Page 26 of Turmoil's Target

I need to talk some sense into Grandfather.

He’s the only one Mum might actually listen to.

I smooth down my designer dress and tuck a glossy lock of chestnut hair behind my ear as the car turns onto the palm-lined street leading to his gated community.

Time to put on my most persuasive, doting granddaughter act.

The wrought-iron gates part and we pull up the winding drive to my grandfather’s sprawling mansion.

I have to admit, the manicured grounds and Greco-Roman inspired architecture never fail to impress, even in my current state of vexation.

Alfred, my grandfather’s faithful butler who’s served our family since the dawn of time it seems, already awaits outside.

He opens my door with a slight bow, his lined face cracking into a warm smile.

“Miss Seraphina, what a delight to see you again,” he greets me, his British accent crisp and proper. He always makes me sound like a heathen. “You look ravishing as always, my dear.”

“You’re too kind, Alfred.” I force a smile, trying to mask my inner turmoil. “I trust you’ve been well?”

“Never better, miss. Although these old bones aren’t quite what they used to be.” He chuckles and offers his arm gallantly. “Allow me to escort you inside. Your grandfather is enjoying a little...refreshment in the sitting room.”

“Why am I not surprised?” I mutter under my breath as I take his arm.

Even in his golden years, my grandfather still knows how to live it up.

We make our way through the grand foyer, our steps echoing on the marble floors.

Crystal chandeliers glitter overhead and the heady scent of fresh flowers permeates the air.

It’s like stepping into another world, one far removed from the gritty streets of Vegas and its seedy underbelly that I’ve become all too familiar with lately.

Alfred leads me to the sitting room and there sits my grandfather, settled into a plush armchair with a snifter of brandy in hand.

He looks up and his blue eyes, still sharp and shrewd despite his advancing years, crinkle at the corners.

“Ah, there she is! My beautiful wildflower,” he booms, his voice carrying across the room. “Come here and let me look at you.”

I cross over to him, bending to press a dutiful kiss to his weathered cheek.

The pungent scent of expensive cigars and cologne clings to him. “Hello, Grandfather. You’re in fine spirits today, I see.”

“And why shouldn’t I be? It’s a beautiful day and my favorite granddaughter has come to pay her dear old gramps a visit.” He pats my hand and takes a sip of brandy, the ice cubes clinking in the glass. “Now, why don’t you have a seat and tell me what’s troubling you, my dear. I can see it written all over that pretty face of yours.”

I sink into the chair beside him with a sigh.

He always could read me like an open book.

Time to lay my cards on the table and hope that my gandfather sees fit to talk some sense into Mum.

I understand our quest for vengeance more than anyone else, but I’m an asset in all of this, not an enemy.

Alfred materializes at my elbow, a polite smile on his lined face. “May I offer you some refreshment, Miss Seraphina? Coffee, tea, or perhaps a glass of Prosecco?”

The thought of a fortifying cup of tea is suddenly quite appealing. “A hot tea would be lovely, Alfred. Thank you.”

He nods, as unflappable as ever. “Of course, miss. I’ll bring it right away.”

With a slight bow, he glides out of the room, leaving me alone with my grandfather.

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