She pushes the door open with one of those tight-lipped smiles that says,I hate your guts, but I’m pretending not to.Sandra’s one of those women who’s been Botoxed within an inch of her life—perfectly smooth forehead, sleek blonde bob that looks likeit’s been shellacked into place, and a wardrobe straight out of a power-suit catalog.
Today’s ensemble? A pencil skirt that screams “I’m better than you” and a blouse that’s way too white for someone who’s always in the dirt.
“Bella.” Her voice drips with faux sweetness, the kind that makes my skin crawl. “We need to talk.”
Oh, great. I lean back in my chair, arms crossed. “Sure. What’s up?”
She throws a set of keys onto my desk—literally tosses them. “I need you to drive out to Shadow Hill this Friday.”
Shadow Hill?
You’ve gotta be kidding me. The place is practically on the edge of nowhere.
“This Friday?” I raise an eyebrow.
Sandra shrugs, as if my personal life is just a footnote in the grand narrative of her empire. “Yes, this Friday. The property’s been sitting empty for five years. It’s finally going back on the market, and we need fresh photos for the listing.”
I stare at her, biting my tongue to keep from saying what I really want to say.Are you high on glue fumes or something? This is nuts!
Shadow Hill is a nightmare. The drive alone is two hours of winding roads through nothing but wilderness, and that’s before you get to the creepy-ass house that looks like it’s straight out of a horror movie.
“So,” I say, keeping my voice steady, “you want me to drive all the way to the middle of nowhere to take photos of a house that hasn’t had a human inhabitant in five years…” I give her a suspicious stare, like I’ll probably get murdered by whatever ghosts live there. I mentally stab her in the forehead with my pen and then twist for good measure.
Sandra’s lips curl into a smirk. “Yes, precisely. Oh, and don’t forget to check if the plumbing still works. We wouldn’t want any surprises for potential buyers.”
Check the plumbing?
I mentally upgrade the pen to a harpoon.
Is she out of her mind?
I roll my eyes up to the ceiling and back to my desk, trying to keep the frustration from bubbling over. “You know it’s my birthday, right?”
Sandra’s smile widens, as if she’s enjoying this. “I’mnotaware. But real estate doesn’t stop for birthdays, Bella. Besides, isn’t this what you’re good at? Handling the… undesirable tasks?”
Oh, so that’s what we’re calling it now? “Undesirable” is code forI’m jealous because you close deals faster than I can blink, and I need to keep you in line.
I force a smile. “Of course, Sandra. I’ll get right on that.”
“Good,” she says, already turning on her heel. “And don’t forget—those photos need to be perfect. We’ve got a buyer interested, and if we lose them because you were too busy celebrating your birthday… Well, I’m sure you understand.”
I watch her walk out of my office, the door slamming just a little too hard behind her.
Bitch.
2
Bella
Itap out a quick text to Sandra before heading out of the house.
I’ll be in the office after lunch. Got a few clients this morning.
Message read.No reply.
Thursday morning.And she’s still a bitch.
Now, halfway through my second latte, I spot Elena walking into The Bean, our go-to coffee spot. It’s one of those small places tucked between overpriced yoga studios and boho boutiques, with hipster baristas who look like they spend their free time curating vinyl records.
