Page 2 of Heartless (Scathing Hearts #1)

Sienna

Gabby hopped onto my bed, and her whole body bounced in a flurry of prettiness.

“Shit, Nana. You’ve told me on the phone, but holy shit. Look at this place. You’re like Cinderella! My dad knows yours well, so that makes us like sisters.”

I neared the foot of the bed. “I thought being best friends made us sisters.”

“New filthy rich daddy, new house, you even looked different.” She perused me with an approving nod. “I think you’ve lost weight too.”

The DNA test had confirmed I was Nigel’s child.

My mother had been a fling during a business trip in the UK twenty-three years ago.

He’d been married at the time—he still was, but to his third wife—and Mom hadn’t told him about the pregnancy.

As luck would have it, he’d been on his way to Sacramento when he’d spotted Mom’s name in the obits section of a local newspaper.

The last few weeks had been a whirlwind. I’d finally finished my degree in Comparative Literature, and Mr. Cranston had offered me a permanent position as his assistant. But mostly, I’d missed my best friend.

She’d returned from Sydney two days ago, and I’d been so happy to have my friend back that I’d pushed the hurt and betrayal I’d felt at her desertion to the back of my mind and invited her over for lunch at my new place.

But Gabby had double booked her Saturday, so I had lunch by myself.

After a tour of the condo Nigel had rented for me and paid for a year in advance, the first thing she’d done had been to check my new wardrobe. Now, two hours after she’d parked her sports car in my driveway, she was lying on her side, propped up on her bent elbow at the bottom end of my new bed.

Nigel told me he was trying to make up for lost time.

And boy had he ever. The condo was the latest in the long list of his extremely generous gestures.

One I’d accepted because after sifting through Mom’s things, the weight of her absence had been suffocating.

He’d also hired a personal shopper who’d helped me pick a brand-new wardrobe.

But I’d declined the new car. Mine was old but well taken care of.

I’d also refused the thousands of dollars stipend he’d offered. He’d insisted, but I’d stood my ground.

Gabby sprang off the bed and strutted to the en suite. “You have make-up now, and the bathroom’s bigger than your old living room.”

That was an exaggeration, but I understood what she meant.

The luxuriously furnished two-bedroom house with a dropping backyard and a huge deck was spacious.

The late afternoon sunrays were bathing the bedroom, which had a long terrace wide enough for a wicker two-seater sofa and an iron cast forged table.

When she leaped back onto the middle of the yellow comforter, she did it with her shoes on.

I moved closer to the bed. “Gabby, take your shoes off, honey.”

The change in her expression was one I’d witnessed often but rarely directed at me.

“Being rich turned you into a bitch, Nana.”

My back snapped straight. “Don’t call me names. And stop calling me ‘Nana.’ You know I don’t like it.” When her eyes narrowed into slits, I pitched my voice low. “I’m not rich, Nigel is. And your family is probably as rich as he is. Take off your shoes or get off my bed.”

With her gaze locked onto mine, Gabby reached for her right foot.

She curled her fingers around the stiletto heel and pulled the brown leather pump off.

Then she flicked her wrist, sending it flying to the side of the bed.

The thump was softened by the rug. The second one made more of a clack as it hit the wooden floor.

She threw her hands, palms up, by her sides. “Happy now?”

My knees butted against the side of the mattress.

“I buried my mom. Alone. Because my best friend, my only friend, couldn’t delay her family vacation by one day to be with me the day I needed her the most. A father I don’t know wants to put me in a bubble made of money.

” I exhaled a long breath and inched my face until her minted breath brushed my nose.

“Now, that same friend is giving me attitude because I asked her to take her dirty shoes off my bed. So, no, Gabby, I am not happy.”

After straightening up, I raked my fingers through my awesome new haircut. “You should go. I still have some unpacking to do. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

The next second, she was in front of me with her arms wrapped around my shoulders. I didn’t move. She slanted back, and her voice softened. “Nana, you know I get weird around sad people.”

Gabby’s way of dealing with anything steering her away from fun was to run. Fast. I knew about her emotionally vacant childhood, and I understood. But still.

My throat and my nose stung. “I’m not ‘sad people’.”

Tilting her head to the side with an apologetic smile, she said, “I know, and I should have been there.”

She tightened her hug. “Come on, bestie. I’m here now.”

On a deep breath, I hugged her back. “Seriously sweetie, you should go. I’m meeting Nigel’s son tonight.”

My friend twisted her mouth in a comical grimace. “Yeesh, let’s hope he’ll be nicer than Furiosa.”

I couldn’t help but giggle. It was her nickname for Nigel’s wife, Kimberly, a stunning redhead, who had not welcomed my arrival in his life with grace, to put it lightly.

Furiosa was an apt name for her.

Gabby tsked. “I’ve seen her at boring charity galas, and the woman looks downright slutty.”

That was a little mean. And not true. I blinked while my brain processed her words. “Gabby, I know you didn’t mean it, but that sounds a lot like internalized misogyny, sweetie.”

Her lips pinched before she flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“You should ask your dad for a job in one of his companies. I’m Director of Digital Engagement at Ashford Corporation because the old cronies in the PR department don’t know Instagram from TikTok.

And all I have to do is not piss Jerry off while Farrah keeps herself busy by banging her yoga teachers.

Gabby called her parents by their first names, which I always found a little strange, but utterly fascinating.

I pecked her cheek. “I know you find my job boring, but I’m good at it, and it leaves me plenty of time for my writing and—”

When she made a snoring sound before her forehead hit my shoulder, I giggled. Then I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and firmly nudged her toward the door.

Stopping, she pivoted, and her voice peppered with excitement. “Don’t forget, I got us on the VIP list at the Silver Shell on Friday.”

I hadn’t forgotten, nightclubs were just not my scene, but I loved dancing, and I was looking forward to spending some fun time with Gabby. “How can I forget? We’re celebrating my graduation.”

After more pushing, there was another stop and pivot from Gabby. “Wear the black Hervé Leger and the gold Manolos I saw in your wardrobe.”

“Bye, Gabby.”

Once she’d waved from her hatchback BMW, I shut the door of my new abode and ambled back to the three boxes waiting to be unpacked. I’d just knelt in front of the first box when the chime of my doorbell snaked through the house. Geez. Gabby.