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I go upstairs and take my time in the shower. If my visitor didn’t make an appointment, she can wait. After dressing in a clean shirt and tailored slacks, I walk to the lounge.
A young woman with a square face and strong features sits on the sofa, typing on her phone. She wears a navy pants suit with a white silk blouse that ties with an old-fashioned bow in the front. Red heels matching a red handbag complete the outfit. Her blond, shoulder-length hair is cut straight with long bangs reaching her eyebrows. The blue eyeshadow and eyeliner accentuating her eyes are dark, but instead of making her look like a clown, the makeup gives her a bold and flashy appearance. She somehow manages to pull off the look that would’ve been kitsch on anyone else. I instantly recognize her from the media photos.
Daisy Remington.
Sabella’s half-sister.
She looks up when I enter. A slow smile curves her red lips. “It’s about time.”
I nod at the guard who stands in the corner with his hands folded in front of him. At the quiet instruction, he gives us privacy.
“What do you want?” I ask, stopping in front of her on the opposite side of the coffee table.
Her mouth twists with amusement. “I guess that means you know who I am.”
“Who doesn’t?”
She utters a laugh at my unspoken referral to the country-wide scandal her mother dropped on every news channel when she came clean about her affair with Sabella’s father. Then she nods as if she’s got me all figured out.
Not by a long shot, honey. My manner is curt. “Now that the introductions are over, I suggest you get to the point.”
She drops her phone in her handbag and crosses her arms and legs. “Where’s my sister?”
I mock her with a smile, already knowing the answer before I ask, “Is that why you’re here?”
“No.” She swings her leg. “I’m just wondering why you’re not living together.”
My smile turns cold. “Who says we’re not?”
“I’ve been here every day for most of the week. If Sabella was living here, I would’ve known.”
“Maybe I have more than one house.”
“Obviously.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m not stupid.” Scrutinizing me, she continues in a smug tone. “But this is your main house. I’m just wondering what it says about your relationship if you moved her into one of the secondary houses you keep for your mistresses.”
“Like your father moved your mother into thesecondaryhouse in Hout Bay?”
Her jaw locks, giving her features an unattractive, hard angle. Glaring at me, she says, “I’m here about business.”
I widen my stance. “Business?”
“My father had four children—three who got his surname…and me.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel sorry for you?”
She drags in a breath and exhales with flaring nostrils. “I had as big a claim on the business as his other children. A quarter of it should’ve been mine.”
I raise a brow and wait.
“Ryan told me you own the business now. Everything. Did my father sign it over because Sabella was his favorite? Is that why the rest of us got nothing, not a penny or a lousy share?”
“If I remember correctly, he left you a few million.” My voice is flat. “But you want more money.”
She stands. “I want my cut of the business.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
Her lips stretch into an ugly grin. “Not even close.”
