Page 2 of Inevitable Inheritance

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Winter was keepingits frosty hold on the early spring New England nights, but tonight Libby didn’t feel the cold. She locked the shop, completely forgetting to put on her sweater. Instead, it stayed wrapped around her waist, leaving her arms bare in her T-shirt. Tonight the cold was irrelevant; tonight she was warmed by the kiss Ben had left her with, as quick as it may have been.

She gazed up at the stars and wrote poetry in her head. For the first time in her life, she saw how brightly the stars shone and how they actually did twinkle from their heavenly position. She was certain they had never shone quite this brightly or twinkled so freely. Nope, she was quite certain that tonight they shone brighter because—

“Oooph” was all Libby was able to get out before large arms encircled her from behind. Her mouth was quickly masked with an awful-smelling cloth, and then she was being hoisted and carried away, despite her attempts to escape. Libby wrenched her body to and fro, but it was no use.

Her efforts were futile because she could feel herself growing weaker and the darkness pulling her down into unconsciousness. The last thing Libby knew was she was petrified, absolutely and totally petrified.

The fear wasn’t because of the unknown—it was because she knew exactly who had taken her. And that was the worst part of all. Because now Libby was dead.

Taylor had been resurrected.

Chapter One

The headache was bad.Groan-out-loud bad, and that was exactly what she did as she came to. Even with her eyes closed, she could tell there was light just on the other side of them, but she could not bring herself to open up.

“Taylor?” a voice asked softly. The sound of it had her entire body tensing. She knew that voice. She would never forget it. The voice terrified her that the worst had come true. She opened her eyes wide to see if her fear was well deserved.

And, sure enough, crouched in front of her was someone she had never wanted to see again, someone from what she thought was her long-lost past—a past she had desperately tried to eradicate, a past she had changed her name to avoid.

Apparently it hadn’t worked.

Charlie Mickels was waiting patiently for her to respond. He was not a mean man, not a terrible person, just a complete emblem of her previous life—the mascot of it all. Just seeing his perfect white hair, his finely lined face, and his fancy three-piece suit brought back a trillion memories and made her sure it had finally happened.

They had finally found her.

Taylor shook her head rapidly from side to side like she could shake him off or get him away. Maybe he was a hallucination. But he stayed there.

“You’re okay, Taylor, you’re safe,” Charlie assured her, and he touched her hand gently. If there was any doubt this was a horrific dream, the light touch of Charlie’s hand only confirmed to Taylor that this was happening; this was real. She tried to pull herself up from her seat but found that she was tied down.

It was amazing how quickly fear could turn to rage.

“Untie me,” she said sharply.

Charlie jumped to his feet, nodding as he went for the ties at Taylor’s wrist. “We didn’t want you to fall,” Charlie explained.

“Well, I am holding myself up now!” Taylor shouted. Panic set in then. She had been found, abducted, and taken God only knew where,andshe was tied down. This was not good. Taylor started to tug at her restraints as complete hysteria overtook her, but to no avail.

Charlie moved in and released the binds on her with a quick pull at both of her wrists, and Taylor sprang from her seat. She grabbed at her sore wrists and bumped into a banquette couch. Taylor looked down at the couch that had stopped her and finally took in her surroundings: She was in the Preston family jet. She knew it well. The whole thing was outfitted with cream carpet and leather, with a bar just behind the cockpit and a fireplace too. The sight of it made her sick.

She had been inside this jet hundreds of times because she was Taylor Preston, one of the last remaining descendants of the billion-dollar money-making machine, Preston Corporation. It was a company that started with hotel chains in the early 1900s, over time expanding to a conglomerate of hotels, housewares, electronics, clothing lines, and anything else one could think of. It employed hundreds of thousands of people in the United States alone; it was a powerhouse and a household name. Growing up, Taylor had never wanted for anything, but that life hadn’t been without its issues.

And it was absolutely the last place she wanted to be ever again.

Taylor could feel the frenzied nerves building up in her as she kept her eyes on the couch. She needed to get herself together, and the best way to do that was to get information. Maybe it wasn’t what she thought, she told herself, maybe it wasn’t that bad. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded.

“Cedric is dead, Taylor.” The news was delivered by another voice that Taylor also knew all too well; it was the voice of Todd Hammel.

Taylor spun to take in the new arrival. “Good,” Taylor spat the word. “Where the hell are we going? And why the hell am I here?” she demanded of the two men with her.

Todd and Charlie were the top advisers for Preston Corporation. She had known both men her entire life, and they couldn’t be more opposite. Charlie was decades older with silvery-white hair, coiffed in the style of a mad man. He was kind and soft spoken; he had a grandfatherly quality about him. Todd had a stare that could melt steel, and he wore his hair in a buzz cut. It fit his personality—straight and to the point, no fuss.

“L.A.” Charlie answered her quickly, too quickly.

Taylor paused to try and gather herself. Something was up. She had known both men forever, and both were acting strangely, especially Charlie. In business dealings Charlie was no-nonsense and confident. On social occasions he was relaxed and easygoing. But now he was bouncing from foot to foot and jabbering. He was like a boxer who was afraid of his opponent. And his behavior was scaring the shit out of Taylor; something was up.

And then Todd spoke again, “Taylor, Cedric is dead.”

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