Page 22 of Casita Casanova
“You’ll get a job.”
I bark out a laugh. “You really have lost your fucking mind.”
As if the car ride wasn’t bad enough, there’s not a high-rise in sight for miles, and even then, the high-rises near the airport in San Diego looked like Lego buildings compared to Manhattan. What fresh hell have I been sent to?
The driver pulls to a stop in front of a tiny beach house. I’m still fucking fuming after my phone call with Bethany, even though the ride from the airport was over an hour and should have given me time to cool off. All it did was reek of cigarettes and sadness and remind me why I’m fucking pissed.
I can’t believe the woman has cut me off. And she didn’t even tell me until I landed in San Diego, the underhanded bitch. Keeping a low profile is one thing; beingpooris another thing entirely. I don’t even know how tobepoor.
I’ve given Beth too much access to me, treated her like an assistant… even a friend. I’ve given her too much control because I’ve been lazy. Letting Beth handle everything for me was easier. It was a copout. I didn’t want to deal with it, so I passed it off onto her, so I could fuck ‘n chuck senators’ daughters in the champagne room.
And now she has control of me.
The king of an empire would never allow anemployeeto cut them off from their assets.
My father would have never let this happen.
Oh fuck.
The realization punches me in the gut.
He was right not to trust me. I can’t even keep my head out of my ass long enough to realize when I’m relinquishing control.
If I didn’t need her so damn much, Ms. Biggs and her PR firm would be gone.
But I do need her, at least for now, while she cleans up the mess I’ve made, and that means compliance. For now.
As soon as I can get a handle on my finances and get my ass home, I’m out.
And Beth is fucking history.
If getting a job and staying off the radar for a little while will help me take my rightful place at the helm of Westcott & Son Investments, then I’ll do whatever it takes.
The guy driving this shitbox clears his throat. “Is this the right place?”
Not even a little bit.
Frowning, I lean over to peer out the window. I can’t believe I allowed Beth to talk me into this. It’s just the fact that she reminds me so much of my mother that allows her to get away with this shit. That, and the crap she said about my old man struck a chord and made me weak.
But I’m done being weak.
The guy up front clears his throat again.
I shoot him a glare, then look at the house. Can it even becalleda house? It’s a shack, and that’s really churching up the description.
The wood exterior is a turquoise so dark it’s almost peacock blue, with a white picket fence that surrounds the property. A literal white picket fence. I didn’t think that kind of thing existed outside ofPleasantville. There are so many trees surrounding the house that it’s almost completely shaded. Bushes on the ground rise up high to meet the branches of the trees, and placed throughout the yard are various bird feeders and colorful glass orbs.
Fucking hell.I’m moving in with some crazy old bird lady.
Do they not have a Four Seasons out here?
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I dial Beth.
“Biggs,” she answers almost immediately. Her voice makes my shoulders tense now.
“Where the fuck did you send me?”
She sighs. “Leucadia, California. Beach town. Quaint.”
