"Because I'm not supposed to touch that money. It's part of my trust, but I became eligible to use it when I turned twenty-one. My grandfather has requested I keep it locked up until I finish college. I respect him, so if he asks me not to do something, I try to oblige. In this case, I think he'd agree it was worth touching my trust."
She looks affronted. Crap. I just want her out of my home. Is that so much to ask?
"I can't do that," she mumbles, turning her head to the side and pretending to watch the world we're passing by.
That makes no damn sense. What's the endgame here?
"Why? It's basically the same deal my father made you."
"Your father worried you'd do this, so he made me a deal I couldn't refuse when I rode with him to your house."
Motherfucker. That pompous bastard is always one step ahead. Why can't he just let me live my life?
"What was it?" I ask, trying not to rip my steering wheel out of its place. I can still counter offer. Albeit he has a shit-ton more money than I do, but I can at least make an attempt.
"He said if I stayed until the start of next semester, he'd buy me a home after I graduate college, too. Wherever I choose. It's not exactly something I can afford to pass up. Not all of us have a trust."
That's it? By then I'll be running the vineyard and I'll have plenty enough money to buy her a damn house of her choosing. Two houses? That's the big deal he made with her? Perfect. Too easy.
"Well, hell. I'll buy you a home after you graduate. There. Problem solved."
Finally.
"I already gave him my word. To some people, that means something. You had three days to try and make this right. You didn't want to, and now your father has been too nice to me to screw him over."
She can't be serious right now.
"Make it right?" I ask in disbelief. "I didn't bulldoze your ho
use. The frat boys, who I didn't even invite, did it. Why the hell am I being tortured? Because my family has the most money, that's why. You see dollar signs, Cherry. That's it."
Classic. Poor girl suckers rich idiot out of money. And I thought my father was supposed to be a brilliant man.
"My name isn't Cherry. It's Raya. And no, that's not it. You're an inconsiderate son of a bitch who has never once given a damn about anyone other than yourself and what you want to do."
Yeah. I hate her. No doubt about it at this point. She doesn't know a thing about me. I don't have to defend myself or explain myself to her or anyone.
"Tell me how you really feel. Don't hold back on my account, even though you don't know the first damn thing about me," I say, lacing the words with as much sarcasm as possible.
Did she really just roll her eyes at me?
"I know all I need to."
Without arguing with her last tart remark, I turn into the parking lot of one of my father's stores. I don't even offer her a parting glance as I head in, ready to get this shit over with so I can come up with a new way to force her out.
"Kade," a woman whose name I don't know says, acting as though we're all friends. Not a surprise that everyone who works for Paul Colton knows what his son looks like. I hate shopping in these stores.
I nod in passing while pulling my shades off, and head straight to the small lobby area where there are plenty of magazines for the bored husbands and boyfriends who get dragged along for torturous shopping trips.
Snatching up a magazine with a sexy body on the front, I plop down and hide my sulking. I see Raya without looking up, but I pretend to be concentrated on this magazine on... what the hell? Is this really a women's fitness magazine? Shit.
"You must be Raya. Mr. Colton called to tell me you might be stopping by. I've got a wide selection already set up for you," the girl says, giving me a warning that the devil is about to be in Prada for real.
"I think I can add a few more things that will go well with these," the woman says, and I'll be damned if she doesn't grope Raya's fucking tits, which in turn earns a loud squeal from the sheltered girl.
I hate my zipper right now. It's not nice. Not nice at all.
"Sorry," the woman chuckles while moving her hands away.