Chapter 70: [2.43] The Abduction of Assistant-kun
My phone buzzed. Then buzzed again. Then started vibrating continuously like it was having a seizure.
Iris had discovered that I hadn’t responded in over thirty minutes.
Iris: HELLO????
Iris: ARE YOU DEAD
Iris: DID THE RICH PEOPLE EAT YOU
Iris: ZAY I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DONT ANSWER
Iris: I’m calling the police
Iris: Actually I’m calling Mrs. Delgado first because she’s scarier than the police
Iris: ISAIAH MARCUS ANGELO
Iris: That’s it I’m filing a missing persons report
Iris: Wait you’re typing
Iris: FINALLY
Iris: I need photos
Iris: Of the rich people habitat
Iris: I need to show Sarah
Iris: She doesn’t believe
that you work for the Valentine family
Iris: She said I’m lying
Iris: Prove her wrong
Iris: ZAY
Iris: THE PHOTOS
Iris: NOW
I stood up from the bed and walked to the bathroom, snapping a photo that captured the massive tub, the rain shower, and the heated towel racks in one fra. I sent it to Iris with a simple caption.
Isaiah: This is bigger than your bedroom.
The response was imdiate.
Iris: WHAT
Iris: NO
Iris: THATS A BATHROOM???
Iris: I COULD FIT MY ENTIRE ROOM IN THAT TUB
Iris: Actually I could fit my entire LIFE in that tub
Iris: Is that a WATERFALL????
Isaiah: Apparently.
Iris: I hate you
Iris: Send more
I took a few more photos. The bedroom with its ridiculous bed. The sitting area with the fireplace. The mini-fridge contents. Each image prompted a new explosion of ssages from my sister, ranging from jealous outrage to demands that I adopt her so she could live there too.
Isaiah: You realize I don’t actually live here, right? This is just for the weekend.
Iris: DON’T RUIN THIS FOR
Iris: Let
have my fantasies
A knock at the door saved
from having to navigate that particular minefield.
"Co in," I called, assuming it was Mrs. Tanaka with so additional instructions or schedule updates.
The door burst open like a SWAT team making entry.
Harlow Valentine stood in the doorway, her twin tails replaced by a ssy bun held together with what looked like a chopstick. She wore an oversized t-shirt featuring a magical girl ani character I vaguely recognized, the hem falling to mid-thigh over a pair of tiny shorts that were barely visible beneath the fabric. Pink fuzzy socks covered her feet, each one with a different cartoon cat face on the toe.
This was not the Valentine heiress the public saw in magazines and Instagram posts. This was Harlow in her natural habitat. Full gremlin mode.
"Assistant-kun!" She bounced into the room without waiting for an invitation, her eyes scanning every surface like a detective arriving at a cri scene. "Wow, Vivi gave you the good guest room! This is where we put people we actually like!"
"As opposed to?"
"The west wing guest rooms. Those are for business people and distant relatives we’re obligated to host. Much smaller. No fireplace." She made a face. "Also haunted."
"Haunted."
"Probably. I heard weird noises coming from there once." She dismissed this apparently serious concern with a wave of her hand. "Anyway! I’m here to collect you for dinner but we have like fifteen minutes so I wanted to see your room first!"
She spun in a circle, taking in the full suite with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever encountering a new park. Her gaze lingered on the bathroom doorway, and she gasped.
"Is that the tub with the waterfall? I keep asking Mom if we can get one but she says it’s unnecessary because we have the onsen." She pouted. "The onsen is OUTDOORS though. Sotis I just want to soak without getting rained on, you know?"
I did not know. I had never considered outdoor versus indoor soaking tub preferences to be a aningful life concern.
Harlow continued her investigation, opening closet doors and peering inside drawers. I didn’t stop her because, honestly, what was I going to do? Tell the billionaire heiress to stop touching things in her own family’s house?
Her exploration brought her to the luggage stand where my overnight bag sat, now deflated and sad after I’d unpacked its ager contents.
Harlow’s hand reached toward it, then froze.
"Wait."
She picked up the empty canvas duffel and turned to face , her purple eyes wide with confusion.
"This is ALL you brought? For the whole weekend?"
I shrugged. "Yeah. Three shirts, two pants. Everything I need."
Her expression shifted. The bubbly enthusiasm drained away, replaced by sothing I could only describe as horrified determination. It was the face of soone who had just witnessed a grievous wrong and had decided, in that very mont, to dedicate their life to correcting it.
"No."
"No?"
"No. Absolutely not. This is unacceptable."
"It’s fine, Harlow. I don’t need much."
She set the bag down with more force than necessary. "You’re staying in OUR house. As OUR guest. OUR employee. And you packed like you’re going to a funeral you don’t want to attend."
"That’s oddly specific."
"Isaiah." She planted herself directly in front of , hands on her hips, chin tilted up so she could et my eyes. This close, I could sll strawberries and sothing sweeter. "You have one duffel bag. ONE. I brought more luggage than that to sumr camp when I was twelve. For a WEEK. And half of it was stuffed animals."
"I’m not twelve. And I don’t have stuffed animals."
Her eyes widened further. "You don’t have ANY stuffed animals?"
"Why would I have stuffed animals?"
"For COMFORT! For HUGGING when you’re sad! For sitting on your bed looking cute!" She threw her hands up. "What kind of life are you living over there in Philadelphia?"
A tired one. A poor one. One where stuffed animals ranked approximately seven hundred positions below food and rent on the priority list.
But I didn’t say any of that.
Harlow grabbed my wrist before I could form a response. Her hand was warm, her grip surprisingly strong for soone who spent her days designing costus and taking Instagram photos.
"We’re fixing this. Right now."
"Fixing what? It’s almost dinner ti."
"Dinner can wait! Your tragic lack of weekend supplies cannot!"
She yanked
toward the door with the force of a small hurricane. I stumbled after her, my brain still processing the fact that I was being abducted by a girl wearing cat socks.
"Harlow, I really don’t need—"
"You need MANY things, Assistant-kun. And I’m going to make sure you get ALL of them."
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