As soon as I finish reading the three-page document, Seth sets his mug down. “Do you have any questions, Mr. Davenport?”
“A few, yes.’ I nod quickly. “So, I’m meant to get a job—”
“And keep it.”
“Find a home to rent and become completely self-sufficient… What exactly does that include?”
“Taking on all the responsibilities of a normal adult human being. Shopping for groceries, cooking, cleaning, laundry, arriving at work on time, staying for your entire shift, paying bills on time…” he answers with just a hint of a smirk. Damn him. He’s enjoying this. “It’s all laid out in Appendix C.”
“Yes, I realize that. Can’t I just—?”
“No. You may not live here with your brother.”
“But how will I pay for my own house?”
“Your father will front you $500, but it will be given to Ms. Fita. When you find suitable accommodation, that will cover your deposit. You will have exactly six weeks to pay him back.”
I glance at her. Still no smiles coming from her direction. She’s taken her sunglasses off, and her cold, dark eyes are quite frankly a little terrifying. Looking back at Seth, I fold my arms. “So is she my new nanny or something? Because I am twenty-seven years old, you know.”
Ms. Fita snorts. “I’m no nanny. I’m a retired parole officer who is being paid to follow your every move for the next six months.”
“Ms. Fita comes highly recommended by the San Filipe chief of police. She’s considered the best PI on the island.”
“That’s right. I am,” she says. “And I have a large network of people who will report your every move to me. You won’t even be able to pass gas without me knowing about it.”
Giving her my winning smile, I say, “You’ll find I’m not a gassy person.”
Seriously? The winning smile doesn’t even work on her? It reduces most women to fits of giggles. All right, new tactic. I blow out a long breath. “I am truly sorry for the trouble I’ve caused my father. There’s no excuse for how I’ve behaved, and I very much want to make everything right.” Holding up one hand, I add, “I solemnly swear to stay on the straight and narrow from now on. No more partying, loafing around, or poorly thought-through sexual relations with any members of any of the royal families. I’ll figure out a career path and get right on it, I promise. So you see? No need for this legally binding contract or my very own parole officer—as lovely as I’m sure you are,” I say, glancing at Ms. Fita. “Reallynot necessary. Not now that I am voluntarily giving up the shenanigans.”
“Your father is in no mood to let you off the hook this time. You either agree to the terms and conditions and you sign the contract, or you will be permanently disinherited as set out by the terms in paragraph four on page two.”
My stomach lurches. Permanent is a bloody long time. But if I sign this, I’ll have no dignity left whatsoever. Talk about a Sophie’s choice situation. A sense of indignant anger builds in my veins. “Really, I mean, whose father insists on putting these types of restrictions in place fortheir own son? Opening a bank account and providing monthly statements of all earnings and expenditures? Cookingandcleaning? One would be more than enough for me to learn my lesson, don’t you think? Submitting to random drug and alcohol testing? It’s not like I’m some sort of addict or con man. A little lazy and rather fond of women, yes, but I’m not acriminal.”
Seth glances at his watch. “I’m due at the airport in exactly forty-two minutes, so you have thirty seconds to make your decision.”
“Thirty seconds? No. This is insanity,” I say, raising my voice. “I’m not signing that. You can go back home and tell him to return with a more reasonable offer.”
“Twenty seconds.”
“You can’t expect me to make a decision like this in under a minute.”
“Fifteen.” Dammit. He’s not kidding.
“Five.”
Fuck.
I pick up the pen, sign, and hand him the agreement. He snags the pen out of my hand and puts the papers in his briefcase, then slides a copy of it to me. Snapping his briefcase shut with a loud click, Seth gives me a smug smile. “Good luck, Leopold. You’re going to need it.”
CHAPTER 4
Tools Come in All Shapes and Sizes
Brianna
We’re exactly twenty minutes late when we pull up in front of the Hammers’ house. Yes, their last name is Hammer, which I secretly find hilarious for many reasons, including but not limited to: A) they own a demolition company, and B) because Amber is changing her name and will forevermore be known as Amber Hammer, which sounds like a really strong cleaning product. Either that or a female wrestler in the WWE. But don’t tell anyone I said that, because it would gut her.
I take Isabelle’s hand and start up the long sidewalk, following the bright-yellow signs that inform guests to come directly to the back and let the party begin. “Make sure you say please and thank you, and if you don’t like the food someone offers you, don’t wrinkle up your nose and say yuck. Simply say thank you, but that’s not my favourite.”
