I should be on my knees?
This place is giving me some seriously weird vibes. I’m glad I didn’t bring Sophie, even if it isn’t the ghetto, not by a long shot. Now I’m starting to understand why Beau didn’t want me to meet his dad. I need to just get my check and get the hell out of here.
I turn to leave the office and ask her what’s going on, but thenhesteps into view. They are in the foyer, which I can see through the windows of the French doors, and they’re talking while the woman moves toward the exit. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but I’m too stuck on the man she’s talking to.
I’ve never even seen Beau’s dad in pictures, so I had no idea what to expect, but it wasn’t this. He’s tall, with a bulky frame and tan, sun-kissed skin. His dark hair is impeccably styled to the side with hints of white at the temples and a streak at the top. He’s wearing a suit, an expensive-looking one in a deep, navy blue.
