Page 1 of Charming Deception

Prologue

Jameson

I stroll into the luxurious living room of the owner’s suite at the Vance Bayshore resort to find my siblings seated around the coffee table, awaiting me.

Firelight from the hearth flickers across the walls and rain pummels the floor-to-ceiling windows, the waters of Coal Harbour churning beyond, black in the night. “Who died?” I make my way behind the bar. “It’s literally gothic in here.”

“You’re about to,” Harlan growls as I start fixing myself a drink, “if you don’t come sit your ass down.”

“What? I had a thing that ran late.”

Harlan grunts. He reclines in a wingback chair with his feet up on the coffee table, dress shoes and all. In theory, I have three brothers and a sister, but in actuality I have two brothers, a sister, and what appears to be a male human sibling but is probably some sort of demon. “Lemme guess,” Harlan drawls. “The blow job took longer than you expected.”

“It did, actually.”

“I’m right here,” our sister, Savannah, says irritably as I sit down between her and Damian on the curved sofa. The vibe in the room is tense as hell. All my brothers and I wear dark suits, and Savannah wears a black dress.

I’m not even sure what we’re doing here tonight. I just got a call from our grandfather’s attorney, who told me attendance was “mandatory” and that it was “will-related business.” But the last couple of times the five of us met like this had left us all on edge.

One week ago, we’d gathered to celebrate our grandfather’s life and legacy at his funeral, and yesterday, we’d gathered for the reading of his will. Not only had we lost our beloved grandfather and patriarch sooner than we’d hoped, but he’d left us with a surprise in his will: a beneficiary we didn’t even realize was so important to him.

If there was one thing Stoddard Vance taught his grandchildren, it was that you never lay all your cards on the table at once.

Which means… maybe he still has a hand to play.

“Why do I feel like old Stodd’s still playing with us?” Damian muses, voicing my thoughts as Graysen gets to his feet.

“Let’s just get started,” Graysen announces. Even he doesn’t seem thrilled to be here, and he lives here.

“How?” I inquire.

He draws an envelope from inside his jacket. “We have a letter from Granddad.”

“Valerie dropped it off just before you got here,” Savannah fills me in.

Valerie was our grandfather’s longtime secretary and, as we discovered when he was on his deathbed, his lover. Turned out they’d been having a passionate affair for decades. Even before Grandma died.

Granddad’s life was one giant plot twist, even when he was dying. And apparently, Valerie’s still doing his bidding, even from beyond the grave. Just like the rest of us are.

“Valerie said we should read it together, so.” Graysen tears open the envelope, unfolds the letter and reads: “You’re here to play a game.”

Damian smirks and shakes his head. Savannah laughs under her breath. Harlan growls.

But we can’t really be surprised.

Our grandfather was a game master. Lover of sports, competition, fine liquor (and women who organized his calendar for him, evidently). He’d made his first millions off a chain of upscale sports bars, spawning a property development empire that evolved into what Vance Industries is today.

Which is a multi-industry, multibillion-dollar family of companies.

“If you’re reading this letter, I’m dead,” Graysen reads on, kind of sighing at Granddad’s bluntness. “Earlier this year, aware that my remaining time was running short, I met with each of you privately. And I asked you a very important question.” Graysen glances up, his gray eyes sweeping over the rest of us.

Well, shit. I remember that conversation.

“I asked you,” he reads on, “if you could handpick a challenge for one of your siblings, something that would really test what they’re made of, push them to grow, to better themselves, what would it be? Out of those conversations, as you may now be gleaning, such a challenge was devised for each of you by someone else in this room.”

My gaze snags with Harlan’s, and he lazily flips me the finger.

“I asked you to keep that conversation a secret, just between us,” Graysen continues. “I trust that you all did that. And I entrusted my dear Valerie to write down the challenges for me and keep them safe. The five challenges you devised are now contained in five envelopes, one for each of you, located inside the box in front of you.”

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