Page 18 of Bitter Rival

She’s still talking but I’ve tuned her out. Her ideas are about as original as pairing peanut butter with jelly so I cut her off before she wastes any more of my time droning on about apple pie “but the fancy kind.”

“I’ve decided not to throw a party, after all.”

“Oh.” Her brow furrows, or it would if it were capable of furrowing. “I don’t understand.”

“I know you don't, so I'm going to enlighten you. My father had security cameras installed throughout the house, and I had a little extra time on my hands and some questions about some missing items. When I went over the footage, I found something very interesting.” Her face pales and she licks her lips nervously. Bingo.

“So, listen carefully. I want you to return everything you stole from him. I want every single item, including what you pawned, and I want you to personally deliver it to my front door this evening.”

“I…I’m sure there must be some mistake,” she says with a nervous laugh.

“The only mistake is that my father never learned from any of his. You have until six p.m., Georgia.” She opens her mouth to protest. “Yes, I’ll accept your resignation effective immediately.”

Her eyes narrow on me. “That’s not what I was going to say. You can’t do this. Your father promised me?—”

“I’m not my father. Next time someone makes you ‘a promise’, get it in writing. Now unless you want a police escort, you’d better be on your way.” I wave her away with my hand. “You have some packing to do.”

She stands from her chair and smooths her hand down her dress, lifting her chin in defiance like she’s in charge and not me. “I’m going to need more than two hours.”

I tap my watch with my index finger. “Tick tock, Georgia. I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you. An orange jumpsuit would clash with your spray tan. And don’t even think about skipping town. I’ve put a tracking device on your car and hired private security to watch your house.”

She opens her mouth to speak then clamps it shut and glares at Daisy, who has stepped out of her hiding place behind an Italian cypress.

“You little thief.” She stabs a finger at Daisy who just looks bored. “I don’t know what you did to change his mind, but all of this should have been mine.”

Daisy yawns, a wide open-mouthed audible yawn that causes Georgia’s hands to ball into fists. She stomps her foot, stabs her finger at Daisy, and shrieks, “You’re going to pay for this!”

I’m laughing. This shit is hilarious.

Daisy’s hand goes to her heart, and she pretends to cower. “Oh gosh, is that a threat? I’m shaking in my shoes, Georgina.”

With a growl, Georgia turns on her heel and stomps away and I’m still laughing at this whole soap opera, bad dialogue included.

If nothing else, this was entertainment gold.

My father wasn’t that stupid though. He loved this vineyard. It was just about the only thing he ever truly valued, and if I really stopped to think about it, he might have had a good reason for making Daisy a beneficiary.

The reason hasn’t been made clear yet, but not even Astrid was able to get her hands on this vineyard, and that’s saying something.

He was putty in Astrid’s duplicitous hands, and he was too stupid to see the warning signs until it was too late.

My father was so blinded by his love for Astrid that she dictated the terms. She told him what had to be done to keep her and he complied. He forced my mother out of the house and gave up his only son.

She returned the favor by wiping out his savings account and helping herself to every valuable item in the house when she left.

But he never gave Astrid a single acre of this land.

And yet, he chose to leave half to Daisy, his stepdaughter who was allowed to live in this house after I’d been relegated to a life of hell.

She flops into the chair Georgia just vacated and looks over her shoulder before her eyes come to rest on me.

Tendrils of blonde hair escape her messy bun. She has dirt under her nails, and she isn’t wearing a speck of makeup but she’s still a thousand times more beautiful than the woman who just stormed off could ever be.

Daisy doesn’t even have to try. She would easily be the most beautiful girl in any room. And that’s one of the many things that makes her so dangerous.

“You really have a way with the ladies, don’t you?”

“Must have inherited that from my old man,” I comment dryly.

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