Page 57 of Wicked Heiress

I was pissed at first about my grandfather changing my name. But after I left town with the Colonel, I felt a sense of relief. My last name and family didn’t follow me from city to city. I could move across the country with my new dad and live a normal life.

Until now.

As we entered the ballroom, I spotted Cole standing by the bar with his cousin, Drake Battle. They drank amber liquid from glasses, talking to a group of guys.

“Go say hello,” Willow suggested, tapping me on the back. “I have to find Mark. We’ll join you soon.”

At least two hundred people filled the space. In a house this size, it didn’t seem that claustrophobic. But I wasn’t used to being around so many people.

I wasn’t used to people.

Period.

“Hey, princess.” Rhys curled his long fingers around my arm and pulled me into his chest. “Where are you going?”

I looked at his bruised skin that darkened around his eyes and right cheek. His split lip looked like it would gush at any second. Cole messed him up, and I was glad because I wanted to set him on fire.

Rhys tightened his grip when I ignored him and tried to walk away. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

Shooting him a nasty look, I swatted at his hand. “Take a hint, Rhys. I don’t want to talk to you. Not after everything you’ve done to me.”

He breathed bourbon in my face. “You’re going to be mine. Stop fighting the inevitable.”

I snorted at his comment. “Never gonna happen.”

Rhys dipped his head down so his lips almost touched my cheek. “Wait until the old man makes it official.” He laughed. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

COLE

I downed the contents of my glass and nodded at the bartender for another. My eyes moved to Grace, who looked gorgeous in a strapless red dress. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and giggled as Bastian told her a joke.

Most men in the room were The Devil’s Knights or The Founders Society members. I caught plenty of guests’ gazes darting in her direction. They wanted a good look at the only granddaughter of Fitzgerald Archibald Adams IV. This was Grace’s first time in the spotlight.

“Fitzy invited The Founders and The Devil’s Knights,” I said to Drake, glancing at Grace. “She might be his heir, but Fitzy hates her. This could be another one of his punishments.”

Drake raised a glass of scotch to his mouth. “Fitzy is up to something. I overheard him talking to Carl Wellington about the flight that killed Bastian and Damian’s parents.”

“Probably arguing over shares of Atlantic Airlines.”

“Maybe.” He took another sip. “But it sounded more intense than shares in a company.” Drake leaned into my arm and lowered his voice, “After this is over, we need to talk. Viktor made contact earlier.”

My eyes widened. “Yeah?”

‘This is good for Grace,” he said with a nod. “I’ll explain later.”

I spotted Fitzy moving through the crowd, which parted for him. Everyone wanted to steal a second of his time. He was a powerful man and the richest in the world. The Adams family owned banks, railroads, tech companies, and dozens of holding companies. They were once governors, senators, and even presidents. He ignored those who attempted to gain his attention, eyes fixed on Grace.

His target.

As Fitzy looked at her, hatred scrolled across his face. Despite his age, the old man looked at least twenty years younger. His skin was nearly free of wrinkles, and his hair was without an ounce of gray. I often wondered if he was a cyborg.

Fitzy didn’t seem like a real person.

He didn’t act like one, either.

“Gentleman,” he said to the group, tugging at his cufflinks. “Staying out of trouble, I hope.”

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