Traded by Lisa Suzanne
CHAPTER 10
It’s absolutely shocking (in no way at all) that Jack drives like a maniac as I try to follow him back to the house where I’ll be living for the next ten months. Thank God Lily texted me the address, because he loses me pretty much right away and I’m forced to rely on the GPS. Going forward, apparently I’ll need to either drive him where he needs to go or be in the car with him when we’re going somewhere.
I pick option one. I do value my life, after all.
I turn into the gated community and punch the gate code Lily sent into the little lockbox. The gate opens and I navigate through a neighborhood filled with mansions toward the one I’ll be living in. I spot a nice view of Las Vegas Boulevard just twenty minutes down the road as I come up over a hill, and then my GPS tells me I have arrived.
I turn in and find another gate, and I press a button on one of the two openers Calvin handed me. This one opens the gate, and the other opens the garage. I’m not sure if I should park in the garage and just walk into the house or park in the driveway and use the front door the first time. It’s not like they aren’t expecting me, but still—it feels awkward to just barge in.
I don’t even know where to bring my very out of place Kia to a stop in the long driveway. I creep up toward the front door and put it in park. There are plenty of other things to stress over that don’t include a freaking driveway parking space.
I get out of the car and stare at the front of the house for a beat. I draw in a deep breath as I take in the splendor of this home...this mansion. Palm trees line the fancy entry that guests typically would use, and I have to remind myself that I’m not a guest here.
This is home now.
I walk up to the front door and knock a few times, but nobody comes to answer.
I knock a little louder.
Still nothing.
I try the bell.
A minute later, Jack appears. How freaking fast did he drive to not only arrive before me, but to be inside the house with the garage door already closed?
“For Christ’s sake, Kia, don’t you know you’re not supposed to ring a doorbell at a house with a baby inside?” he says in greeting.
My eyes widen and I cover my mouth with my hand. He’s grumpy, but I did just ring the doorbell and maybe they just got their baby down for a nap and oh shit this not a good way to start my first day here. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“Of course you didn’t,” some woman says curtly as she appears behind him. She’s glamorous and gorgeous with a long curtain of dark hair and flashing dark eyes. She’s wearing a low-cut, tight black shirt that shows off her slim figure paired with leggings that show off her tiny ass.
My immediate first impression is that she gives off this air like she’s better than everybody else and I should feel privileged to share space in the same vicinity as her. I’m not quite convinced of that just yet. “Thank God Brooke’s up there with JJ now.”
Brooke?
JJ?
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
An older woman with silver feathered hair and a warm smile appears behind the glamorous woman. “You must be Kathryn,” she says, and clearly these people were expecting me but I have no idea what Jack told them about why I’m actually here.
“Just call her Kia,” Jack says, and I shoot him a glare.
“It’s Kate, actually,” I correct him, and he just smirks at me.
“I’m sure Jack and Michelle have already given you a warm welcome, but I’d also like to welcome you aboard. I’m Brenda, and I’m around a few times a week to cook and clean. If you need anything at all, just put it on the grocery list on the clipboard in the laundry room.”
“And don’t touch my orange Gatorade,” Jack says.
“Or my Diet Pepsi,” the woman I assume is Michelle says.
“Nice to meet you, Brenda.” I offer a small smile and glance at Jack. “I’m more of a Coke kinda gal anyway,” I say.
Brenda laughs, Jack huffs, and Michelle narrows her eyes.
“We haven’t been formally introduced,” I say to Michelle, sticking out my hand in a friendly hey let’s shake on it since we’re going to be living together sort of way. “I’m Kate.”
“Mm,” she says, pursing her lips, and then she spins and walks out of the room. It’s in that moment that it hits me.
Was this the girlfriend he kicked me out for after he screwed me on a couch in a nightclub?
Does she somehow recognize me? Did Jack tell her about us? Is that why she was just so rude to me?
Jack leaves the room in the opposite direction from her, and then it’s just Brenda and me standing in entryway as I clutch my laptop bag, my purse, and one of my overnight bags. “Let me show you around,” she says. We head upstairs and past the first two rooms, which Brenda points out as the baby’s nursery and Brooke’s room. She shows me my room, too, where I drop my bags, along with additional bedrooms that separate our side of the house from the master suite. Brenda nods toward them but doesn’t take me in.
The house has a total of seven bedrooms and eleven bathrooms. I want to stay and explore my bedroom with attached bathroom and walk-in closet, but I’m sure I’ll have time later.
She continues the tour around the first floor where we see a movie room, a library, two offices—presumably a his and a hers, a dining room with an interesting full-sized wine refrigerator, a massive kitchen, a formal living room, a family room, and about a million other rooms.
According to Brenda, in the interest of full disclosure she points out where video cameras are located in each room and lets me know which are for security and which are for the baby monitor, not that I’ll ever remember.
We step outside into a backyard oasis with a pool, waterslides, waterfalls, and palm trees along with a full-sized basketball court and an entire two-bedroom guest house that’s bigger than my parents’ house in Kansas. Landscape lights line walking paths all around the yard, and there’s enough space back here to take a walk without ever having to leave the grounds.
I can’t decide if that’s amazing or a tad bit institutional.
Brenda is kind if a tad on the gossipy side, but it’ll be nice to see at least one friendly face around here a few times a week. She fills me in on the basics, and I quickly learn that JJ, or Jack Alexander Dalton Junior, is the son Jack shares with Michelle, Brooke is the nanny, Michelle used to date Jack’s brother, and Jack’s brother used to be married to another of Jack’s exes.
It’s quite the little spider web.
She doesn’t comment on the actual state of their relationship, but if Jack was screwing girls in nightclubs as little as five months ago, I definitely have some questions.
It’s when we’re outside away from all those video monitors that she spills a bit of tea. “Between the two of us, Michelle can be a handful, but so can Jack. You get two personalities like theirs together and you’re bound to see some fireworks. But Calvin is intent on keeping his daughter happy. He wants to ensure his daughter is with the right man and that his grandson has a father he can look up to. I think that’s why he brought Jack in from Denver. And I really think Jack has potential—in fact, he’s a wonderful father to that sweet four-month-old boy, but he’s just gotten a little off course lately. It probably has to do with his father.” She whispers that last part a little dramatically, and I have no idea what went down with his father.
And also...she mentioned Calvin’s daughter twice in that little spiel.
Who the hell is Calvin’s daughter?
“Calvin’s daughter?” I ask, using that as the starting point to the millions of questions her words raised.
Her brows dip a little. “Oh, you don’t know? His daughter is Michelle.”
Michelle?
Michelle-Michelle, like as in the rude lady inside who’s engaged to Jack?
So let me get this straight.
I’m working with a man I had a tryst with on a couch in a nightclub who kicked me out when his apparently pregnant girlfriend showed up after someone snapped a photo of us that turned into a viral meme, and now I get to live with him and his evil fiancée and his four-month-old baby and shadow him everywhere he goes while said evil fiancée’s father pays me a quarter of a million dollars over the next ten months?
Well that’s a twist I didn’t see coming.
