Page 5 of My Three Rivals

Tegan turned back and grunted, as if being there physically pained her. “I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “But I’m going to tell you the same thing I told the others—”

She stopped abruptly and stared at me, as if my words had finally sunk in. Glancing at Wyatt, I saw how much he was enjoying her discomfort, but his expression was sour.

“W-what do you mean by ‘the rest of the vineyard’?” she asked slowly. “The rest of what? The vineyard is mine.”

“Tegan, come and sit down,” her companion urged. “This is what I was trying to tell you before.”

“Who the hell are you now?” Wyatt finally spoke. “This is a private meeting, not a tea party.”

The blonde whipped her head around, her gray eyes narrowing into slits. “Beatrice Woodsley, Ms. Pickett’s attorney,” she snapped.

“Oh,” Wyatt mumbled, as I rolled my eyes covertly.

This wasn’t going at all as we had planned.

“Please, Ms. Pickett, why don’t you sit down, and we can discuss this,” I offered, extending my hand genially toward the leather chairs.

“No thanks,” she hissed again, this time with much less pleasantness. “I’m not staying. I’m only going to say this once: stay away from my land. And don’t contact me again.”

“It’s not entirely your land, Ms. Pickett,” Garrity finally volunteered, pulling files and papers from his portfolio to slide across the sleek tabletop toward Tegan.

Beatrice reached for them, but Tegan slapped her hand. “Don’t touch those!” she cried. “They’re conmen, clearly.”

Offended, I scowled. “If you won’t read it, I’ll break it down for you so you understand the situation clearly. Your family members, including those who held minority shares in the vineyard, have sold their pieces to Suncrop Corp. As of a week ago, Suncrop Corp—i.e., us…” I twirled my fingers around to indicate my friends. “Have fifty percent ownership of Five Penny Estates.”

Her mouth gaped open, the shock genuine and pure. “Why?” she choked. “Why would they do that?”

“Money?” Wyatt quipped sarcastically, and I scowled at him, shutting him down from making any more comments.

“I get that,” Tegan seethed. “But why would they sell to the likes of you? Of all the people in the world…”

“Hey!” Maverick snapped, his enamored eyes fading. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She shot him a look that could have turned someone weaker to stone, and Maverick jutted out his chin.

“Did I hurt your feelings?” she asked mockingly. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t apologize. You’re trying to steal my land out from under me.”

“We’re trying to make you an offer,” I insisted, my annoyance growing alongside Wyatt’s and Maverick’s. “You’re being unreasonable, not hearing us out.”

“The land isn’t for sale—well, at least my part isn’t.”

“Everything is for sale, Ms. Pickett,” I insisted, trying to appeal to her sense of greed. It was the wrong thing to say.

“Maybe in your world, Mr. King,” she retorted sharply. “But not in mine.”

I steeled myself from barking at her and putting this spoiled little heiress in her place. Despite her consignment shop clothes, she had inherited this land without putting a penny into it. She needed a reality check, and quickly.

“Well, the land is half ours,” Maverick volunteered, and I jumped on his opening.

“So, you see,” I went on slowly, like I was talking to a child. “It doesn’t make any sense to keep half the estate because you won’t have a full production after this year.”

Her gorgeous, full mouth gaped further, but just as quickly as the news hit, she straightened her spine, clearly determined not to show us her mounting distress.

“We’ll see about that,” she rasped, nodding at her lawyer to take the pages in front of her. “Come on, Bizzy. I think we’re done here.”

“Wait a second! You can’t take those—” Garrity started to protest, but I shook my head.

“I have all the originals, Garrity. She can have them.”

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