“You can study tomorrow.”
“I have to work until four and then I told my dad I’d help clean the house. He’s calling me about something. I have to go, but I’ll see you at seven,” she says before ending the call.
If my father found out Ella’s coming here, he’d be pissed. He hates her dad for refusing to sell his house. It does bring down the look of the neighborhood, but if it bothers him that much, he should’ve bought a house on a different street, or stayed at our old one, the house I actually liked.
At seven sharp, Ella shows up. I knew she’d be the first one here. She’s probably never late. I’m usually not either, but only because my father drilled in my head long ago that being late gives a bad impression that could last for years and kill any chance for a business relationship. This included being late to social gatherings since even friends could be potential clients if you play your cards right. My father doesn’t actually have friends. He has potential clients. That’s what he calls his friends.
“Come on in,” I step aside, letting her into the foyer.
She looks up at the high ceiling. It’s over twenty feet tall and has a black metal light fixture hanging down from it. The old house had a crystal chandelier, which my dad hated. His decor style is metal and dark wood.
“We’re meeting in the living room,” I say, waiting for her to follow me.
She’s still staring at the ceiling, so I take the opportunity to look at her. She’s wearing denim cutoffs with a white tank and an orange plaid shirt over it, left unbuttoned. She probably just threw those clothes on, not thinking they were anything sexy, but damn, it’s got me thinking dirty thoughts again, like how I’d like to slide my hand under the hem of those shorts, or yank down that tank and feel those perfect tits.
“I’ve never been in a house like this,” Ella says, her gaze slowly lowering to the rest of the foyer.
“You want a tour?”
“Don’t we have to wait for the guys?”
“They’ll let themselves in. And they probably won’t be here for another ten minutes. Maybe a half hour. They’re never on time.” I walk to the hall. “Follow me.”
I show her the kitchen, which is all white with high-end, stainless-steel appliances that never get used. My dad and I do our own thing for meals, which usually means takeout for me and going to fancy restaurants for him.
“This kitchen is huge,” Ella says, opening the oversized fridge. “You guys don’t have any food in here.”
“There should be some leftover Chinese food.” I meet her by the fridge. “Right there.” I take out the container. “You want it?”
“I already had dinner.”
I put the food away and shut the fridge.
“The garage is out there.” I point to it. “And the hallway next to it goes to the laundry room.”
“Where does that go?” She points to the back door.
“The pool and the patio. There’s also a guest house out there but my dad’s talking about tearing it down and replacing it with an office.” I walk back to the hall, with Ella right behind me.
“Isn’t there an office already in the house?”
“Yes, but he wants another one for his assistant for when he works from home.”
“How often does he work from home?”
“All the time. He goes to the office during the day and then works again when he gets home, unless he’s out having dinner with clients. That’s where he is tonight. He’ll probably be home late.” I open the door to the dining room. “This is where he has client dinners.”
Ella pokes her head in the room. “You guys don’t eat in there?”
“We don’t eat meals together.”
“What about when your mom lived here?”
“She never lived here. She lived in the old house.”
“But did you guys have dinner together?”
“Only at holidays. I usually ate in my room or sometimes in the kitchen in front of the TV.”
