Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Farrow:
A delight.
Farrow:
I started out by busting my ass for ten hours.
Ari:
It’s a great ass, though, so glass half full.
Farrow:
Then, he and his date watched me clean the tiles together, which was also a treat.
Ari:
Clean the tiles?
Ari:
Is that code for something?
Ari:
I swear, the weirdest kinks come out of America.
Ari:
Wait. He brought a date home?
Ari:
What a fuckboy.
Farrow:
They had mooncakes and tea in the conservatory overlooking the Potomac River.
Ari:
Okay. I take that back.
Ari:
That sounds pretty picturesque.
Farrow:
Oh. And then his mom chased me around, offering to pay me not to work for him.
Farrow:
I turned down TWO MILLION DOLLARS. Now’s a good time to tell me I’m stupid.
Ari:
You’re not stupid. You have morals.
Ari:
But WHY?
Farrow:
She thinks he likes me too much.
Farrow:
I bet she’s worried I’ll steal his sperm while I tidy up his bedroom.
Ari:
I mean… is that completely off the table?
Ari:
He IS hot. LOL.
Farrow:
Bitch, I would birth the next grim reaper or something. The man is lethal.
Farrow:
But enough about my glamorous life.
Farrow:
What are you doing with your life?
Ari:
Choosing catering for my wedding next summer.
Farrow:
Wish I could be there. I miss Seoul.
Ari:
Seoul misses you.
Farrow:
Come visit soon.
Ari:
Promise. <3
Itook the egg hurled at my temple as a sign from God that I’d made the right decision signing my soul over to Zachary Sun.
If anything, kicking my step-monsters out of Dad’s home would give me some much-needed peace and quiet.
Reggie’s wails boomed from the kitchen into the entryway. “I think I’m having a panic attack.”
I would, too, if I’d missed my calling in baseball. With that arm, she could’ve been the next Spencer Strider.
I shut the front door behind me and ignored the splattered yolk, feeling like a semitrailer had run me over several times before someone scraped me off the road, hurled me into a dumpster fire, then shot my remainders.
Every inch of me felt bruised, malnourished, and bone-tired.
When I hauled myself into the kitchen, the contents of the freezer greeted me. Frozen veggies, chicken nuggets, and ancient half-pints of ice cream—checkered across the floor.
“I can’t find my macaroons.” Reggie tromped out of the pantry with a face full of makeup and a dress straight out of Stepford Wives. “Please tell me you didn’t eat them, Tab. How can I complete my vlog?”
“That shit gets three hundred views on a good day.” Perched on an island stool, Tabby ran her tongue over her teeth in front of a compact mirror. She scooped the car keys from an ugly fruit bowl. “Admit it, Reggie, it’s not a career. It’s a money pit. Be an Elsa, not an Anna.”
“An Elsa?”
“Let it go.”
With a sigh, I jerked the fridge open, grabbed a yogurt cup, and commandeered someone’s half-eaten tray of raspberries.
Neither Thing 1 nor Thing 2 noticed me, even after I slammed the door shut with my hip and started trudging my way to my room.
I’d clean everything tomorrow.
I was dog tired.
Reggie stomped around behind my back. “You’re just jealous I actually have a career.”
I tossed a few raspberries into my mouth and wondered what kind of mouthwatering dinner Zach’s chef made for him tonight.
Grabbing the banister, I took the stairs two at a time, shaking my head. It got warmer the further I traveled down the long, narrow corridor.
Mine was the last room and by far the smallest. It suited me fine. Easier to heat up in the winter.
I kicked the door open, thinking nothing of the fact that it was already slightly ajar, when I found Vera sitting criss-cross applesauce on my bed, surrounded by a halo of scattered documents.
I set my dinner on my study desk and rushed to the bed, collecting all the papers. “What the hell are you doing?”
My birth certificate.
An engagement letter with a lawyer that had already dropped me six months ago when I couldn’t afford her retainer.
Some legal documents regarding my fencing federation penalty.
All there.
Check, check, check.
Vera stood, rearranging her Gucci belt over her waist. A secondhand treasure she’d snagged at a thrift store.
“Don’t look so scandalized, child. I knew you were up to something, so I decided to sniff around.”
“You went through my stuff?” I spat out, collecting everything into my arms and opening the blue folder I’d organized them in. “Who gave you the right?”
She flung her bleached hair to one shoulder. “This is my house, you know.”
“Ours,” I corrected, shoving the documents inside and clutching the folder to my chest. “It belongs to me, too.”
Vera peered around the room with distaste, already calculating what she could do with the space. “I’ll buy it off you eventually.”
“With what money? I’m the only one here who works.”
She waltzed into my closet. The hinges creaked and groaned. “Don’t give me this attitude. You deserve everything that’s coming your way.”
Every muscle in my body clenched as she began sifting through my clothes, searching for… What?
Secrets? More documents? Things to help her figure out what I was up to?