Page 16 of Relentless

In the very next cabinet, she found the prize she was looking for. The delicate crystal stemware shimmered as she reached high on her bare toes to retrieve one. Running her fingers over the smooth glass, she relished the feel of the exquisite craftsmanship before setting it on the counter with a gentle clink.

There was one thing in the spacious kitchen she could locate without a hitch —the liquor cabinet.

She went to the beautifully custom-crafted red oak case. They had spared no expense on stocking it to the brim with a variety of fine wines and liquors. Pulling the door open, she ran her tongue over her lips as she studied her options. The collection of bottles was meant to be shared and flaunted to their high-profile guests who would frequent the estate. It was almost a shame to waste it on herself.

Almost.

Shame was something Harper refused to dwell on as she nabbed what she knew was the most expensive bottle of merlot. Knowing Shep would be absolutely furious when he found out made it all the more delectable. He had his own stockpile of bourbons hidden away in his office. The rare collection was his pride and joy. She felt a burning, resentful smileedge on her lips as she considered the satisfaction of methodically smashing every last one of them.

Setting the bottle on the counter, she realized through her foggy, wine-soaked thoughts that she still had the burden of locating a corkscrew.

Harper scanned the seemingly endless row of drawers.

“C’mon!” she exclaimed, her frustration echoing across the marble.

Reaching for the first drawer, she yanked it open and found it full of their finest silverware.

“This will do,” she announced, selecting a butter knife. It felt hefty in her hand as she jammed it into the tan cork.

Using all of her strength, she twisted and manipulated the knife into place. She recalled the meticulous, gloved auctioneer who had presented them with the wine. If he could only see her now, treating the bottle as though it weretwo buck chuck.

Harper could feel her temper rising.

She wrenched the knife, causing the soft cork to crumble under the pressure. Stepping again on her toes, she pressed down on the neck of the bottle, exerting all of her force.

There came a loudpop.

Catching herself on the counter, she felt the sharp sting of broken glass slice into her fingers. The red merlot streamed off the counter and onto the floor as she clutched her wounded hands to her chest. Gathering the courage to examine her injuries, she eyed the deep gouges.

There was blood, and she felt the pulsing throb of pain through her fingertips.

The room began to spin, and a dark tunnel formed in her vision. Stepping back to gather herself, she felt her bare feet slip on the slick, wet tile.

When her eyes fluttered open, she saw a flash of light in her vision and felt a blast of searing pain across her temples. Pushing through her discomfort, she attempted to orient herself to her surroundings.

The floor beneath her was cold, and the bright white marble reflected the glaring lights above her.

I’m on the kitchen floor.

She clutched her forehead as her head began to pound. Now noticing the pool of pungent crimson merlot, she felt a rush of panic.

Is that my blood?

Propping herself on her elbows, she felt the razor-sharp shards of glass pierce her palms and the burn of the wine in her deep cuts.

“It’s wine,” she quickly reassured herself, the memory of the accident flooding back. Running her hands through her hair, she felt the back of her head.

She winced.

Her entire body felt tender and sore. Sweeping her hands around her, she carefully swished the wine and glass in gentle waves in an attempt to locate her phone. Finally catching sight of the device, she groaned in dismay. Amid the chaotic accident, her phone had slipped from her pocket and been hurled across the kitchen floor.

It would take more than that to defeat Harper Davenport.

Every muscle in her body tensed as she slid across the smooth marble. The pain that clawed through her body was telling her that she was more injured than she wanted to admit. Pressing on, she vowed to herself that she wouldn’t be remembered as the wealthy woman who was found perished in a pool of wine —

Although she knew many would have declared it a fitting end to her legacy.

Not today.

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