Page 18 of Filthy Beautiful
I headed back out to the poolhouse. Courteney definitely looked like she was staying put, and if that was the case, she needed to stay the fuck out of my space.
Because as of right now, I was staying put, too.
And that had nothing to do with her and what happened between us in my car, three weeks ago.
Or the way she looked lying on her bed when I burst into her room just now…
There were way more important things at work here.
I sent a text to my long-suffering personal assistant, Jordan, and let her know the update.
Me:I’m staying at Cary’s. Send everything here.
I had a laundry service, grocery delivery, all kinds of shit that Jordan took care of for me, behind-the-scenes, to make my life run smoothly. A simple decision on my part likeI’m staying at Cary’smeant I’d just dumped a bunch of extra work in her lap.
On second thought, I sent another text.
Me:I’ll take you shopping.
Jo replied with an eye-roll emoji.
Of course, I was the one who liked shopping, not her.
Me:Buy you something nice, promise.
The girl might not like clothes as much as I did, but she could be placated with concert tickets. Or a bottle of that coconut rum she loved.
Or both.
I tossed my phone aside. Then I dug carefully through the half-full garbage bags until I found the framed photo of me and my two best friends.
Gabe and Cary. The two friends I’d lost.
One in death.
One in mourning, depression, workaholism…
I put it back on the dresser. The glass had cracked clean through the middle, but I could always get it reframed.
Chapter Three
Courteney
Iwoke up late on Wednesday morning and almost forgot where I was. It was my third day at my brother’s house, and already I’d figured out that there was no reason to set an alarm.
I took my time in the shower. There was no point rushing to start my day, either.
Yes, I was supposed to be “working.” But this job was basically bullshit. Cary had given me literally not one thing to do.
I’d spent Monday settling in and avoiding Xander. He totally hogged the pool area all afternoon. No nasty mankini, but still.
I’d spent most of Tuesday trying to invent things to do, but no one would exactly let me. Rose came to do her weekly cleaning, and I’d had lunch with her, so at least I wasn’t alone all day.
I hadn’t even seen my brother yet.
His staff, who mostly worked remotely and were as invisible as ghosts, were incredibly efficient at their jobs. And way more experienced than me.
Between the security service that monitored the security system and personally checked the grounds once a week, the part-time housekeeper, the part-time groundskeeper, and the team at Little Black Hole—the recording studio my brother owned over in Mount Pleasant—he was pretty damn covered. He didn’t really need an assistant.
