Page 109 of Tempting Little Thief

He jolts but bites his tongue when our fathers easily shift this way at the sudden movement.

Oliver yanks his hand back, inspecting the clean slice across his knuckles.

“You were saying?” I lift a brow, wiping his blood from the blade along my red dress. I didn’t want to wear this thing anyway. It’s only fair I add my favorite shade to it.

Oliver’s eyes narrow, anger clear as day, but he blinks it away. “We should talk about my family’s offer.”

“Let’s not.”

“You’d be wise to accept, Rocklin.”

My hackles rise and I shift, my body facing his fully. “You would be wise to remember your place before I strip it from beneath your feet, and I won’t be subtle about it. Don’t make us regret offering you a place and don’t forget nothing is permanent.”

“Go ahead, princess. Try and kick me and see how fast Daddy steps in.”

My brows snap together and I open my mouth to clap back, but then our fathers approach.

“We’re on our way back to the docks,” mine announces, a loose smile on his face as his palm pats his stomach.

Frowning, I stare at him, but he only meets my eyes for the briefest of moments and then speaks to Mr. Henshaw once more.

Oliver’s eyes slide my way, and he leans close, whispering, “We don’t have to fight like this, you know. It’s best to accept me on your own terms.”

I “accidentally” nudge my elbow, sending my glass into his lap.

He jumps up with a curse, stomping away, and thankfully, we’re docking before he comes back.

I move to stand, and Oliver rushes forward, offering me his hand that I have every intention of slapping away, but Mr. Henshaw’s eyes burn into the side of my head, so I accept, allowing his heir to pull me to my feet.

My jaw clenches as I force a smile, whispering for only him to hear. “If you aren’t careful, you will no longer be a member of the Greyson society.”

He smiles, leaning in, his lips brushing my cheek. “If you’re smart, you will accept my hand in marriage. I can protect you.”

I swallow my scoff, nodding at the pair as I step off the yacht, silent as I slide into the car with Sai.

“I don’t like him.” He glares at the side mirror.

“That makes three of us.” I recall my conversation with Dom.

Maybe it is time to reconsider his position in our society. He’s always been a pushy flirt with open intentions as to what he wants from me, but he’s never stepped over a line. Tonight, he jumped it. That’s a problem.

On the way back to Greyson Manor, Sai doesn’t speak and neither do I, leaving me at the mercy of the thoughts I succeeded in pushing away until now.

As usual, not one word was spoken about my mother at dinner, the woman we were to ‘celebrate’ today. It’s been a long time since I’ve found myself sad over her death. It was so long ago. I was young, and she preferred the company of Boston over me. What mother wouldn’t?

I wanted to shoot guns, throw punches, and swim for hours.

Boston wanted to dance in fluffy costumes, and god forbid she ruined her nails with water.

I am my father’s daughter through and through, but I loved my mom, and I know she loved me. It’s almost as if the universe knew what it was doing when it gave my mother, the woman who was thought to be infertile after four years of marriage went by without a single hint of an heir on its way—the sole purpose of the bride of Rayo Revenaw, even though he did love her in his own way—two babies instead of one, one for her and one for my father, or at least that’s the way I see it.He would have left my mother if my sister and I didn’t come along when we did—a man with such a legacy to leave behind couldn’t possibly fall without an heir waiting to take his place at the top. It just so happens I became what he was waiting for, and Boston … didn’t.

As we pull up to Greyson Manor, coming to a stop, Sai steps out, but rather than the right door opening for me to step out, the left one opens, and my dad slides onto the seat beside me.

He’s silent for a moment, studying me with a tilt of his head. Finally, he says, “You understand that there are roles we sometimes must play, yes?”

“I understand.” I eye him with curiosity and then realization. “You’re not drunk.” I attempt to read his blank expression but come up short. “Dad, what’s going on?”

“We are being watched. By whom, the answer is not yet clear.”

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