Page 3 of Sugar Pie
The next day, I would start my first day as a general contractor, just like my birth father had been before his overdose. I figured it was the beginning of something new.
Sleep came quickly after the long drive, and I awoke to my first few online jobs, which I’d set up before leaving. I cleaned myself up then finished the last of the bread. It was time to get started.
I’m not sure why seeing where I came from mattered to me, but it did. I drove to Greenville to start, where I’d been born, which seemed appropriate even though I didn’t remember it. No one would have thought to find the adopted son of a trillionaire there, working with his hands.
I drove my truck to my first job. The community was named, but there was no formal security gate to check IDs. I parked in front of the McMansion, and a redhead with her hair in a bun and dressed for high tea with the Queen answered when I knocked on the front door.
“I’m Warren Tate, here for your electrical work.”
Tate had been my birth parents’ last name. Not calling myself a Norouzi felt like a betrayal of trust, though it didn’t matter just then.
Mrs. Morris, the redhead, waved me to the side and pointed me to her high-ceilinged dining room, which had a box sitting on the floor. “Go. I want this chandelier to sparkle in my house.”
I would have guessed that she’d spent three hundred max on the piece—Maman was an interior designer when she wanted to be, and I’d learned a thing or two from her. However, not everyone grew up in mansions and had access to everything. I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She made a tsk then left me alone.
My only issue was that I had no ladder. I needed to spend money on supplies and go to the store immediately.
Luckily, the redhead hadn’t seemed to notice anything odd about me, such as the fact that I was rich.
I assembled the base of the chandelier, leafing off the fake crystals, and had set it on the floor when I heard someone singing.
I followed the voice and found a gorgeous brunette, dressed all in black and washing dishes.
“Excuse me,” I called.
She turned off the water and faced me.
I did a double take, and my heart flip-flopped. It took me a second to catch my breath. Something about her called to me.
She blinked. “Can I help you?”
“Is there a ladder?” I asked, though I wanted to ask her if she would marry me on the spot. That feeling had never hit me before, and I never would have expected how my hair stood on end.
She guided me to the garage and pointed to a six-foot A-frame ladder hung on the wall. I nodded, but before I could say thank you, she’d vanished.
I blinked, unsure if she was even real. I wasn’t paid to daydream, so I grabbed the ladder and headed back out.
Her soft singing shot electricity through my veins again at a higher voltage than I’d ever felt.
Once finished with the chandelier, I’d just packed up the empty box and the flush light that I’d removed from the ceiling when I heard the redhead screech, “You broke my vase.”
Beauty then said, “I’m so sorry.”
“Get your things, missy.”
I stood tall, as if I might protect her.
Beauty then asked, “You’re firing me?”
I glanced out the side of the open-concept doorway and into the kitchen, half-ready to jump in.
Mrs. Morris had her chin in the air. “Your lack of care for my things shows enough about you.”
Beauty put her hands together as if praying. “Please, I need—“
My heart twisted.
