Page 14 of Making It While Faking It
TREASURE GROVE
Igroan, rubbing one side of my aching head as I sit against the headboard. This is the third time I’ve readTRM’s alert. I should be thankful that they didn’t mention the fact that I panicked and fled the scene. All I could think about was being the one responsible for ruining the contract between the Groves and Lords. We’re still in the early stages of our agreement. I don’t want to do anything to mess it up. Plus, during the signing process, Clive explained that if I’m found in breach of contract, then I will have to repay all the funds that have been released to me or an amount the executor of the trust sees fit—basically, the amount my dad sees fit. To be under his control sucks. But that’s not the reason why I haven’t spent the trust money on anything but my restaurant.
The day after I signed the contract, Xan emailed me a list of all the important parts he wanted me to examine. He circled one particular section in red ink. Apparently, I can pay the trust back any funds used before the end of the contract period, after which I’ll be able to nullify the contract. And so I thought, great. I would spend as much as I needed to bedazzle my restaurant, which will surely make me a lot of money. Then, probably within two years, I’ll make enough money to pay back the trust, and if I fall in love with someone else, I’ll divorce Mr. Storm Cloud Achilles Lord.
As far as personal expenses go, I’m ahead of the game there too. Last Wednesday, I received a payment in the amount 330,025 dollars from Tuff Studios, the producers ofMarked by the Sword. I emailed Jaycee to thank her. Of course, she complained about not being able to get in touch with me.
“Join the team,” I said, my way of letting her know that I was unreachable on purpose.
One thing I like about Jaycee is she knows how to get right down to business. We transitioned right into talking money. She still wants to pay me three million for my followers.
“Six,” I said.
“Four,” she countered.
“Five and half or nothing.”
“Five.”
“No.”
“Five and a quarter,” she shot back.
“Pay me half now and half when I deliver, and you have a deal,” I said.
She took that deal. I’ve been using that money to pay for my personal expenses.
Shaking my head, as I once again feel the anguish of last night grip me, I cringe as I lift the bedcovers and look down at myself. I’m still wearing the dress from last night. My escape comes back to me in rapid and vivid succession. My breaths are quick as I’m surrounded by darkness in the alley. My feet burn with every pounding step because wearing those Louboutins with a certain degree of comfort had long expired. I fought back tears when I made it to the building that houses the Airbnb I’ve been living in for over a month.
That was so insane. As I ran, it was as though I was having an out-of-body experience. Hands over my face, I groan into my palms. I am so embarrassed.
Then my doorbell rings, and I heave a sigh so heavy it makes me realize I’m out of breath.
“Damn it,” I whisper.
It has to be my dad, or worse—it could be Max.
The doorbell rings again.
Grabbing the knob, I crane my neck forward to look through the peephole.
“Shit.”
It’s not Max. Up until this very moment, I thought seeing him would be worse, but now, seeing my dad suddenly feels like the worst thing ever.
I clutch my stomach, which feels as if a boulder sits inside it. There’s no use in delaying the inevitable. My face is numb as I turn the knob and blink at the eyes of my father.
The corners of Leo’s mouth are pulled downward into the most awful frown.
“Good morning,” I sing in a voice of manufactured cheer. Shamelessly, my goal is to affect his mood. But it doesn’t work—his stern expression remains resilient.
“You’re going to live with Achilles Lord. A car is waiting for you downstairs. Pete will take you to Achilles’s apartment.”
I gape at him as if he’s lost his mind. “What? I just can’t pick up and move in with Achilles. I need my…”
“You need your belongings,” he says.
“Yeah,” I whisper. I feel like my brain is processing what he just said way too slowly.
