Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Darcy
M y lukewarm shower water was stifling hot compared to Sebastian Aster’s icy gaze and conversation. People like to throw around the term Ice Queen , but this man was the Ice King. He was cold, aloof, and unreadable, instantly making a person feel like a gnat in his presence.
Thank God I didn’t care how he felt about me or my family. The guy came from old money, so he and I would never see eye-to-eye or have anything in common. We were worlds apart, and I planned to keep it that way, but it also excited me to learn more about him for my write-up about him and his family.
The best part was that there wasn’t anything he could do to hurt my feelings, and there was no worry about possibly falling for the man because there was nothing to fall for. Sure, he was good-looking, but since I wasn’t attracted to money, power suits, and a shitty, humorless personality, any love connection possibility with that ball of joy was off the table.
I casually entered the kitchen, searching for Antonio’s unrivaled guacamole and homemade chips.
“A margarita for you, Se?orita,” he said with his dimpled grin, his silver hair shimmering under the kitchen’s lights.
The kitchen was framed by brick ovens and plastered walls painted yellow to complement the terra cotta tile floors placed throughout all parts of the home, even out to the central patio area. There was a huge center island where Antonio prepared all the meals, and Ines would make her mouth-watering arepas and empanadas. Bronze pots and pans hung on a ceiling rack, and mariachi music always played just loud enough for Antonio to sing along.
The kitchen was as charming as the rest of the house. It was open and airy, with numerous outdoor access points throughout the lower floors to the exterior of the courtyard. It had this fantastic charm that reminded me of the Spanish Missions which were older than California. It was a gorgeous, warm, happy place, and I loved living here. I didn’t care who Sebastian Aster was or where he came from; there was no way the Ice King could resist this old-world charm.
“We’re taking dinner out by the pool on the new terrace,” my mom said as she entered the kitchen, a bit more frazzled than I’d ever seen her.
“Why? We always eat dinner in the sunroom,” I said, pointing over my shoulder with my thumb toward the enclosed patio area.
The sunroom was at the center of this part of the home, with white plastered walls and large fireplaces on each end. The length of the room was lined with numerous sliding glass doors that opened all the way up to bring in the cool breezes of the Saratoga Valley. It was the most comfortable part of the home. It felt like you were outside while eating, and the rustic, rectangular dark oak table stretched the length of the room with matching wood chairs set the mood perfectly.
“Not tonight. Your dad mentioned something about Mr. Aster having plans to remodel the upper rooms on the east side of the home,” she said. She was smiling, but I could sense the hurt playing in her eyes and on her features.
“Hold up,” I said, grabbing a handful of warm tortilla chips from a basket that Antonio quietly handed me. “Did you just say remodel ?”
“Yes, and,” she looked at Antonio, “we’ll just be doing the Carne Asada. Were you able to get the tequila that Billy requested for Mr. Aster?”
I narrowed my eyes while I watched my mom turn into a woman I didn’t know, making requests and bending to accommodate a certain dickhead who showed up a couple of hours ago.
“Yes, Se?ora. The delivery came about an hour ago, and we have the twenty-four bottles of Komos Extra Anejo.” He said it with a smile, but I could tell the man was refraining from rolling his eyes at the request. “Forgive me for asking,” he said somewhat timidly, and I continued to study this interaction of nonsense and crunch on chips as if I were eating popcorn in a movie theater, “but were you and Se?or Burke expecting to pay twelve thousand dollars for the tequila?”
I nearly inhaled the chip I choked on, shocked at what Antonio just said about the price of the special tequila ordered for the Ice King. I reached for the water that Antonio handed me as if he had anticipated my shocked response.
“What the hell did you just say?” I said while Mom nodded in defeat. “Who spends that kind of money on tequila?”
“Mr. Aster requested it,” my mom said sternly. “And you better find your place in his presence, too, young lady.”
“Oh, don’t you dare start pulling that shit on me, Mom,” I countered. “I know you better than this. I’m sorry if I’m being disrespectful, but my disrespect pales in comparison to a man who thinks he can waltz into our home talking about remodeling and insisting on outrageously expensive tequila.”
“That man is practically our boss now. Please, Darcy,” she begged with her eyes, “do not make this difficult. He is the key to keeping our home and the winery, and we want him to be as comfortable as possible while we transition with the new owners.”
I glanced at Antonio, rolled my eyes, then looked back at my mother with tight lips. I inhaled deeply to prevent any further outbursts about this ludicrous baby-the-billionaire bullshit and exhaled with a fake smile. “Fine. So, what about this remodel stuff? What’s going on there? There’s a reason we have never remodeled any part of this home, and that’s because we love its charm and originality.”
“Again, Mr. Aster has requested to have the eastern portion of the home, where he prefers to stay, updated and possibly remodeled for his comfort while he is with us. He wishes to review the ideas with me tonight while we have cocktails before dinner.”
“Eastern side of the home, eh? I thought he was staying on the western side where I am?”
She shrugged embarrassingly, “Turns out he doesn’t want the distraction of my beautiful daughter while he works for the next months to bring the winery up to par.”
I narrowed my eyes at her and offered a challenging grin. “Is that so?” I questioned, knowing Sebastian Aster wanted to be as far away from me as possible, and it had nothing to do with my beauty.
“I will have the cocktails served in ten minutes, Se?ora,” Antonio proclaimed. “Mr. Aster requested them at that time.”
“Is there anything else Mr. Aster has requested?” I said sarcastically to Antonio. “Perhaps you can rope one of the cows really quick and butcher it fresh for the carne asada?”
“That won’t be necessary,” a low, icy voice said smoothly from behind where I stood.
I turned without any fear to meet the man’s steely gaze. “You sure?” I questioned with as much irritation in my voice as I’d heard in his.
“Quite sure,” he said.
Our eyes locked. People talk about eyes being a gateway to the soul, but I saw nothing in his. This man was dark, deep, and broody, with no humor or hope of a personality. He was nothing but a suit.
So gross.
“Well, good, because I was getting a bit concerned after you requested a remodel and twelve thousand dollars of?—”
“That’s enough,” my mother snapped at me. She looked at the man, who was trying to do the whole if looks could kill thing as if I was intimidated by his pompous ass. “Please forgive my daughter, she?—”
“Nothing to forgive,” he looked at my mother, his expression softening. “I’m not offended in the slightest. Now, where are we taking cocktails? I’m ready to present you with what my designers returned to me for the remodel.”
“Over here,” my mom said, ignoring me, gathering her bright orange silk tunic and leading him toward the stone pathway that led through large trees where the pool area was.
I watched the stiff dickhead follow her without another glance back at me, and then I turned to Antonio.
“I should apologize for my parents allowing that man to stay here. Our lives will likely be hell the entire time he’s here, Antonio,” I said, exhaling in annoyance.
“Do not apologize, Darcita. I am not offended in the slightest,” he winked as he mocked Sebastian’s stupid remark.
“Well, that makes two of you, eh?” I said. “Because I sure as fuck am.”
“I can tell,” Antonio chuckled. “However, you can only be offended if you allow someone’s personal opinions or habits to affect you.”
“Basically, you’re saying I’m weak,” I chuckled, piling salsa onto a chip. “But here’s the thing,” I popped the chip in my mouth, chewed, and swallowed before I continued, “I’m not offended over the man’s opinions. I’m offended because I think it’s fucking rude to go to someone’s house and make ridiculous demands for them to accommodate your spoiled-rotten needs.”
“Perhaps you are correct,” he answered. “The difference is that Mr. Aster is not simply a guest in this home. He pretty much owns it and us due to the financial agreements made when he and Mr. Mitchell bought into the winery.”
“That’s what it seems you’re all missing,” I said with a raised eyebrow. “He co-owns the winery, not us , and if he wants all these luxurious things, he needs to pay for it, not us.”
“That is none of my business,” Antonio answered casually.
Antonio was a solid, intelligent, reliable dude, and that’s why I enjoyed talking to him, especially right now. He was like a favorite uncle. He and Dad had spent many late nights drinking tequila—a regular, normal human being tequila—and talking about everything, becoming as close as brothers. He was much more than some employee. He was a part of our family, and this affected him too.
“Fine, okay. I’ll stop,” I smiled and grabbed the second batch of chips to come out of the deep fryer. “Wish me luck. I’ll try to keep my mouth shut and let this man talk his way through everything while I take mental notes on him for my article. Shit, by the time I’m done—and he’s done—exposing the bastard he is, I don’t think there’ll be a woman on the planet who’d want to date his eligible bachelor ass.”
“You’ll be surprised at what people will sacrifice for money,” Antonio said, pulling out the margarita blender.
“Well, from how the guy looks, they’re probably lining up to sell their souls to the devil.”
“And there you have your answer,” he chuckled. “Now, go save your mother before the man asks for a remodel of my cocina.”
“Not willing to sell your soul for a brand-new kitchen, eh?” I questioned with a laugh.
“Never. El Diablo will never take my soul or my kitchen, Se?orita,” he nodded toward the open breezeway where my mom and Sebastian Aster had exited moments ago.
“Well, if I don’t get my parents under control by adhering to El Diablo’s demands, then you’ll be cooking in a brand-new sterile kitchen with white cabinets and stainless-steel appliances.”
I laughed at Antonio’s fake-annoyed expression and then headed out to the patio by the pool, where my mom was probably elbow-deep in the complete renovation of her home. She was most likely accommodating the man with gold toilets, porcelain bathtubs, handmaids, massage technicians, and a personal ass-wiping assistant—all the things he probably left behind in New York, where he belonged.