Page 8 of King of Players

“But the last time she and Wyatt stayed; it was a month.”

“They were together. Let’s hope this one’s a brief visit.”

Even Miriam couldn’t hide her frustration as she sighed. “Alright. Well, I guess the purple room suits her personality.”

“Do whatever you see fit. I honestly don’t care. All I care about is that Wyatt knows that we’re taking care of family and that we didn’t leave his fiancée alone in the city. It’s not a good look.”

“Of course.” She shifted in readiness to leave.

I grabbed her arm, “Miriam, hold on. I—I want you to make sure the study’s locked after each cleaning.”

“Of course.”

“Nobody goes in there but you and I, understood? All of my personal documents are in there, and they’re not Vera’s concern. Am I clear?”

“Of course!”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll go make sure the room’s ready by the end of the party, in case she decides to stay tonight.”

“Yes, perfect. Thanks.”

When I stepped back outside, I was told that Chad and his friend had collected nearly a million dollars in donations. My mind was blown, since not a single guest of mine had ever persuaded people to donate that much with such dedication before.

“Are you sure he’s not a close friend of yours?” Vera suddenly materialized out of thin air.

“Uh—What? Who?”

“Chad Niles?” She pointed with the drink in her hand. “He and his friend have been relentlessly circulating. They even came to me.”

My smile held a little sarcasm. “And how much did you give?”

“Five thousand.”

“Thank you.” You stingy little heiress. Vera had a multimillion-pound inheritance, yet all she could spare was five thousand dollars. No wonder she and Wyatt were so compatible.

“Kaira?” Chad came to my rescue—wasn’t it ironic that of all people, he was my savior now? “What’s this I hear of your bar not serving Jäger?”

“W—What?”

“Jäger?”

A titter escaped my lips. “Uh—Mr. Niles, this is a fundraiser… a benefit. Not a rave.”

“What, so people can’t feel generous on a little bit of Jäger? C’mon. That defies the purpose.”

My eyes widened as I saw his blonde friend enthusiastically nod, standing next to him. “My aim is not to get everyone drunk—”

“No?” He dipped his head, suspiciously staring at me from under his eyebrows. “Where’s the pleasure in that?”

“The pleasure is in spending a good evening talking to your friends, catching up—”

“Might as well serve Diet Coke and tea, don’t you think?”

“C’mon, Chad,” his friend said as she tugged on his arm with both hands like a child. “We’ve raised enough. Let’s go someplace we can dance!”

My eyes quietly examined her and then went back to him. He didn’t seem embarrassed or ashamed of his friend’s behavior. If anything, he appeared proud of his conquest. “Yeah, let’s go.”

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