1. Chapter 1
1
Bella
Two weeks ago
M y phone buzzes just as I hit send on the final offer.
Bam. I’m the queen of real estate. Long live the queen.
That’s it.
I’ve officially flipped another house, and if there were a trophy for “Best in Show” in real estate, it would be mine. I smirk, sinking back into my chair, phone still buzzing like it knows this is a victory call.
I glance at the screen. Of course, it’s Elena.
“Guess who just made another deal?” I say, not even waiting for a greeting.
“Let me guess,” she starts. “It’s the person who just stole the joy from every other agent in Big Sur? Congrats, babe.”
“What can I say? I’m a menace in what I do. What are you doing right now?”
“Oh, you know, just googling ‘how to be half as good as Isabella Marquez’ while I sip this overpriced green juice. But more importantly— guess what gurl ?”
“You found a new victim for your dating app obsession?”
“No. But good guess. I’ve planned your 29th birthday celebration.”
My eyebrows shoot up. I nearly forgot my birthday is this Friday. Also Valentine’s Day. Ugh. Could there be a worse combination?
Birthday? Fine. But on the same day as this overly romantic, commercialized nightmare? It’s like being forced to share a day with couples flaunting their happiness and hearts everywhere. I hate it.
Absentmindedly, I twirl the pen in my hand, then lower it to the notepad in front of me. The tip drags across the page, and before I know it, I’m scribbling out a lopsided drawing of… a poo emoji.
How fitting.
“Oh? And what’s the plan? Wine, tapas, maybe a little beachside dancing?”
Elena snickers. “ Nope. Even better. We’re going to The Crimson Room .”
“The what now?” I roll my eyes but can’t help the grin tugging at my lips. With Elena, it could be anything from a circus tent to a 90s-themed rave.
“It’s a BDSM dungeon, obviously.” She says this so casually, like it’s the kind of thing normal people say on a Wednesday afternoon.
I burst out laughing. “ Obviously . As if I spend my Friday nights shopping for whips and chains.”
“Well, now you’ll get the chance. C’mon, Bella. You need this. You’ve been working like a machine, closing deals left and right. It’s been what? Ten years of you duking it out in court with those evil relatives of yours?”
I lean back in my chair, trying to remember the last time I did something that didn’t involve a court hearing or a closing contract. And she’s right—it’s been a while. A long while.
I exhale a long, frustrated sigh into the phone as I keep the phone glued to my ear.
“Look, you’ve been fighting like a gladiator—juggling Julian and Lila, court, work—you deserve a break. A real break. You need to feel human again, babe. Besides, sex gives you those happy hormones, you know? Endorphins. Serotonin. Whatever other ‘ ins’ that help keep you from going full Terminator on the world.” Elene’s voice takes a jog up the mountain. “You deserve to celebrate in a place that reminds you that you’re human.”
I laugh. “A BDSM dungeon reminds me I’m human?”
“Exactly. Think of it like a really weird spa day. You walk in tense , leave… well, not tense.”
I snort. “I think you’re confusing a spa with something entirely different.”
Elena’s laugh bubbles through the phone. “Okay, okay. Maybe a little different, but it’s all for the experience! Plus, I hear the bartender makes an amazing tequila sunrise.”
“Tequila at a dungeon?”
“Girl, it’s basically a speakeasy with leather.”
I can’t stop smiling. Elena’s voice is like a shot of serotonin after a long day of dealing with entitled sellers. She always knows how to get me out of my head and into something… questionable.
“So you’re saying we’re going to celebrate my birthday by letting people get whipped while we sip cocktails?”
Elena squeals with excitement. “Yes! You’re catching on. This is why we’re best friends.”
I laugh. “You’ve officially lost your mind.”
“Come on, Bella, what else are you going to do? Go home and cuddle with your latest contract? You need this. We’ll even get a VIP booth, so we can be voyeurs with class.”
“Oh, well, if we’re watching from the classy section…”
“Exactly. Picture this: you, me, leather couches, hot bartenders, and a bunch of consenting adults being freaky while we toast to your success.”
I lean back in my chair, shaking my head. “ Fine . But if I see anything I can’t unsee, I’m sending the therapy bill your way.”
Elena cackles. “Deal. See you at seven on Friday. Wear something that screams, ‘I make six figures and could still ruin your life.’”
“That’s my usual vibe.”
“You’re gonna love this, Bella. Trust me.”
“Love ya , babe, but I gotta go.” I hang up the phone with Elena, still smiling as I stare at my screen. Tequila at a BDSM dungeon? Really? I’ll think of an excuse to bail, as usual. It’s not like I don’t appreciate her planning something for my birthday, but I’d rather spend it curled up with Netflix and a pizza, far away from leather and chains.
I tap my pen against my desk, mentally running through my to-do list, when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye.
Ugh, no.
It’s her. Sandra, my boss—or should I say, the woman whose mission in life seems to be making mine miserable.
Sandra strides toward my office, her stilettos make a sound like a cat scratching its claws on a chalkboard.
She doesn’t knock. Of course not. Why would the queen of condescension bother with basic manners?
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 like it’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’m not aware. 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 for I’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.