At twelve, she got the message when finally, I’d placed a baby picture of her in nothing but her birthday suit on the bulletin board of our middle school. She’d never told Mom, who sure enough, would have grounded me for a lifetime for being mean to my sister, as she called Kenzie. That was the day that I continued to ignore her, and she started to act as if I was just a necessary evil in our family.
But there was one thing in regard to Kenzie I had not expected. At fifteen, she left for the summer with her biological mom’s parents, looking like a kid. She, however, came home three months later with everything a young man finds attractive. She’d even ditched the glasses for contacts and had started putting a little effort into her appearance. My friends salivated over the girl who was always a nerd. Having her face buried in a book, reciting every element of the periodic table or world capitals were just some of the nuances that bugged me. It became apparent of my friends’ intentions at the mention of hanging out at my house. They’d always avoided my home because of Kenz, but they only wanted to come here in their teens, for one reason. I put a stop to the shit before they could fill Kenzie’s head with the fact that she was indeed hot. I wasn’t blind. I knew a hot girl, but Kenzie didn’t have to know she was sought after like the popular girls in our school.
Every single suitor had to come through me. It was a known thing. I do, after all, own the title of King Asshole for a reason. But Kenz’s mind is always focused on academics. She doesn’t realize how many guys want her. Yeah, too bad for her. And somehow, knowing my sister is a virgin gets me hard in ways it shouldn’t. Not for a geek like Kenz.
My text alert starts going off. I try to ignore it because it can only be one of two people. It also happens to be the two most annoying gnats in my life. Just for shits and giggles, I tilt my phone to read whatever either has to say, groaning but also laughing at the way I have Kenz programmed into my cell.
Nerd: Where are you? Isaiah claims he has to go over shit from the estate with us. We might as well get it over with. I assume we’ll just live at home, for the time being, until college. I guess we’re going to need some sort of allowance.
I groan again. Of course, Isaiah will be over this shit. Knowing Dad, he gave him guardianship of Kenz and me to his best friend. But, now that we’re eighteen, he can’t rule us. Mom and Dad’s house is paid off, and they weren’t hurting for money. They hadn’t been billionaire-level status like the ogre asshole, but they had done well.
My finger trails over the keypad of my messaging function, about to tell Kenz to share with Isaiah—to go get fucked, when the following text comes in.
The name, Douche Bag Asshole, lights up my screen, and now he’s located me.
Douche Bag Asshole: Get your ass back to my house. I have to go over the estate with you. And I know you’re a troublemaker, but make no mistake, I can fuck up your life, so there’s that. I expect you to be here in the next half hour, or you’ll regret it.
The man is narcissistic enough to use the death of my parents to his advantage. It’s one reason I hate Isaiah Woods, having nothing to do with the other reason I have yet to share with another soul. Only he and I know what it is, and that’s how it’ll remain.
I don’t, however, in this instance, have an upper hand to play. Isaiah knows it, and I’m beaten.
Me: Yeah, fuckface, I’m on my way.
And because I’m a glutton for punishment, I replay in my mind—the real reason we’re mortal enemies. And fuck does it hurt.
Isaiah’s house isn’t just a house. It’s a mansion, with one of his servants pulling back the front door for me upon exiting the Uber. His home is already decorated for Christmas. But I’m not festive. As a matter of fact, all the decorations of Mom’s, I’m tossing in the trash cans and could give a fuck what Kenzie thinks about it.
“Mr. Hanson, Mr. Woods is expecting you. He’s in his study with your sister.”
She’s not my fucking sister—is what is on the tip of my tongue, but I refrain from anything that could bring the fury of Isaiah down on me.
“Thank you. I’ll see my way there.” I know the layout of his house, probably better than I should. It’s not a stuffy mansion; though there’s very little life, you wouldn’t know someone was living here. Everything is white, with no personal effects on the walls.
My mom had pictures of Kenzie and me hung throughout the house. She had artwork from kindergarten displayed like we were fucking Picasso. And she always had plants and flowers around us. Partially because Dad was such a sap when it came to her. He brought home fresh flowers each week, and every time, she reacted as if she were shocked by one of his many forms of affection.
The point: our house was lived in. It was undoubtedly never messy—Mom wouldn’t have that—but still, it was full of love and devotion for one another. Unless you’re talking about Kenzie and me, and well, we were never one for affection for the other.
I round the stark hallway corner to the very white office, with, of course, white furnishings in the space. “Ah, good, you joined us. Have a seat, why don’t you. We have a lot to discuss.” The voice of the asswipe has no emotions behind it.
“Yeah, I’m sure we do. So, what aspect of this estate are you going to try to control?” I slide in next to Kenzie on the love seat across from Isaiah.
My eyes stay transfixed on his mouth as it turns upward into a large grin. I’ve rarely seen the guy smile unless he’d been with my dad talking about sports. This is as if he’s about to enjoy crushing my world, and because he’s done it once, I can sense the signs.
Isaiah lets out a long and loud breath. “It just so happens, your dad made me executor of the estate, and in that way, I’m responsible for you financially until you’re able to gain control over your inheritance.”
“Wait.” Kenzie leans forward. “Mom and Dad weren’t like you, but they’d been well off. Why do we need your money?”
He steeples his hands together. “Ah, you misunderstood me. It’s your money. But Robert didn’t want to give two eighteen year olds half a million dollars each. He’s asked me to monitor it, allowing you both a monthly allotment, and of course, college will be paid for.”
Sure, the man will have ties to us financially, but I’ll work with the small amount of money we’ll be given to live on each month since not only is he rich as fuck, he’s stingy, too.
“Okay, that’s not so bad. Can the estate pay for the utilities of the house until we leave for college?” Kenzie begins. “The house is paid off. Both of our cars are paid for. Besides food and clothes, and car insurance, we should be okay.”
Her head whips to mine as if it’s a question to me and needs validation. “I guess it depends on what the jackass gives us, really,” I reply to Kenz, and it’s the first conversation we’ve had since before Mom and Dad died.
“About the house,” Isaiah begins. “I’ve had my realtor look it over. The market is on such a great climb; we expect it to even out in the next couple of months. But you two could get almost three hundred thousand dollars more if you sell now. It’s a great opportunity.”
Now the man sounds like the typical it’s all about the bottom line kind of ass he is.