“How did she even know?” he asked
That one was easy. I thought about it on the train on my way here.
“My mom mentioned it to her. Look, Vicious, they have nowhere to go. Your stepmom’s their only reference. They’ve lived and worked on your estate for ten years. What do I do? I’d fly to them, but the exhibition…I mean, I could. I would. It’s just…” I shook my head.
Vicious considered my words for a few seconds, looking down at his hands, before shooting me a resolute glare. “I’ll take the next flight to San Diego and sort it out.”
My eyes widened. “Didn’t you say you have something on Thursday?” It was already Tuesday afternoon, and no matter what his plans were, it was a long shot to make it in time for whatever it was he’d wanted to do by then.
He shrugged. “I’ll postpone my plans.”
“What were they?”
“Does it matter?”
I considered his question for a second. Did I have any right to ask him what he was doing? No, seeing as I kept pushing him away, not even giving him the chance to explain himself to me for five minutes.
I shook my head. “Thank you. Can you keep me posted?”
He arched an eyebrow, which I imagined meant “what the fuck do you think?” and strode to his glass desk.
Being back in office reminded me that not long ago, we were different. For a fraction of a second, we were together, and it had felt divine. Not nice. Not safe. Not taken for granted. It was short and beautiful and painfully memorable. Like the tree I was obsessed with.
“Anything else?” He fell into his executive chair and didn’t try begging for more of my time. He pressed a finger to his intercom. “Sue, book me the earliest flight to San Diego and get me my turkey and cranberry sandwich. Also, for fuck’s sake, tell the girl at the reception to stop sending me “Have a Good Day” cards. We all know my days are shitty because this city is a motherfucking downer.”
He hung up the phone and tilted his head back to me. “You’re still here. Do you want your PA job back?”
I shook my head quickly. “I’m just not sure how you can be both nice and compassionate and a terrible ass*ole all at the same time,” I muttered.
He smiled. “It’s a hard job, but someone’s gotta do it.”
IT WAS TIME I CAME face to face with Jo.
I needed to. Not because of closure or to talk about it or some psychological bullshit, but because I needed to deal with what she’d done. She’d tricked my father. She’d sent her brother to kill my mother. And now she’d revealed her true, shitty personality again by firing Emilia’s folks.
This had to stop.
It had to stop a long time ago, but now I didn’t have time to stew in my anger for her anymore. I had to act.
My plan wasn’t sophisticated. It wasn’t brilliant. It was actually borderline stupid. But it was the only one I had at this point.
I hoped Jo wasn’t there when I got to town, because it would’ve made things a lot easier, but I knew that more than likely, she was there and waiting for me.
The flight to San Diego passed quickly. I had so much shit to catch up on, seeing as I’d slept through the majority of the day two days ago—hence my lateness to Emilia’s commute home. At least I saw the complete and utter relief on her face when I finally made it, albeit ten minutes late when she was already at the door.
Our private driver, Cliff, was no longer at my disposal, seeing as my father no longer owned the car, so I took a cab to Todos Santos and called Dean on my way there. We were still cold to each other, but being the new majority shareholder of FHH—something neither Jaime nor Trent liked one bit—had made Dean fucking agreeable for a change. He was no longer falsely heartbroken over his ex-girlfriend, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he actually loved the LA life.
“Where’s a good Mexican place to eat in this city?” he muttered when he picked up the phone, then yawned. It was seven in the morning. Jesus fuck.
“Pink Taco. Listen, I need a favor.”
“Another one?” Dean groaned.
I could practically hear him rolling his eyes on the other end of the line, and it grated on my nerves. I could also practically hear another woman in my bed moaning for him to lower his voice.
And then another one.
Two. Goddammit, Dean.
“Spit it out.” He sighed.
“I’ll be at your place tonight, ten or later. We’ll party all night. You’re throwing a big-ass party at my condo, and you must invite a ton of people. I’m talking at least fifty.”
“And why the fuck?”
“Dean,” I warned. I hated it when he asked questions. He never asked the right ones. “Just do it.”
“Fine, asswipe.”
I hung up the phone just as I entered the estate. The codes were the same. Jo hadn’t bothered changing them for some reason. She didn’t think I’d come back. Naturally. She didn’t know I was privy to what they did to my mom. I think she just assumed I hated her because she was competition. Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t the truth.
My first stop was at Emilia’s parents at the servants’ apartment. I knocked on their door and walked right in. They were packing. Her mom, Charlene, shoved their tacky tablecloths and family pictures into a box while her dad swept the floor. Like fucking Jo deserved them cleaning their house before they left.
“You need to come with me,” I told them. I didn’t ask them how they were doing because the answer was fucking obvious, and I didn’t offer my apology because it wasn’t my fault Josephine was a nasty piece of work. Instead, I offered solutions. Fast ones. “I booked you a room at a hotel and rented a space for your stuff in a self-storage warehouse outside of town. Come on, the taxi’s waiting.”
Emilia’s mom was the first to react to me. She stopped what she was doing, walked silently to where I stood and slapped me across the face. Hard. I guess she did what both her daughters tried to at some point, so I had this coming.
I cocked my head to the side and watched her. Tears streamed down her face freely. Such a change from Emilia, who always held back. Even though Emilia looked like a young Jo, she looked nothing like either of her parents.
Charlene looked tired and worn out.
“What have you done to my daughter?” Her voice shook.
I looked her in the eye. “I did to her exactly what she did to me, but I promise you, I will take care of her from now on. That is, if she’ll let me.”
It was Emilia’s father’s turn to join the conversation, and my heart stopped when I watched him walking over to me. I’d never cared what any girl’s parents thought about me. Ever. But there was something about this guy that made me want to beg him to give me a second chance.
His brows were furrowed and his eyes twitched. “I never liked you,” he said simply.
I nodded. “Can’t blame you.”