A Fake Heiress’s Guide to Love and Power novel Chapter 17

"Need a hand?"

"No, no, it's fine. Just dry these off and pack up the leftovers—I don't want you getting soaked again." Brendan scooped the last of the wraps into his bag and shoved the empty container and cup into Alessia's hands.

"Go on upstairs, let your mom know what's going on."

Alessia nodded and headed up, quickly explaining everything to Karen.

But instead of scolding Alessia for acting on her own, Karen looked anxious and excited all at once. She spun around the kitchen twice, already thinking about making more, but for a moment, she was so flustered she didn't know where to start.

"Mom, I'll leave you to it. I'm going to talk to Ivan about the room arrangements."

"Good girl, go ahead." By now, Karen was too distracted to hear anything else. Alessia just shook her head, smiling, and walked toward Ivan's room.

She knocked—just like always—half-expecting no answer and already reaching for the doorknob herself, when the handle turned from the inside.

Looking down, she saw Ivan's small face peeking out through the crack.

"I need to talk to you. Is now a good time?" He was only eight, but Alessia didn't bother with the sing-song tone adults usually used with kids; she spoke to him as an equal.

This kid was the same age as the younger Tate boy, but their personalities couldn't have been more different.

Ivan stayed silent, but after opening the door, he went straight back to the little corner he'd claimed. Alessia noticed a brand-new can of paint in his hand—he must have gotten up to fetch it and just happened to answer the door.

Even now, the Mortons did everything they could to meet the boy's needs.

"I'm going to split my room into two zones," Alessia began. "You'll have the inside area—it's quieter, full of sunlight, perfect for painting. I'll take the outside part, and I won't bother you while you work. How does that sound?"

Ivan glanced up at her, then looked down again, fiddling with his paints.

"Okay, go back to your painting. I'll sort out the room and call you when it's ready."

She left without waiting for a reply. Ivan sat staring at his half-finished painting, unmoving for a long moment.

Once everything was arranged, Alessia surveyed the room, sketched out a rough layout in her mind, then snapped a photo of her plans and sent it along with a list of supplies to Cole.

Cole was quick to respond; he'd said it would take an hour, but less than thirty minutes later, a whole crew of workers was hauling equipment upstairs.

Alessia had already let everyone know, so when Brendan heard the knock at the door, he didn't hesitate to open it. He'd expected some regular contractors, but when he saw who it was, he froze, disbelief flickering in his eyes.

"Jus—Justin Keane?"

"Good afternoon. Is Miss Alessia Tate home?" The man in front wore a simple white tee and jeans, topped with a linen cap—understated, but somehow effortlessly stylish.