Page 41 of Rebel Revenge

My phone buzzed with an incoming message right as I sat myself on a stool during the lunch rush at Psychos.

Unknown number

I’ve been patient, but I have a business to run, and you’re months behind on the rent. You have forty-eight hours to move your stuff or I’m sending in a crew to do it for you.

A second later, another text came in.

Unknown number

This is Wes. Your landlord.

Yeah. Like I hadn’t worked that out from the rest of the message.

Getting thrown out of my place was just the cherry on top of what had already been a shit spectacular of a morning. I hadn’t even had a chance to call Liam and ask him about Bart’s will when another email from the lawyer hit my inbox, stating Vaughn was contesting me receiving anything. I just stared at my phone in disbelief. It was a harbinger of bad news today.

“What’s wrong?” Nash peered over at my screen while pulling a beer for a regular. He placed it down on the countertop, a little of the froth spilling over onto his fingers. He wiped at it with a cloth before taking the cash from the man waiting for his drink.

If I told him about the housing situation, he’d try to fix it for me. I had too much pride for that. So I went with the legal situation instead. “I got an email from a lawyer saying Bart’s son is contesting the will. Predictably, rich boy doesn’t want me getting a dime of his money. Fuck him. I don’t want it anyway.”

Vincent, who was supposed to be working as the club’s bouncer, leaned his folded arms on the countertop with interest. “How much money is in question?”

I shrugged. “Vaughn said multi-millions.”

Nash coughed and spluttered, “Excuse me? Multi millions?”

“What, like it’s a lot?” I joked. Though of course it was. Nash and I were Saint View hood rats who barely had two nickels to rub together. Vincent was better off, and he, Nash, War, and Bliss all lived in one of his family’s big houses, but I didn’t think they were multimillionaires either. It was a lot of money no matter who you talked to.

“You are not just walking away from that, Rebel,” Bliss declared, wiping out a glass.

“I don’t know. It’s not my family fortune. Maybe he’s right to be pissed. I probably would be too.”

“He can be pissed all he wants, but his dad and your mom obviously wanted you to have that money, or they wouldn’t have put your name in the will. They want you to be looked after.” Bliss shoved her hands on her ample hips and pinned me with a matter-of-fact glare, just daring me to argue back.

I’d give anything for curves like hers, but I was stuck with my runty tomboy look. “Okay, fine. Hypothetically, though, what do I do? This email says he’s putting the house on the market as of the end of the week. He’s not even giving me a chance.”

“He can’t do that,” Nash argued.

“I think we all know that a bartender from Saint View without a cent to her name hasn’t got much power against a wealthy businessman with his daddy’s money and lawyers to back him up. He’ll probably have the place sold before I can even hire a lawyer. And look,” I wailed, scrolling through the photo app on my phone, selecting the one I wanted and then flashing it at them. It showed off the sprawling two-story mansion’s gabled roof and painted shutters. A wide verandah on the ground level made me want to buy a porch swing where I could sit curled up and watch the world go by. Or something equally romantic. “I scoped out the place on Street View, and it’s my dream house.”

Vincent crinkled his nose. “It looks haunted.”

I slapped his solid arm. “Stop. It’s beautiful and charming. Old, yes. But I love it. It has personality. Not to mention the fact my apartment could probably fit in just one bedroom of that place. Think of the parties we could have there.”

Bliss raised an eyebrow. “Because we throw keggers and invite the entire football team on a regular basis? The only parties we ever throw are here and of the sexy variety.”

I side-eyed her. “We could try having more of a life.”

“Tell that to my all-day sickness.”

“Halloween is coming up. You’ll be well into the second trimester then, right? You should be feeling better. We could throw an amazing party at this house.”

Bliss stared at the beautiful house in the photo. “It is a lot nicer than your apartment. You need to fight for it.”

I ran my finger over the image on the screen. “Imagine being such an entitled twat that you would even consider selling a house like that. He has more money than sense.”

“Agreed,” Bliss announced. “We hate him.”

I nodded, ignoring the memory of the chemistry sparking between me and Vaughn, before there’d been a will to get his knickers in a twist. I went back to the email and sighed. Vaughn’s phone number was listed as a contact in the details section of the front page.

---