Page 7 of Beautiful Desire (Blossom Beach #3)
Giving her the finger, we all burst into laughter for a moment before the conversation shifts to Grace and the romantic getaway to New York she just took.
My chest warms, and I can’t keep the smile off my face, hearing her detail everything from the trip.
Grace and Conway, her new man, have quite the tumultuous history, but this trip was his grand way of getting the girl.
Going from not being able to stand the guy to now being in love with him, my little sister is glowing, and I love that for her.
All she’s ever wanted is to find her soulmate and be loved and treated like a princess. She’s a true romantic, unlike me.
Grace and I have both experienced heartbreak.
The only difference is, she has always bravely worn her heart on her sleeve, regardless of the trauma, while I’ve kept mine locked up in an impenetrable cage with no access to the key.
I don’t believe in soulmates, and to be honest, I don’t think I even really believe in true love .
At least not like we see in books or movies.
Putting all my trust in somebody else, giving them my entire heart, knowing it’s only a matter of time before they use my love against me to shatter me to pieces, sounds foolish and the furthest thing from enjoyable.
Sure, that may make me cynical or jaded, but at least nobody could ever call me naive.
I’ve made damn sure of that, because as the saying goes: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
“Hey, we’re out of toilet paper,” Fletcher announces. My head snaps in his direction, not having heard him approach.
“Okay? Then go get some more. You’re a big boy. Surely, you know how to buy toilet paper.”
Charley coughs to cover her laugh.
Fletcher stares at me blankly before saying, “My dad cut me off?”
He phrases it like a question, like I’m supposed to know this, but it’s news to me. Although, it does tickle me to know Alden put him on a budget while he’s here.
“How tragic for you,” I deadpan. “I don’t know where you’re used to shopping for toilet paper, but where I’m from, it’s less than twenty bucks for a pack. Think you can manage, rich boy.”
His cheeks turn a deep shade of crimson. With his brows furrowed, his eyes narrow into slits. “I don’t fucking have any money, Georgia.”
My eyes widen as something fierce and dark spreads in my chest. I swear to god, he better not be saying what I think he’s saying. “What the fuck do you mean, you have no money?”
“My. Dad. Cut. Me. Off,” he repeats slowly. “I just fucking said that. What’s not to understand?”
Before I have a chance to respond, he brings a muffin I hadn’t noticed in his hand up to his mouth and takes a bite. “Is that my blackberry lemon muffin?”
“Yeah, it is,” he replies, taking another bite. “Fucking delicious.”
“Those are mine ,” I grit out. “I don’t remember telling you to help yourself to the food in my kitchen.”
“It was the last one too.” Eyes lit up with mirth meet mine, holding my gaze as he takes another fucking bite before he shrugs and huffs out a laugh. “Guess you better get more.”
“Oh, boy,” Grace murmurs, but I barely hear her over the blood whooshing in my ears and the violet beating of my heart against my ribcage.
This is un-fucking-believable . First, I’m backed into a corner and forced to agree to this asinine plan, then I’m told he has to live under my roof too, and now he’s eating the last of my favorite fucking muffins while telling me he’s broke and can’t contribute to anything.
“Absolutely fucking not,” I bark, rising off the chair.
Walking over to him, I place a hand on my hip as I point a finger in his face.
“This isn’t a fucking vacation, Fletcher.
Over my dead fucking body, will you live here for free.
You’re going to be a goddamn adult, learn some responsibility, and help out around here. ”
“Get your fucking finger out of my face.” His jaw pops, anger flashing in his eyes as he takes a step toward me.
“I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talking to, but I’m not some child you get to order around.
And let’s use our heads for a minute. How the fuck am I supposed to help out?
With monopoly money? I already said—twice now, actually— my dad cut me off . That means no money.”
I bite down on my molars, hard enough I wouldn’t be surprised if I cracked one.
“I know exactly who the fuck I’m talking to, rich boy,” I bite out, taking a step closer, my finger jabbing into his obnoxiously hard chest. “In case you’ve forgotten, your future and all that precious money your dad is withholding from you depends solely on how your time here goes.
Continue to act like some egotistical spoiled fucking brat, and I’ll make sure to run and tell your daddy all about how not ready or capable you are to join him at the top. ”
His lips press into a thin line as his nostrils flare on a harsh exhale.
If looks could kill, I’d be dead. I can’t help but chuckle.
He knows he needs me to sing his praises to his father, and that means he has to play by my rules, and fuck , if that doesn’t just fill me with giddiness.
The anger rolling off him and knowing it’s probably killing him to bite his tongue and not say some smart-ass shit back has me elated .
That is, until he opens his mouth again.
“Let’s also not forget that your future depends on how this goes too, so don’t act like I’m the only one here with something to lose.” Fletcher smirks, and it sours my stomach. “You’re at Alden St. James’ mercy, just as much as I am.”
The room is so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. I don’t have to look behind me to know Charley and my sisters are sitting on the edge of their seat, waiting to see how this plays out. Anger boils inside of me, and I want to scream.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” I say, as a sickly sweet—and entirely fake—smile slides up my face.
“As of right now, you’re the newest employee at A Book to Remember, congratulations!
While you live in my house, you’re going to work for me part time, and you will be pulling your weight around here.
You will contribute to groceries and bills.
But not only that, I’m not a fucking maid, so you will be helping with chores around the house too.
And you’ll do it all with a smile on your face, or I’ll make sure you never see another goddamn dime from that trust fund of yours.
You aren’t going to threaten me in my own house. Am I making myself clear, rich boy?”
Oh, he’s pissed . There’s practically steam billowing from his ears. “Yes,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Yes, ma’am ,” I correct, my lip twitching with a smirk.
Fletcher rolls his eyes and huffs. “Whatever.”
“Say. It.”
“I’m not fucking saying that,” he barks.
“Oh, but you will.” Placing both hands on my hips, I tilt my head to the side and arch a brow. “You will speak to me with respect as long as you’re living in my house.”
He holds my gaze, jaw tight, and I swear, he’s about to pop a blood vessel as the vein on his forehead pulses.
“Don’t make me ask again,” I taunt, keeping my voice low. Lips curling into a grin, I add, “Be a good boy and do as you’re told. Repeat after me, yes, ma’am .”
The silence and tension filling the air is deafening, his anger palpable. Fletcher doesn’t say anything for a moment. We stand in front of each other in a silent standoff, and just when I think he’s going to flat-out refuse, he huffs out a sharp exhale and mutters, “Yes, ma’am .”
Elation swells in my chest, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling at the scowl on his face, as if calling me “ma’am” and using his manners physically pained him. Crossing my arms over my chest, I say, “See, that wasn’t so hard.”
Clenching his jaw again, he doesn’t say a word as he turns and storms down the hall, disappearing into the spare room that’s now his, the door slamming shut behind him.
Pleased with myself, I spin around and sit back in the chair beside Charley.
“I’m officially wet,” she announces. “Thanks for that.”
Rolling my eyes, I chuckle. “Yeah, but I kind of bit myself in the ass with that one. Not only do I have to see him in my house, but now I have to see him at work too. I’m never going to escape him.”
Although, I can’t deny how much fun I’ll have putting him in his place again whenever he acts up. So, maybe it won’t be all bad.