“Delete them, unread. I’m not paying you to waste time with that trash.”
“Already done. But I thought you should know she’s not giving up.”
Of course she isn’t. But it’s to her benefit to look for the next sugar daddy elsewhere…and as soon as possible. Every second she grows older, the less desirable she becomes as a trophy. “I already blocked her on my phone.”
“I warned security,” Benedict says.
“Good.” This is why Benedict is my right-hand man.
“And Ella called.”
“Ha. Not just once, I’ll wager.”
“Twenty-six times.”
My teeth grind together. My half-sister always calls when she needs something. And it’s almost always money. Until she got engaged, she also asked me to introduce her to rich men in my circle. She refuses to understand I wouldn’t wish her on my worst enemy. Not because my enemies deserve better, but because I don’t want her to get to live her dream of being a rich man’s wife.
“What did she want?” I ask impatiently.
“The usual. Money. Fifty K.”
I nearly choke. Fifty thousand dollars? She still hasn’t figured out that I’m not giving her anything? “For what? Plastic surgery?”
Benedict lets out a small, muffled laugh. He knows how much I hate my half-sibling. “No.”
“Good, because it wouldn’t help.”
She’s not ugly, per se, but her features are off. Unbalanced. Every single one of them. And living in L.A. makes it a hundred times worse, since the city’s full of gorgeous women. Every small town’s prettiest girl makes the journey and dreams of becoming a movie star.
“It’s for her wedding.” Benedict manages a calm, non-laughing tone.
“Didn’t she already get fifty thousand from her mother?” I demand. Although it supposedly came from her mother, it’s really my damned money. Father was many things, but he wasn’t a font of cash.
“Eighty, actually. And yes, she did. But apparently she needs more.”
“Tell her no. She’s lucky I’m not praying for a tsunami for the wedding.”
She plans to get married on a beach. With flower-festooned arches and rose petals in the air. The entire idea is ridiculous. The sea winds will sweep every petal away before the ceremony starts.
I wonder if fifty K could buy her a new and improved brain? She needs that more than a ludicrous wedding to a trust-fund moron. That way, their children won’t end up with turkey-level IQs.
“I don’t think the chances of a tidal wave are particularly high.”
“Can’t you sacrifice a goat or something? Appease Poseidon?”
“Sorry. Outside my work scope,” Benedict says.
“What ‘work scope’? Celebrity assistants do anything their bosses want them to do. It’s not like I don’t pay you enough.” His salary and benefits are at least twenty percent above the usual pay for celebrity assistants. I make sure to compensate my people well. “Make it a virgin goat.”
“I’m quite sure it’s illegal to sacrifice an animal within the city limits.”
“I’ll bail you out if you get arrested.”
“It won’t look good if you have an assistant who gets arrested for caprinicide. Bad publicity.”
“For what?”
“Caprinicide. Caprine is the adjective for goats. You know, like bovine for cows, ursine for bears, porcine for pigs…”