She goes from pissed to shocked. Then, her brown eyes glint in the predatory way all three of her sons’ do. “Which Constantine, love?”
Love?
Ack.
“Um, Winston.”
She gasps, her lashes fluttering. “CEO of Halcyon. That Constantine?”
“Yeah. Is that bad?”
“Heavens no, sweetie. That’s wonderful.”
Sweetie?
Gross.
“Great. I’m going to go now. He’s sending a car to pick me up.”
She clacks my way, her heels echoing loudly at her approach. Much like my mother used to, she strokes my hair in an affectionate way. “I don’t think I have to explain to you what an important job this is. The Constantines are an extremely difficult family to get in with. This position you’ve somehow procured elevates our family status. It’s imperative you don’t mess this up for us.”
Don’t worry, Manda the Maneater, I’m a pro at gagging on breadsticks, just like the boss man loves.
“I’ll do my best,” I grumble.
She inspects me closely, no doubt cataloging all my imperfections as though she might get to fix them one day. “See Erin at the spa as soon as possible. Tell her to give you the full treatment and to put it on my tab.”
No, thank you, lady.
“I’ll check my schedule. Mr. Constantine is very demanding of my time.”
Her brown eyes gleam with hunger. “That’s fabulous, love. Demanding means he enjoys the work you do for him. Perhaps a romance could brew. If not with the eldest Constantine, there’s always the younger ones. Maybe Perry. He’s quite a looker himself and near your age. See this as an opportunity for your future. At this rate, you won’t even need college.”
I’d love to tell her I’m not some gold digger after the Constantine treasure, but that’s a total lie. He pays me for strange things, and I gladly take his money.
“What about college?” Dad’s voice booms as he enters the foyer from the living room.
He’s polished and put together wearing an expensive suit I’ve never seen on him before. The grays at his temples have been dyed to match the chocolate brown on the rest of his head, and he now has a neat, trim beard, because Manda likes him with a little facial hair. Some days, I don’t recognize this version of my father.
“We were discussing,” Manda purrs as she steps into his arms and grins up at him, “how successful Ash will be no matter what avenue she takes for her career.”
Dad smiles at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling in an old, familiar way that makes my chest squeeze. “That’s my girl.”
I glance out the window, noticing a sleek black Mercedes waiting. “Oh, that’s my ride. Talk soon.” I give Dad a quick kiss on the cheek before rushing out the door.
Manda follows me out of the house, practically thrumming with excitement. I’m aggravated at how she’s suddenly my best friend. I suppose if I’m in good with the Constantines, Manda will become more popular within the elite crowd by default. I always knew she was a status climber, which surprised the hell out of me when she started dating my father.
He was poor in her eyes.
Unworthy.
A single father.
I cringe to think it could be true love. Dad only truly loved Mom. There’s no way he can love Manda. I think she decided to slum it because Dad is incredibly handsome. Most rich guys are dweebs. Aside from Winston, I haven’t seen too many hot rich men.
“Good evening, miss,” a suited man greets when I approach the Mercedes.
He loads my things into the trunk and then sits Shrimp’s birdcage in the backseat. I climb up front with the man rather than in the back. I notice the flash of displeasure on his face, but he doesn’t argue. The ride over to Winston’s is introspective as I wonder if I’ve just willingly crawled into the alligator’s mouth. Only time will tell.
I pace the guest room, checking the time again. When I’d agreed to meet here and go out with Winston, I didn’t realize that meant waiting until nine in the evening. Francis brought me dinner, and I ate alone. The loneliness annoys me.
Maybe Winston will be a no-show. I can take off this dress, wash off my makeup, and go home.
Shrimp sings at the top of his lungs from the living room. He loves the giant windows and has taken to flying back and forth in the huge space, only stopping to rest occasionally on the massive light fixture.
I rush into the living room, interested to see what has him in such a tizzy. As soon as I enter the room, I know exactly why.
Winston Constantine.
He stands under his light, staring up at Shrimp, shaking his head. Apprehension crawls down my spine. I don’t like that he seems unhappy already about Shrimp.
“He doesn’t get to fly around much,” I explain. “He’ll calm down. He’s just really happy.”