Page 4 of Burning for the Billionaire 7

Chapter 3

Rowan

The front door swingsopen.

“Grace, you’re late,” a honeyed voice accuses. As a keen observer of people—because I’ve always been skeptical of them—I detect the bite in the falsely sweet tone with ease.

The owner of the voice looks at Grace with sharp pale-blue eyes. Her blonde hair is cut in a sleek bob, framing her face and accentuating her high cheekbones. She’s beautiful and as cold as ice. This must be Grace’s mother.

“Hi, Mom, I’m sorry.”

I can already hear the defeat in Grace’s voice, and we just got here. I’m glad I decided against telling her about Rebecca and her threat—the last thing Grace needs right now is my family issues compounded with hers.

I place a reassuring hand on her lower back.

Her mother’s cutting blue gaze swings to me and instantly gleam with curiosity.

“Mom, this is Rowan Cavanaugh, my...” She glances at me. “Boyfriend. Rowan, this is Elizabeth Lawson.”

Elizabeth offers her hand with the back facing upward as if she’s the queen and she expects me to kiss it. It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. I take her hand and give it a little shake. All the while, it seems Grace is holding her breath. I wish she’d relax a little. She doesn’t have to worry about me among the wolves. I’m the master of giving zero fucks.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lawson.”

“Elizabeth, please,” she practically purrs, her cheeks taking on a hint of pink as her fingers tighten around mine. Suddenly, her icy demeanor thaws. I stare at the woman, wondering if what Ithinkis happening is really happening.

Grace’s eyebrows pinch together as she eyes my point of contact with her mother. Then her eyes widen as if she’s fully caught on.

Jesus Christ. This is happening. As subtly as I can, I pull my hand from Elizabeth’s.

“Grace’s boyfriend?” Elizabeth laughs. “There’s nothing boyish about you.”

From my periphery, I see Grace’s mouth fall open. Yeah, I wasn’t expecting her mother to blatantly flirt with me, either. Thankfully, we’re interrupted.

“Mom, is it Grace?” A taller, lithe, blonde woman with hair lighter than Elizabeth’s rounds the corner into the foyer. Like Elizabeth, she’s dressed in a cocktail dress and heels. Her eyes zero in on me first, then skip to Grace.

“Gracie, it is you.”

Grace’s pout is in full effect and I almost smile. She hates being called that.

The woman teeters to Grace and grasps her shoulders to give her air kisses. I catch Grace’s eye roll and bite back my amusement. That must be Isabelle.

“Hi, Belle,” she greets. “You look great.”

Isabelle giggles and flips her shoulder-length spiral-curled hair. “Thanks.” She gives Grace a once over in her jeans, T-shirt, and sweater, which are totally appropriate for traveling. I’m dressed similarly. “And you look...” Isabelle fluffs Grace's hair and finishes, “You’re here, that’s what matters.”

Grace’s eyebrows hike up, but she doesn’t comment. Clearly, she’s accustomed to the subtle insults... Or maybe not so subtle. How dare her sister imply Grace doesn’t look amazing? Not to be an ass, but Isabelle doesn’t hold a candle to her sister, who boasts softer features, killer curves, and the sweetest personality.

Isabelle’s attention is back on me. “And who’s this?”

Before Grace can say a word, her mother steps forward, resting a hand on my arm. I try not to tense under the unwanted touch. “This is Rowan.”

“My boyfriend,” Grace adds through clenched teeth. “You said I could bring a plus one, remember?”

“Of course,” Isabelle chirps. “Honesty, I didn’t think you’d bring anyone.”

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