Page 4 of Mr. Aster
He laughed and seemed at a loss for words. Then, to my utter shock, he threw his arms around me, and the short man’s head was lying on the center of my chest while the Corona he held spilled down the back of my slacks.
Every part of my body tensed with the sudden gesture, not knowing if I should shove the man off me, throw him over the balcony, or shake him and tell him to pull himself together and neverhugme again.
What the actual fuck was I dealing with here?
“Jesus Christ,” I said, untangling myself with much more politeness than I realized I possessed, given the circumstances. “Compose yourself, sir,” I exhaled, not knowing what to say or do. “I’m merely doing this for myself since I’ll be here for an extended period.”
He teared up with happiness, “You are really going to save my dream, aren’t you?”
It seems your mind needs to be saved more than your ramshackle dream.
“That is the ultimate goal, yes,” I cleared my throat, wholly uncomfortable by his emotional state. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be taking my dinner in my room tonight while I work on getting things squared away with the apartments I’ll be staying in.”
“Join us,” he pleaded. “Please.”
I sighed. I didn’t want to join anyone for dinner, especially these pieces of work; however, it would be prudent to be respectful since I’d planned an impromptu remodel of this family’s house without their consent. Some might have said my plans were in bad form, but if those people had seen what I was expected to stay in, they’d probably change their minds.
I supposed speaking to Mrs. Burke would show that I wasn’t entirely ungracious, but if she was married to a man like this, I couldn’t imagine her personality.
There was no way I would meet the woman alone to discuss the matter. I didn’t want any other unsolicited displays of affection, so sitting with a table between us was my best bet at avoiding physical contact.
“When is dinner?” I questioned, wanting to get this part out of the way.
“In two hours,” he answered with the excitement of a young child, nearly bouncing on his feet.
“I’ll be there. Please advise Mrs. Burke of my intentions.” I looked at my watch to see how much time I had before the meeting. “If dinner is in two hours, that’s plenty of time for me to have things designed and laid out how I would like. Hopefully, it will be agreeable to her as well.”
“We’re meeting for drinks in an hour if you’d like to go over things with her there?”
“Great idea,” I answered, knowing that a drink or twenty would loosen me up. “I’ll see all of you then.”
Dear God, what was going on here? I knew I’d turned into a complete asshole after losing Melissa, but my parents’ answer to getting my life back on track and feeling alive again couldn’t have been throwing me into this nightmare, could it? Were they just pissed off at me? I didn’t get it.
I had no idea what to think, but it was probably best that I just handled business as I saw fit—one shitty space at a time—as I went through and uncovered how I would magically fix this winery and make it successful.
First things first, though. I needed to be comfortable in my own space, or this idea of my father’s was going to send me into an early grave or give me a nervous breakdown, whichever came first.
After a shower, I would feel decent enough to share drinks with these strangers, but first, I needed to give some insight to our designer in New York. So, with a new mission in front of me, I marched over to the other side of this second-story home to take pictures. I’d have Franco contact a local design company and mandate that the renovations be done in a month or less.
I wasn’t fucking around. The quicker I was comfortable, the quicker I’d make this business successful and get home to New York to be with my daughter.
Chapter Three
Darcy
My lukewarm shower water was stifling hot compared to Sebastian Aster’s icy gaze and conversation. People like to throw around the termIce 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 wasnothingto 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, Señorita,” 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.
