Chapter 2
"Hey, old woman!" he yelled.
I paused my iPad and wiped my tears.
"Get some more booze from the cellar! We've run out downstairs!" he demanded, pointing a finger at me.
"Move," I said flatly.
"What?" he spat.
"You're blocking my light."
He bristled like a provoked bull. "Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that?"
"I'm the person your father is paying to be here and do nothing," I stated calmly, gesturing toward the door. "Fetching alcohol isn't in my job description. Go find the butler."
In a rage, he snatched my iPad and smashed it onto the floor.
The screen shattered instantly.
"Now! Go! Get! The! Drinks!" he roared.
I looked at him—his red hair, his furious eyes, all that youthful arrogance making him resemble a puffed-up gamecock.
I stood up, though I was still a head shorter than him.
"Jonathan," I said.
"What?" he snapped.
"That was the latest top-of-the-line iPad. It cost two thousand dollars. You broke it. Cash or transfer?"
He seemed completely thrown by my demand for payment, staring at me in confusion. "What?"
"Pay up," I repeated.
"Like hell I'll pay for your..."
"Or," I cut him off, pulling out my phone, "I can call your father right now.
"I'll inform him that his son is hosting an unauthorized rager with illegal noise levels and has destroyed private property.
"And while I'm at it, I might ask if that strict boarding school in Aureland he mentioned is still accepting students."
Jonathan's face went pale, then flushed deep red. "You wouldn't dare!"
"Try me," I said, unlocking my phone screen. "My contract pays me thirty thousand a month, not to get my things broken or be insulted.
"Calling your dad would just be overtime. I might even get a bonus."
He stared daggers at me, looking as if he wanted to tear me apart.
The music continued to thump violently from downstairs.
"Fine! You win!" he finally snarled, pulling out his own phone and jabbing at the screen aggressively.
The automated voice announced, "Transfer received. Two thousand dollars."
"Happy now?" he gritted out.
"It'll do," I said, picking up the shattered iPad.
He asked, "And the drinks..."
"The spare key to the cellar is in the third drawer of the cabinet in the storage room downstairs. The keypad code is your father's birthday in reverse."
I put my headphones back on. "Close the door on your way out."
Jonathan stood there for a long moment.
Finally, with a thunderous slam of the door, he was gone.
Peace and quiet restored.
I was learning that even a life of leisure required its own strategies.
The second son, Roman, was a different beast entirely.
He was a wolf in sheep's clothing, a hundred times more troublesome than his fiery elder brother.
He was tasked with "overseeing" my well-being.
"Audrey," he began one evening at dinner, pushing his gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose.
He said, "You seem a bit listless lately. Perhaps you're bored? Maybe you'd like to take on a small role at the company?"
"No need," I replied.
He sighed theatrically. "Dad hasn't been well recently. The doctor says he's overworked. It would be such a relief if someone could share his burdens..."
He let the sentence hang, his gaze pointedly fixed on me.
"I'm afraid I can't help with that," I said, setting down my spoon.
I added, "The prenuptial agreement was perfectly clear: no claims on assets, no interference in operations, no unsolicited opinions. I am a woman who respects the rules."
His eyes glinted behind his lenses. "You have a peculiar sense of humor, Audrey."
"Tell you what," he continued smoothly, "there's a charity auction gala next month. Dad is unavailable. Would you represent the Kinsley family?"
"Fine," I agreed readily. "What do I need to do?"
"It's simple," he said with a practiced smile. "Just secure the most expensive lot of the evening. The Kinsley reputation must be upheld."
"Okay." I nodded. "And how much does 'the most expensive' usually cost?"
"Last year's finale was a famille-rose vase," he informed me casually. "It went for thirty million."
"Audrey?"
"I see," I finally said.
On the night of the gala, the air was thick with the scent of perfume and the clink of champagne flutes.
Dressed in the custom-made gown the Kinsleys had provided, I felt like a marionette, mechanically smiling and nodding.
My duties were to smile, to nod, and to offer polite greetings and farewells.
As the auction commenced, item after item crossed the block.
Roman sat beside me, the picture of composed assurance.
Finally, the highlight arrived.
"And now, the pièce de résistance!" the auctioneer announced with fervor. "A blue-and-white 'interlocking lotus' moonflask! The bidding will start at ten million!"
The numbers began to climb rapidly.
Twelve million.
Fifteen million.
Twenty million.
Roman leaned toward me, his voice a low murmur. "Audrey, it's time. Bid twenty-five million now. Let's end this."
I picked up my paddle and raised it.
The auctioneer's eyes lit up. "Number 18! Mrs. Kinsley! Twenty-five million!"
All eyes in the room turned toward us.
A faint smile played on Roman's lips.