Page 7 of Wicked Heiress

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “At least we have one thing in common.”

I let his words linger as we headed toward our next destination. Did we have other things in common?

I doubted it.

Cole had a normal life with friends and a real family. His father wasn’t a terrorist, a painful fact that haunted me.

Am I like him?

Am I evil, too?

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Cole said, returning my attention to him. “I’m usually one of two places—the library or the game room.”

He pushed open the door to the game room.

Like the rest of the house, it was equally impressive. They had every video game ever invented. Flat screens hung on the walls with video game consoles and controllers scattered around the room. A sectional couch that could fit thirty people comfortably sat at the center of the room. They even had a bar with stools that took up half a wall.

On our way to the West Wing, we passed the great room. I glanced at the spot my grandfather stood when I met the Marshalls. I was so relieved to be rid of him.

Before I left my adoptive father, he hugged me and said, “It’s only temporary, Gracie. You’re a strong woman. You can survive a few months without me.”

“But how do I survive him?” I tipped my head at my grandfather, who waited inside the limousine impatiently.

“He won’t hurt you,” he assured me. “There’s a reason the old man has kept you around this long.”

No one knew why, though. That was the billion-dollar question. My cousin Bastian was older than me and should have been in the line of succession. But for some reason, Fitzy chose me.

I snapped out of my thoughts as we approached the natatorium, an enclosed pool house larger than the one at my father’s last duty station.

“When my friends come over,” Cole said as he held the door open for me to see into the room, “we usually hang out here. Everyone in town wants an invite to Fort Marshall.” He gave me a cocky smirk. “I’m known for having legendary parties.”

I’d never been to a party or had friends. My family kept me sheltered from the outside world, fearful of my biological father finding me.

After leaving the natatorium, we stopped at the scullery, which Cole explained was a butler’s kitchen. They also had an entire room dedicated to the pantry, hidden behind a paneled wall with enough food to feed an army.

“There are other kitchens in the house,” Cole told me. “The chefs need room to work without us in the way.”

“Because one kitchen isn’t enough?” I laughed. “My last house had a galley kitchen that barely fit two people.”

His smile stirred something strange inside me. Desire, maybe? I’d never been this close to a man who looked like Cole. My adoptive father made sure I had no dating life and no friends.

He was all I ever had.

All I ever needed.

“This place might seem like a maze at first, but you’ll get used to it.”

I peeked up at him. “I may need you to draw me a map.”

He winked. “I’m an engineer. That I can do.”

On our way through the house, Cole pushed on walls, twisted candlesticks, and even hit a button on a fireplace to show me the secret passages built into the house.

“My ancestors were paranoid,” Cole said. “Evan Marshall built this house during Prohibition. He was a big whiskey drinker and refused to give up his vice. That’s how my family got close to the Salvatores. They were alcohol smugglers back then with ties to the Italian Mafia. My grandfather never went without his whiskey because of Angelo Salvatore.”

The Salvatores adopted my cousin Bastian. Like me, he’d lost his parents at a young age and temporarily lived with my grandfather before escaping his wrath. Tragedy seemed to follow the Adams family. We were cursed despite having so much wealth.

Cole guided me to the left, and we ascended the stairs. “There are five founding families of Devil’s Creek.”

---