Page 64 of Wicked Heiress

Rhys brushed his thumb over my cheek. “I’ll be right back. Remember what I said earlier.”

He disappeared into the crowd, leaving me alone with his parents.

Remington grabbed Grayson by the shoulder. “We’ll give you two a moment.” He steered his youngest son toward the bar without another word.

Helena sipped from the champagne flute, inspecting my face. “My Rhys is a good boy,” she said after a moment of silence. “He does whatever his mother tells him.” She slid her hand beneath my jaw to get a better look at me, her cold, blue eyes hardened into slits. “You’re a beautiful girl. The perfect trophy wife for my Rhys.” Her hand dropped to her side. “But I hear you’re a troublemaker. You do whatever is necessary to get what you want.”

“That’s not true,” I said to defend myself. “Your son used me.”

“He was only doing what he was told,” she lilted. “Rhys played his part perfectly. This is the result we expected. And if you do anything to mess with my plans, you will pay for it.”

Rhys said his dad was the manipulator, but maybe the real mastermind of this family was his mother. She was cunning and cruel, the love child of Cruella de Vil and Voldemort. I could see why Rhys was so fucked up. His parents were terrible people and didn’t have good intentions.

Rhys reappeared seconds later with a fresh glass of champagne for his mother and a plate of canapés. “I thought you might be hungry. You always work up an appetite when you’re scheming.”

They were so messed up.

She took the drink and appetizers with a glowing smile. “So thoughtful, my dear boy. Always thinking of your mother’s needs.”

Vomit.

My mother died before I could form a real relationship with her. But I couldn’t recall her ever acting so strange. You would have thought Helena had a thing for her oldest son.

Maybe she had a Jocasta complex, which would have made Rhys Oedipus. I’d read that in high school and got sickened by the thought of a son marrying his mother. Helena could have her son because I didn’t want his lying, traitorous ass.

* * *

After the party ended, my grandfather pulled me into the great room by my arm. His fingers created a thick rope of red marks on my skin. When he treated me this way, I felt like the scared girl he dragged from the wreckage of my old life.

“If you think about messing with my plans,” Grandfather said with a cold stare aimed at me, “I’ll kill your boyfriend and his family.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I choked out, startled by his word choice.

“I heard the story from Rhys,” he said as he inched toward me like a hunter about to seize prey. “He told me every dirty detail about you and Cole Marshall. Everything you did this summer. You’re disgusting.” He shook his head. “Filthy animals, all of you. Corrupted by the Devil.”

Bile rose from my stomach, and I had to cover my mouth so I didn’t puke on the floor at his feet. Whenever he was around, my insides turned to slush.

“You are your mother’s daughter,” he said in a nasty tone, his top lip curled up in disgust. “She was a whore, too. I had to clean up her messes. Abigail was simple-minded and liked to party. She threw herself at that conman you call a father.” His nose scrunched. “Then she came to me with the horrible news that she was pregnant with you. I told her to get an abortion, but did she listen?” He shook his head. “No, of course not. She kept you and married that thief.”

Tears welled in my bottom lids, and I desperately struggled to hold them back. Grandfather hated weakness. He didn’t tolerate crying or any behavior that he deemed inappropriate.

Like having feelings.

So I sucked down the anxiety spreading up my throat and bit back the tears. Standing straighter, I held my chin higher. He would only get meaner if I caused a scene. And God forbid I talked back.

“The past is repeating itself,” he continued, his voice deep and angrier. “You gave your virginity to Cole Marshall on an old mattress in a safe house with Rhys beside you.” He nearly spat on me as he spoke. “I gave the Marshall boys strict orders not to touch you. And what did he do? Defiled my good-for-nothing granddaughter. You’re a disgrace to my name. How dare you embarrass me like this?”

“It’s not Cole’s fault. Don’t take this out on him.”

Grandfather’s palm crashed into my cheek, knocking me backward. I tripped, staggering into a table. Thankfully, I turned my body just enough to fall onto the couch. The soft fabric brushed against my cheek, and my lips stung from how hard he hit me.

“Get up, you stupid slut,” Grandfather seethed. “You have three seconds. On the count of one?—“

I was off the couch before he could say two, tears streaming down my cheeks.

He wrapped his cold fingers around my throat, his face inches from mine as he sucked the air from my lungs. “I have kept you alive for one reason.”

What was that?

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