I steppedin—boots still on. Let the marble floor feel it. White everywhere. Marble. Trim. Curtains. A mausoleum of wealth and bleach.
She turned, heels clicking like gunshots. “You will not bring your filth into this house,” she said. “Physically or otherwise.”
“Nice to see you too, Auntie V. Still doing Iron Maiden cosplay or is that just your resting vibe?”
She spun toward me, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. “You’re not here to be clever. You’re here because your parents are done embarrassing themselves with you.”
I let the words sit for a beat. “Wow. If I squint, that almost sounds like family.”
“I don’t do sentiment,” she said coldly. “I do control. And you’re under mine now.”
“Is this where you make me kiss your ring or just scrub the floors?”
“You’ll be working at the Brookhaven Ridge Country Club. Mr. Astor is expecting you.”
I snorted. “What, I’m a towel boy now? Maybe pass out cucumber water to guys named Preston?”
She didn’t dignify me with an answer. “Mr. Astor will assign your duties. You’ll report to him daily. And you will be polite. Or you will be gone.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No,” she stepped closer, voice low. “That’s a fact. You’re cut off. Financially, socially, and geographically. You have one pair of boots and a fast car. That’s it. You follow my rules, or you sleep in that car.”
I laughed, sharp and bitter. “You rich types love power plays. What, no collar to put around my neck?”
She snapped her fingers, and a housekeeper appeared like magic from a side hallway—tall, silent, eyes flicking over me like I was a particularly tricky stain.
“Ellen will show you to the pool house,” Victoria said. “You won’t be staying inside Edelwood.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Afraid I’ll get corruption on your fine bone china?”
“I don’t allow stray dogs in my house. You’ll use the side entrance, not the front. Meals will be taken separately unless I say otherwise. And don’t mistake this for some kind of summer retreat. You’re here to work. To disappear.”
I clutched my duffel tighter. “Crystal clear. It’s like a prison, just with better landscaping.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not worth the bars.” She turned and walked off without waiting for a response.
The housekeeper—Ellen—gave me a tight, professional nod. “This way, Mr. Sinclair.”
I followed her out the front door and down a side path. Past a rose garden, a greenhouse, and a gravel lane that led to a smaller, modern structure tucked beside a hedge wall.
The pool house was all white stucco and glass, cold and lifeless. She opened the door and handed me a key. “Linens are clean. Kitchenette’s stocked with the basics. Miss Clarence expects you to be dressed and punctual by seven forty-five a.m.”
I walked in without a word and dropped my bag on the couch, not asking for confirmation as to what she meant by “punctual by seven forty-five a.m.”Ellen didn’t wait around; the door clicked shut behind her like a cell locking in place.
The dive barsat like a bad decision incarnate, wedged between a bait shop and a half-lit gas station where the pumps looked like they hadn’t worked since the Reagan era. The neon sign buzzed overhead, spelling out“The Hollow”in sickly green letters that flickered like they were dying of shame.
Inside, it smelled like stale beer, sweat, and the kind of secrets people only confessed when blackout drunk. The floors stuck to my boots. The jukebox wheezed out a gritty version of“Gimme Shelter.”It was perfect.
I slid onto a cracked leather barstool like I owned the joint. Didn’t have to say a word. The bartender clocked me the second I walked in. Bleached-blonde, tattoos peeking from under a faded tank top, a septum ring that caught the low amber light. He looked like he could break a bottle over your head and still wink while doing it.
“Look what the devil dragged in,” he said, cocking a brow. “You got a name, or should I just write ‘trouble’ on the tab?”
“Sin,” I replied, leaning in with a grin. “Short for Sinclair. But you can call me whatever sounds good when you’re moaning.”
He snorted, not missing a beat. “Cute. You always hit on your bartender, or am I just lucky?”
“I like to make friends wherever I land. And I landhard.”
