Page 1 of Blackmailing the Mogul

Prologue

Jenna

I stare blankly at my reflection in the mirror.

I look exactly how I want to, prim and aloof. Detached, as I need to be for any interaction with my demonic stepbrother, Henry.

I've chosen clothes that made me feel in control; a soft gray sweater and tailored black pants with a pair of black platform heels. My long, dark hair is neatly pulled back into a low ponytail, every strand in place. Turning away from the mirror, I grab my purse just as a short knock sounds at the door.

“It’s open,” I call out.

The door is pushed open, and my mom walks in. She looks fabulous, as always. She carries herself with a quiet confidence that I've always admired. Her auburn hair is styled in loose waves, and she's dressed in a tasteful navy dress that flatters her figure.

“You look like you're going to war,” she says with a smile, leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded over her chest. “It's just a simple dinner, honey.”

"Nothing is simple with Henry, Mom and you know it," I reply with a careless shrug.

“You should give him a chance.”

“Don’t act like we’re a big happy family,” I say, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

“At least he’s trying to reach out,” she says quietly.

I almost laugh at her words. Sometimes, I wonder if she's intentionally blind to Henry's flaws or if she's genuinely naive. Henry was a manipulative bastard at seventeen and he still is at thirty-four. I was just five when mom met and married Greg Henson, my stepdad. When I learned he had a son, I was over the moon… I was happy to be getting a dad and an older brother all at once. It didn't take me long, though, to realize that Henry didn’t share my sentiments.

“This dinner isn’t going to fix anything, Mom.” I know how excited she and Dad are that Henry asked me to dinner, but I’ve known him long enough to know he definitely has an ulterior motive. Still, I don’t want to disappoint my parents, even though my instincts are telling me I should stay home tonight.

My mind reels with all the times Henry has been cruel to me, from calling me names to leaving me lost in the woods. He has caused too much damage to make up for with one dinner.

“Oh, Jenna,” my mom says, rubbing her hands down my arms. “I know he’s hurt you. He’s made mistakes, but he’s trying to change. He’s still your brother.”

I shake my head, growing more frustrated by her naivete. “I really don’t think I’m asking for much, I just want some acknowledgement that he’s hurt me in the past.”

Mom nods, sighing softly. “I know it would mean a lot if he did that, and maybe he will someday. But Jenna, I hope you can find it in your heart to try and meet him halfway tonight. For your dad and me.”

I take a moment to consider her words, but a familiar heaviness settles in my chest. “I'll be civil,” I finally say, my voice calm but distant. “But I'm not going to pretend everything's fine.”

“That's all I ask,” she replies, trying to smile, though I can see the worry still lingering in her eyes. “I love you, Jenna.”

“Love you too, Mom,” I say, trying to muster up some warmth in my tone. It's not her fault that I can't seem to see whatever good she sees in Henry.

My conversation with Mom delayed me a bit, so I arrive at the restaurant about ten minutes later than we agreed upon. When I arrive, Henry is already waiting—seated at a corner table with his customary deep scowl marring his annoyingly handsome features. As I walk towards him, I take in my surroundings. Henry’s picked an upscale restaurant and as with everything with him, it’s fancy and exaggerated, with glistening chandeliers and flamboyant furniture.

I immediately dislike the place.

I make my way to the table where he's seated and pull the empty chair opposite his for myself. "Hi," I say simply, sliding into the chair.

His scowl deepens, his dark eyes flickering with a hint of irritation as he finally acknowledges my presence. "Jenna," he greets, his voice clipped and distant. "Took you long enough."

“Got caught up talking to my Mom,” I say, trying to keep my tone as neutral as possible.

He nods curtly, dismissing my explanation. “Of course. How're you?”

I frown slightly at him, surprised he asked. "Doing fine," I answer, keeping it short and avoiding giving him much to latch onto. “How about you?”

"Same old, same old," he replies with a shrug, leaning back into his seat.

After that, we sit in tense silence for what feels like forever, broken only by the waiter arriving to take our orders. I ask for the first thing I see on the menu and lean back in my seat, watching Henry interact with the bright-faced waiter. There's something about him, an edginess that hovers just beneath the surface. He seems… ruffled, and that's very unlike him.

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