I reach up and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Do you want to elaborate?” I ask calmly. If she mentions anything about Otto, my mood will slide. That would be a shame, since I’m feeling almost chirpy today, which is more than I can say for Brad and James. Things are coming together. It feels good.
“You’re buying Rose a spa?”
My hand drops from my face. “Say what?”
“A spa. You’re buying her a spa.”
“Am I?”
“Well, according to your wife, yes. So again, what’s going on?”
I feel my nostrils flare. My mood takes a nosedive. Trust my wife. I hang up and smash my thumb across the screen, walking away from the bar to reduce the risk of the top shelf of liquor shattering when my booming voice hits it.
“Hello, dear,” she says happily.
“Don’tdearme. What the fuck, Rose?” I ask, relatively calmly, all things considered. I can see what’s coming, and I seriously do not like it.
“You told me tomake it work. So I’m making it work.”
Yes, she’s making it work. For herself. The conniving bitch. “And how much ismaking it workgoing to cost me?”
“I’m in negotiations,” she declares, a strongness to her voice that doesn’t bode well. It’s cocky. “But I’ve assured the proprietor that money isn’t an issue, is it, darling?”
No, it’s not, but her having an interest other than me is. “Rose?”
“Yes, darling.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“Am I?” she cries, sounding surprised. “Shit, I wondered what the fuck was going on with my body.”
I look up at the ceiling. God, please, make her stop before I do something I regret. Like kill her. “You’re blackmailing me.”
“I’m harnessing my power.”
I laugh. “Oh, baby, you sure do have power.” And she exerts it unapologetically. I can’t fucking blame her. She never had power before she had me.
“Danny,” she says, sounding way too matter of fact. “You told me to make it work. Did you honestly think Beau was buying some horseshit about me wanting to bond over a facial and a bikini wax?”
“No, but she might have bought some horseshit about you wanting to slag your husband off over a facial and a bikini wax.”
“Oh, that wouldn’t have been horseshit. I’ve been bad-mouthing you all day.”
“I hope not, since I’m about to part with hundreds of thousands of my money for you.”
“It’s mine.”
“What?”
“Your money. It’s mine. You left it to me three years ago when you drowned at sea. And the asking price is five million.”
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. “What?”
“Don’t worry. I think I can get her down to four.”
“God, I fucking hate you.”
“I’ll get over it. Have a lovely day, dear.” She hangs up, and I yell a few times, punching thin air before me.