Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Sebastian
I walked Tina through the plans to renovate the entire eastern portion of the home, where I would reside once it was complete. Thank God I’d managed to secure the best designer. The materials would be delivered next week for a simple makeover of the three rooms I planned to turn into one large suite, and she and her husband could enjoy it once my job here was completed.
I still thought this was some wild joke delivered to my father by James Mitchell for what my parents had done to fuck with Jim’s hospital. What else could it be? I was shocked Jim would give this place a second of his attention, much less taste the wine.
I’d met Mr. Mitchell a handful of times at events, and he was not a man who played games, so I wasn’t sure what to make of this circus I’d been thrown into. One thing I could promise, however, was that while I might’ve been in the middle of a circus, I was no one’s dancing monkey.
“This renovation will be completed in less than a month. The crew will get to work next week once everything meets with your approval,” I said, watching Tina stare with wide eyes at the updated and gorgeous version of a Spanish-style dream home.
“There’s nothing I don’t love about this,” she answered, hand over her heart. “You’ve stayed true to the beauty of the home’s style and everything we love so much about this place.”
I nodded, “So, then it does agree with you? Excellent. I will make a couple of calls, and the crew will be here?—”
“It agrees with her, but not me,” I heard the pretty little ray of smartass sunshine say from my side.
I turned and saw her silky blonde hair shimmering in its layers beneath the late afternoon sun. Her full breasts bounced slightly under her white cotton top as she approached, and her long, toned, and tan legs were accentuated by the wedge sandals she wore with a short denim skirt. The sight of her was almost?—
Wait, what did she say? What was this woman’s problem with me?
“Why wouldn’t this agree with you?” I questioned, completely confused by her objection to a makeover of this hovel.
She was one of those smoking-hot women that most men would gawk at when she walked by because she looked like a sun goddess. Granted, she was dressed like she belonged on a beach for co-ed spring break, but she didn’t seem the type who looked classless enough to like hardwater-stained toilets.
“Because,” she arched an eyebrow at me and then reached in front of me to pull my iPad away from her mother.
My mind blanked for a moment when the aroma of coconuts and strawberries collided with my black-and-white train of thought, giving me visions of a tropical destination for a split second.
Jesus Christ, I thought, feeling like I’d betrayed my late wife by having a beautiful thought enter my dark world for the first time in over a year.
“All of this will be loud and obnoxious, and for how long?” she questioned me as if I were a child and not a powerful man.
“At least a month, two months tops,” I answered, trying to gather my senses.
“That’s not going to work for me.”
I grew defensive, “Well, the current living arrangements do not work for me.”
“Why not?” she demanded, piercing blue eyes peering into mine.
I would not be bewitched by a woman’s fragrance or her beauty. So, the spell Miss California was trying to place me under would not work. I was intelligent, powerful, and mostly miserable, and I preferred that over succumbing to the charms of a golden beach goddess.
“Because I need it quiet to work,” I said. “I prefer to be isolated when I retreat to my room. Unfortunately, I can’t do that while sharing the floor with you. I was told there would be a suite of rooms and an entire wing of this home at my disposal where I would be working and living.” I looked at her mom to get answers, but mostly to get my senses back from this unexpected assault, “I’m still unsure why your husband mentioned those would be the arrangements, given the room you have chosen for me.”
“Well, we assumed that having a thirteen hundred square feet to yourself would be enough,” Tina said with a look of confusion and embarrassment.
“But apparently it’s not,” Miss California smoothly cut in.
I turned back to her, hoping to silence her with my gaze, but it didn’t work. Instead, she challenged me with a brilliant smile and bleached-white teeth, “It isn’t. I will be honest.”
“If there’s one thing I’ve caught onto with you, Mr. Aster, ” she said, taking a margarita adorned with a slice of lime and handing it to me, “you are extremely honest, from your booze preferences to your other demands. So, you don’t need to tell us you’re being honest because your actions prove that.”
“That makes no sense,” I answered her as she took a margarita for herself and downed the damn thing like she really was on spring break. I was surprised to admit that it was probably one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen.
“What doesn’t make sense is that my parents are babying and accommodating you by spending twelve thousand bucks on booze so you can have a margarita tonight. And now this?” She sat back and waved her hand over the plans I’d been showing her mother.
“You’ll have to forgive my daughter?—”
“It’s fine,” I smiled at Tina, not needing her to save me from her spoiled child, who was entirely out of line.
Even though Darcy was out of line, strangely enough, I found it sexy. What was weirder than that was the feeling I was betraying Melissa. I knew a therapist would give me hell for thinking such a thing. I was aware that those thoughts were morbid and unfair, but this was the first time since Melissa’s death that I’d had these types of thoughts—thoughts a single man would have—and it made me feel guilty on some level.
“I see I’ve irritated you,” she said unflinchingly.
I smiled, “No, Darcy, you have done quite the opposite.”
“Excuse me?” She frowned, obviously confused by my reaction.
It was the first time I’d smiled or felt somewhat challenged and revitalized in months, so even I wasn’t sure what to think about my reaction.
“You haven’t irritated me; you’ve inspired me to imagine there will be a lot of refurbishing of this winery, starting with this room.”
She rolled her eyes, “That’s coming out of your pocket, then.”
“Darcel!” her mother snapped, and I tightened my lips when I saw the same horrified expression on Darcy’s face that I’d seen earlier when I’d called her by that name. It’s almost like someone poked her with a hot stick. Her sky-blue eyes popped open wide, and she covered her mouth to stop from spitting her margarita on me.
“Martina,” she shot back at her mom. “Can I ask why a name I’ve never been called has come up not once today,” her eyes moved to mine as if I’d planned this assault on her, then back to her mom, “but twice?”
“Because you’re out of line,” her mother responded without hesitation. “I suggest you find your place immediately before you are reminded why Mr. Aster is here.”
Her gaze grew solemn, and the repulsion in her expression for her full name was now being directed toward me.
“Very well, then,” she smiled at me, pissed as fuck. “Go on. I’m very curious to learn how you’ll be remodeling this entire estate for your comfort, all while improving the business, Mr. Aster. ”
I heard her mom sigh while I smiled in response. I had no idea why this interaction with a spoiled young woman who had zero respect for me was starting to wake up everything that felt dead inside of me, but it was, and I was intrigued by all the sensations that were coming from out of nowhere.
“Once we approve the remodel of the rooms where I’ll be staying, we will expand the refurbishments to other areas of the home until everything is completely updated, including the outdated kitchen.”
Her eyes narrowed at me, and it made me want to make up more shit just to piss her off.
“The kitchen?”
“Yes, the cocina ,” I said, repeating what her chef had said while Tina and I were lingering on the patio.
Her eyes challenged my grin, unashamed that I’d overheard her conversation with the chef.
“Seems you’ve eavesdropped on my conversation with Antonio?”
“I gathered information while I was?—”
“Wonderful,” she took a large gulp of her margarita, “then you’re very aware that the kitchen will be left untouched during your ambitious remodel of a twenty-two thousand square foot home.”
“You believe the kitchen in this home is safe and up to code?”
“I believe that I could eat off the floor in that kitchen, that’s how safe it is, and I also believe you shouldn’t piss off Antonio. Once you taste his food, you’ll agree that running him off is a worst-case scenario that cannot be justified by the whims of a man who knows nothing about food service.”
“What if a fire is caught due to old electrical wiring throughout the home? From my cursory glance, the main kitchen breaker is nearly falling off the wall. I’m certain that is more important than his cooking, or am I wrong?” I cocked my head to the side, studying her. Her expression was blank. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but I wanted to know. “Regardless, the kitchen is the one place that should be handled before anything else, even the rooms where I’ll be staying.”
She looked at her silent mom and then back to me. “Okay,” she answered, and then she conceded with a sigh, “you win, but stainless-steel appliances and white cabinets are not an option.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I suggest that if you come into someone’s home seeking to remodel it, you should try not to insult them in the process. And if you want to remodel the kitchen, where Antonio gladly spends all day busting his ass for us, you ask the chef what he wants,” she said, looking at her mom, who was now glancing at slides on the iPad and pointedly ignoring her daughter she couldn’t control.
“I will work with your mother and father,” I answered as if I’d consider giving the chef a say about the renovation of a property.
My emotions were taking a sharp turn toward sudden irritation. This woman was a firecracker, to be sure, but I didn’t enjoy her telling me how to do anything. It was cute a few moments ago, but seeing her mother cower must’ve given her the impression that I would do so as well, and she couldn’t be more wrong about that. The young woman was fun for a moment, but she needed to find some goddamn manners.
“You will work with Antonio, too,” she insisted.
“At your parents’ request, of course,” I countered, leaving us in some weird standoff of opinions over a stupid kitchen.
“I’m going to go get another margarita,” she said to her mother and then looked at me. “Would you care for another before you piss off the chef and he uses regular tequila instead of the shit you insisted we buy for you?”
“Actually, I would prefer a finger of tequila with two ice cubes,” I requested. I wasn’t a fan of mixers, and this tequila was too good not to enjoy straight.
“Two ice cubes?” she eyed me.
“Yes,” I answered.
“You’re watering down your expensive tequila with ice?”
“That’s only a problem if you give it time to melt,” I said. “And with how this conversation has been going, I doubt I’ll be able to resist downing it.”
I watched her march off, annoyed and fed up with my ass. Watching her walk away in her short skirt, calf muscles flexing with each stride in her wedges, I felt more alive than I had in years. Yes, I said years. Not even with Melissa had I ever felt so challenged.
It was ridiculous, bantering over opinions of what should take place to give this home a beautiful facelift. However, her bold audacity to challenge me in a way even my mother didn’t dare to had turned me on, and I had no idea why. Maybe it was because I’d been buried in grief, and this was the first glimpse at life again. It was like a light was peering into the mental coffin I’d lived in for over a year.
I never imagined something like this would amuse me about a woman. In fact, I would typically be revolted by her forwardness, calling me out on everything I had to say, but she was having the opposite effect on me.
And although I liked these feelings, they scared the shit out of me because I didn’t recognize myself. This definitely wasn’t me.