Page 29 of The Heiress

“She seems like the kind of woman who knows what she wants to do with her life and does it with or without her parents’ permission. Isn’t she an heiress?”

“Yeah. Before our time.” What a sad thing to think about a woman who isn’t even thirty yet. I put the paper down. “She’s a philanthropist. Talk about not giving a fuck what your parents’ legacy is. My parents would shit themselves.”

“Mine too. What do her parents even do?”

“No idea.” The Allen family goes back farther than mine in this country. There’s a reason Kathleen is one of the richest women anyone knows. She doesn’t need a “real” job because she’s already wealthy in her own right. Must be nice. Maybe I shouldtake some of the money from my next trust payment and invest like I’m serious about my future.

Hmm. Might not be a bad idea. You know. In case I finally snap at Daddy and he cuts me off forever. Better have a backup plan that isn’t “shack up with Lorde and hope for the best.”

My phone rings in my Chanel bag. I reach in and languidly pull it out, only sitting upright when I see my mother’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hello? Mama?”

“Daisy!” It’s not unusual for my mother to sound exasperated. At the same time, she’s usually notthisexasperated. “You need to come home right now!”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

My mother tries telling me at least a hundred times. No, nobody is hurt. No, a calamity hasn’t occurred. Something is going on at the house, though, and I needed to be there five minutes ago.

I say goodbye to Ashleigh and immediately call my driver. I’m almost afraid to find out what’s going onthistime.

Chapter 16

Lorde

“Name!”

I roll down the window of the 1956 Alfa Romeo Giulietta Spider Classic I “borrowed” from my mother this morning. It’s as red as the blood rushing through me as my nerves start to take over. “Lorde Sheen.”

The security guard looks at his clipboard. I already know what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth… and he already knows what my answer is going to be. “Do you have an appointment, Ms. Sheen?”

“No, sir.” Before I get waved away, I say, “But I need to see Mr. DeMonte, if he’s in.”

I can tell from the security guard’s expression that such a thing is a fat chance in hell. The whole me getting in to see the man of the house thing, that is.

“It has to do with his daughter. Trust me. He’ll want to hear this.”

At least the guard steps back into his booth and makes a call. I idle in front of the main gate for more than a few minutes. Finally, the guard steps back out, the gates opening.

“Go right on ahead, Ms. Sheen.”

“Thank you.”

There’s a reason I chose this car for today. Classic Italian. A man so proud of his heritage will surely be impressed with (cough, my mother’s) tastes. He’ll like my outfit even more. Got my Valentino turtleneck in this thrice-damned heat and Armani trousers. Both were tailor-made the last time I was in Europe. Never thought I would wear this turtleneck, but even a girl like me knows how important it is to have such a piece in her wardrobe. I’m glad for my foresight today.

I park in front of the entrance and am greeted by the head butler. His accent is thick and his mannerisms a bit gruff, but I can tell he fits in with this place nicely. Time to already be on my guard. I sling my leather knapsack over my chest and look like some Yale schmuck as I take the front steps one at a time. The butler says he will lead me to Mr. DeMonte’s office.

Here we go.

I’ve rarely seen Marcello DeMonte. He’s not exactly a public personality like his daughter. You only see photos of him in the business papers – boring – and sometimes in the social pages if it’s a gala or fundraiser. Not the kind of man you look at and gowhat a handsome fella!He’s not ugly, but you can only tell that he’s related to Daisy because of the cheekbones and a defiant chin. Otherwise, he’s broad-shouldered and stout. A formidable man. I can see how he has a lot of clout in the business world.

He's in his office. The man stands and says hello, although the confusion on his wrinkled face implies that he doesn’t know why I could be here. Someone approved of me coming onto the property, though. If not him, then who?

“Mr. DeMonte.” I extend my hand across his desk for a firm shake. The butler closes the office door behind me.

The man has the blankest look. His hand hangs limp by his side after we’re done shaking. Don’t blow this, Lorde. “Do I know you?” He’s losing interest already.

“Lorde Sheen.” I clear my throat. “Yeah, that one.”

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