Page 6 of Mr. Aster
“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,heneeds 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—aregular, normal human beingtequila—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 heis, 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, Señorita,” 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 toEl Diablo’sdemands, 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.
Chapter Four
Sebastian
Iwalked 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.
