“Not according to the studies,” I say, making shit up. “Look it up.”
Gasping, she slaps her forehead.
Yuna covers her mouth, her eyes bright with laughter, and we walk off. Enough time has been wasted.
But I know I won. Jessica will be busy for the next few days looking
for studies on forehead varicose veins.
Chapter Eighteen
Yuna
On the way back to Malibu, Declan stops by a Starbucks drive-through and buys coffee for both of us. I sip my soy latte and sigh.
“This is perfect,” I say. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He swallows a mouthful of iced macchiato. “And sorry about the scene after lunch. Hopefully Jessica won’t do that again.”
“It’s no big deal. I enjoyed it, actually.” I can feel myself grinning with perverse excitement. It was like starring in a train-wreck K-drama with all sorts of crazy tropes. I should wait for the cliché of all clichés: the Secret Behind Somebody Important’s Birth. K-dramas like this are so popular, there’s even a word for them: makjang.
I wonder which one of Witches Jessica is. Definitely not Witch2, because her texts made her sound like a really old ex. Maybe Witch8. Or maybe she isn’t important enough to rank that high. I should ask Benedict when he gets back.
As we get to the gates, I enter the passcode. Declan drives up the winding road and parks in front of the main entrance.
We enter the nicely air-conditioned mansion together. Just as the door’s about to shut, there’s a hair-raising cry from behind me. Somebody rushes us from outside. I stop to see what’s going on, and Declan bumps into me.
The coffee I’m holding slops around, but the lid prevents it from spilling, thank God. I would’ve been annoyed if it stained my Dior.
“What the fuck?” Declan says, turning around.
I do the same, quickly positioning myself behind him. I’m an assistant, not a bodyguard. And I feel quite protected behind his wide shoulders and strong, muscled back.
A tall woman with dark brown hair pulled into a low ponytail is standing with her feet braced shoulder-width apart. Her eyes are too closely set on her face to be pretty, and she has a feral, angular look that makes her appear rather skeletal. Her breasts are full, although I’m pretty certain they’re fake. They aren’t quivering, not even a little, even though she’s breathing hard enough for me to see her chest rise and fall.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Declan’s voice is murderous.
“You can’t do this to me!” she screams, apparently oblivious to Declan’s mood.
Is this another ex-girlfriend? How come her security code still works?
“Who is that?” I ask. God, I love watching real-life drama. Now I wish I had a tub of popcorn.
“My…sister, Ella,” he grinds out.
“That’s your sister…?” Wow. I thought any sibling of his would be absolutely gorgeous. Maybe God ran out of gorgeousness after he got done with Declan. Besides, she isn’t outright ugly. It’s more like a complete lack of any sort of attractiveness.
The frothing at the mouth doesn’t help. Maybe God also ran out of “normal and sane people” genes, too.
“Half-sister,” Declan says.
Oh. I think half means they have the same father. Or is it the same mother? I can’t remember. Regardless, nobody would believe they’re even half related. “So how did she get in?”
“I climbed over the wall! This is important!” she yells.
“Isn’t that illegal, no matter how important ‘this’ is? What’s she really doing here?” I ask Declan.
“Stop talking to me, bitch!” She speaks like she’s the one who owns the mansion, jabbing her finger at me.