Page 14 of The Auction
Jonathan takes a seat behind the desk and gestures toward the chair across from him.
I drop into it, sprawling like I own the place. “So, what’s the emergency? You finally need a tech guy to fix your printer?”
Jonathan doesn’t rise to it.
“I’m headed to the UK in a few days. Might be gone a few weeks.”
“Fancy CEO shit?” I ask, propping one ankle over my knee.
“London arbitration.”
“Sounds miserable.”
“It is.”
He opens a drawer and pulls out a stack of paperwork, sets it aside, and then finally looks at me.
“I need you to keep an eye on the house—on Cassidy while I’m gone.”
“Excuse me?”
Jonathan’s gaze stays fixed on the decanter as he pours himself a drink. Doesn’t even bother looking at me when he says, “Cassidy. Keep an eye on her while I’m gone.”
“No, I heard you.” I narrow my eyes. “Just trying to figure out why you think your grown sister needs a babysitter?”
“She’s been getting… reckless.”
I huff a laugh. “Cassidy?”
“She’s acting out,” he continues, voice flat. “Showing up late. Picking fights. Getting mouthy with people who don’t deserve it.”
I lean against the wall, arms crossed. “So… like she always has?”
Jonathan finally looks up at me, his expression unreadable. “I don’t want this stress falling on Mom. She doesn’t need any more of it.”
“And what exactly do you think I’m going to do? Ground her?”
“She listens to you more than she does me.”
I bark a short laugh. “She also can’t stand the sight of me. So if this is your plan for peace and quiet, you’ve officially lost it.”
Jonathan just takes another sip like he’s already somewhere else.
“She respects you,” he says flatly. “Even when she’s pissed.”
“That’s generous. She growls when I breathe too loud.” I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. “So what’s this really about? You scared she’s going to throw a rager while you’re gone?”
He cuts me a look over the rim of his glass. “I’m asking you to keep an eye on her. Stop by and check on mom and the house a few times. That’s all.”
“But why?” I press, my voice light, curious. “She’s not a kid. She’s a grown woman. Doesn’t exactly need a leash.”
I narrow my eyes, straightening off the wall. “She’s not stupid, Jonathan.”
“I didn’t say she was.” His tone sharpens just enough to warn me off. “I said she’s being impulsive. And that’s a risk I won’t leave unattended—not with Mom in the condition she’s in.”
I let the silence stretch a beat too long, then shrug. “Fine. I’ll babysit. But when she figures it out, I’m not stepping in when she starts swinging.”
“I trust you’ll manage.”
