Page 17 of Shattered Queens: Veronica
“Not at all.” Andrew gets up and walks to the door. “Now, let’s finish the tour and then grab some cake.”
The rest of the day is spent going over my volunteer duties. We went over a community event that’s coming up in a couple of weeks. Other volunteers are helping with children’s services, in the kitchen, and with other administrative tasks. I met some of the families staying here. A woman left her husband while he was at the store buying beer. She took her son, got into her car, and never looked back. I met a young man who left his partner after years of emotional abuse. He stayed because he thought his partner would change.
I’ve never been physically hurt by another person, but I know what it’s like to be someone’s emotional punching bag. You walk around with an internal wound; just when the scab is healing, you pick at it, and it opens up again. It leaves a permanent scar that you try to cover, but it’s always there.
Before I left the office, I emailed Nina that I would be coming back daily to assist with anything that is needed. I’m going to be treating it as a full-time job. I walk into my apartment, which, up until now, I’ve taken for granted. I go to my refrigerator and see it’s empty. Why am I surprised? I pull up the mobile food delivery service, and I decide on some Thai food. I hear my stomach rumble, and my mouth waters. All I had today was coffee and cake at the office. Theo made pasta for everyone, but I was too nervous to eat in front of others, so I made up an excuse not to eat.
Thirty minutes later, my food is delivered. I sit at the kitchen island with the list of properties Andrew gave me, my laptop open with the search bar ready to go, and my food next to me.
I look at the first property, 4184 Bluegrove Avenue. It’s an old apartment complex with eight units. It’s not located on the best side of town, but not the worst. I pull up a couple more. The last one, 1838 Skyhills Drive, is just an empty lot; it’s close to the edge of the city. It’s huge, and I can see the potential for building something from the ground up. I don’t see a listing price on the printout or online. I move my mouse over to the “Contact Agent” tab. Clicking on it, the R. Gomez Real estate logo comes up: Rebecca. As in Rebecca, who helped me with his apartment, Rebecca? I look at the number on the computer screen and pull out my phone. I scroll to her saved contact, and yes, it’s the same person. I press the dial button without thinking twice.
“Ms. Kayde. Hello.”
I guess she also has my phone number saved. “Hi, Becca. I was wondering if you would assist me with some information.”
“Of course. Is everything all right with the apartment?”
“Oh, yes, the apartment is great. It-it’s actually about another property. I saw your contact information for 1838 Skyhills Drive.”
“Let me pull up the property.” I hear her typing. “Oh yes. That property has been on the market for some time. No offers have been accepted.”
That’s shocking. I’m looking at it, and it’s a wonderful location, and the price isn’t an exorbitant amount, but it’s still out of the budget for what I’m looking for. What if I convince the owner? “Rebecca, would you mind putting me in contact with the owner? I know it’s a lot to ask, but this is for a very important project.”
I hear the hesitation in her voice. “I’m not at liberty to disclose that information.”
I need to charm her. “I understand this is out of the ordinary, but I’m looking at properties for Nina’s Hope. This would be such a win for us.”
“I really don’t know if I can help,” she whispers into the phone. I assume so that no one else can hear her.
“Becca, you have a customer for life with me. I promise I will owe you for this.” Not to sound like a fucking celebrity, but having a Kayde on your side is like hitting the lottery. She knows that, and I know that.
With resignation in her voice, she says, “I can’t give you his contact information. What I can tell you is that he also owns the building you are living in.”
“Cam Villanueva?” You’ve got to be kidding me. I don’t give her time to confirm. “Thank you, Becca.”
“You’re welcome, Ms. Kayde. I do hope things work out for you.”
Great, just fucking great. The man is my neighbor, and interacting with him is the equivalent of listening to your least favorite song play as you wait in the DMV. I look at the properties and reconsider my top choices.
After volunteering for a couple of days and looking at multiple properties with Andrew, I keep coming to the same conclusion. I need to swallow my pride, at least in this matter. I pull up my messages and go through them until I find his last message. It’s been weeks, and even though he lives across from me, I can’t bring myself to walk the couple of dozen feet to his front door and knock. So I type a message and push send. Hoping to god I don’t regret this.
Cam
Chapter 10
Another meeting that shouldhave been an email. I can’t stand them. It’s nothing new, at least not for me. It’s just updates letting me know that my company is making profits with the sales of commercial real estate, domestically and internationally. They are trying to expand the Villanueva brand. I choose not to be the acting CEO; I can’t stand being in an office all day. I don’t know how my friends do it. Oh, wait, I do. They have an outlet.
I glance around the room. These people have been with the company for years. That’s what this company was built on—family. My grandfather started this company so that his family would have a legacy. He wanted the Villanuevas to work together and expand the business, and with a reliable team, it has, but not by the family as he wished.
After everyone is done and I thank them, it’s time to leave. The weather in Veridian Bay is getting chillier, especially given that it’s soclose to the ocean. I put on my favorite pair of sunglasses and head to my lunch appointment. I hear my phone vibrate with an alert. Shock is an understatement because Veronica Kayde is sending Cam Villanueva a message. Holy shit, hell did freeze over.
She is living in my building, and although she doesn’t believe me, I offered to help because of her family. Our grandfathers were close friends; it was actually hers who helped mine start the business. Her brother is my best friend. We met when my parents decided Veridian Bay would be a good place to settle and grow a family. My father wanted me to be enrolled in the most prestigious school, which is where Gabe and Ian attended. That was the thing about my father—he always put on a guise. From the outside looking in, you wouldn’t have known things were falling apart.
So if my best friends’ annoying little sister needs a place to live and I can help, why not? Even though said sister hates my guts, and why wouldn’t she? I don’t make it easy for people to like me. I prefer it that way.
I look at the text message. She’s asking if I can stop by her apartment tomorrow afternoon. I scoff. Last time I showed up at her apartment, she slammed the door in my face and took the fucking cake I’d bought myself.
After she realized I was her new neighbor, I decided to take a walk around the block and saw that my favorite bakery, Olga’s, was open. I went in and helped myself to a slice of tres leches cake, and I got a chocolate slice to go. When I returned to my apartment, I figured I’d give it to her as a peace offering; it’s one of her favorites after all.
