by Lana Grayson
I seized a shaky breath, stalking after Reed. He turned to me, speaking low and quick.
“Can you do this fast?”
“Yes.”
He flagged a nearby server and ordered with a forced smile. “Open a new bottle of champagne and fill glasses. In the back, I’ve reserved a bottle of Glenfiddich whiskey. Pour an ounce of that on the rocks.”
The server darted into the staging area. The prickle of fear encased me in goose bumps. I actually wished for the nausea just to purge some of the wickedness from me.
“You sure about this?” Reed asked.
I nodded.
“That makes one of us.”
The server returned, and Reed took the whiskey, offering me the water. He guided us to approach the cluster of Bennett Board members laughing near a display of multicolored orchids and a mosaic of delicate pebbles arranged into a mural.
He held out the drink, I poured the vial as he walked.
And that was it.
My heart thudded as though I sipped from the pesticide-infused poison myself. Reed nodded to the approaching trouble.
“Careful.” He said nothing else as Nicholas joined my side. Max hovered behind.
I didn’t trust his stare.
“You haven’t found Anthony Delvannis yet,” Nicholas said. He handed me a small glass.
Orange juice.
“Nope.” I sipped the drink. It eased the craving. “Couldn’t find him.”
“He’s talking to my father.”
Son of a bitch.
For an attorney, Anthony Delvannis consistently overstepped his bounds, broke his own rules, and demanded a respect from his clients that rivaled on obscene. He twisted confidence into arrogance. He was attractive, but it made him domineering. Intelligent, though he wavered between conceited and cunning. And rich—a man of means who earned whatever he desired.
Most often, that was a negotiated contract or judgement in his client’s favor.
Other times, it was a beautiful woman who succumbed to his every delight.
But I didn’t indulge in idle gossip.
Especially when I’d become the center of it soon enough.
I approached the group—Bennetts and board members, Atwood friends, powerful investors. I marched before the wolves and dared the pack to attack. I longed for it.
Anything would be better than the relentless dread pulsing through my body.
“Anthony, so great to see you!” I greeted my attorney with all the grace, class, and delicate acknowledgement I learned from the summers I spent split between science camps and finishing schools.
A tight cluster of men, each more powerful than the last, circled Darius Bennett.
But they made space for me.
Darius received me with an eager glance over my dress. He searched for any telltale evidence of his crimes and felt no remorse for reducing me to my most basic parts.
Once he looked upon me with lust. Now? With his rutting sated, I wasn’t even good enough to fuck. I existed merely to propagate the Bennett line.
He never respected me. Never feared me. Never thought I’d dare to anything to challenge him.
My only regret was that he wouldn’t live to see how I tore down his precious empire, brick by brick.
“My dear.” His words layered with false sincerity, like silk stitched with fiberglass. “I hadn’t expected the privilege of your presence today.”
“Surprise.”
Anthony nodded at me. “Sarah, good to see you.”
He didn’t add the word finally, but I knew it was there, hidden. Anthony dressed in a fine suit, but I never believed the pretention. His dark hair was long, pulled into a sleek ponytail. A little dangerous, a lot of trouble. He might have been handsome if he weren’t constantly criticizing my every decision.
“Sarah Atwood, I hadn’t expected to see you at a Bennett function.”
Bryant Maddox toasted me, but his eyes fixed on Nicholas. I debated not answering. Bryant attended Darius like the sycophantic waste of skin. He’d voted to breed me and kill me, and he had yet to answer for his crimes. He leered, but in hatred, not perverted excitement.
He didn’t know about the baby.
That was good. None of the Bennett board knew. The secret existed within our twisted family. Darius meant to use the truth against me, like it forged some sick bond between us.
It’d be over soon.
I greeted them with charm, bright and wholesome, just as Mom taught would best benefit Dad during his meetings and functions. I played the part of the hostess well, but I adopted my role as head of the Atwood family with greater enthusiasm.
“I knew this was the perfect opportunity to bring everyone together.” I said. A light waltz strummed from the nearby quartet. I preferred drums of war, but I wasn’t picky about my music. “This might be a first, Atwoods and Bennetts, all working toward a common goal.”
I raised my glass and greeted the Atwood board members who hesitantly joined our conversation. I hadn’t met with them personally for so long, but a pretty smile and pat to their arm forgave most indiscretions. Sam, Paul, and Devon were family friends and longtime investors, but Dad was careful to ensure they represented less than a quarter of our financial interests. Meeting with them was polite, but not required.
“I think we have much to discuss,” I said.
Nicholas and Max edged close, taking the offered champagne from the passing server. Reed presented Darius with the tumbler of whiskey though no words passed between the father and son. Any of his sons.
Darius no longer thought of them as family. He looked to me to fill that void.
And I watched only the glass in his hand for the moment that our ties would be severed.
Bryant sneered, unsuccessfully hiding his disgust. “Ms. Atwood, we should really discuss things in the proper setting. A board room, perhaps. It’s been so long since you last visited the Bennett Headquarters.”
My skin prickled. Bastard. “Oh, you know how the days slip away. Owning one company, managing another. It’s all quite time consuming. My father taught me to prioritize certain aspects of the business. I’m still learning which are most important.”
“Some would say Mark Atwood prioritized the wrong things,” Bryant said. “The wrong people maybe?”
They wouldn’t rattle me with talk of my father’s arrogance, or how he left his company to his sons. Those wounds scarred over long ago.
“Perhaps. My father had plans for me beyond the farm. But I know exactly where I belong in Atwood Industries now. I can blend what my father wished for me with what he designed for our farm.”
Bryant raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”
Not yet.
But soon.
“Just a few projects. Something near and dear to my heart.” I touched Nicholas’s elbow. Beneath the suit, his every muscle tensed. “My step-brother has even offered his support. We have such great plans for both companies.”
Darius hadn’t sipped from his whiskey yet.
“Sounds promising,” Anthony said. He didn’t believe me. “Unlikely, but promising.”
The tumbler dripped condensation over Darius’s hands. His gnarled fingers clenched the glass. His grip was strong enough to break it.
Strong enough to choke off the airflow to a delicate neck.
“These kids have it easy.” Devon, Dad’s longtime golfing partner laughed. “Back in our day it was ruthless. Times change. Profits change.”
I nodded, but I stared only at the whiskey.
I waited for him to take the sip.
Just one taste.
And then it’d be done.
And I could breathe.
And we’d be safe.
Just a drink.
Take a sip.
“I do love hearing of joint Bennett/Atwood projects,” Darius grinned. “Far easier to produce than I thought they’d be.”
I didn’t let Nicholas answer. I held Darius’s foul gaze and accepted the chills tha
t ached every invisible bruise he left.
“And more lucrative than my family ever dreamed,” I said. Drink it. “For years, this endless battle between the companies has caused so many problems. It’s only hurt us.”
Darius agreed. “Some more than others.”
“Bent, but not broken, I assure you.”
Anthony adjusted his suit but remained silent. I recognized his acquiescence—a surrender that I would not have earned had Atwood Industries not paid him generously for his services. In no uncertain terms, Anthony hated my plan to crush the Bennett Empire.
Not because it wouldn’t work.
But because he thought it was exactly the path Dad would have chosen.
“I’m sure Sarah will lead us to success,” Anthony said. “She’s always been the most resourceful Atwood.”
I took it as a compliment. So did Devon.
“It takes time to mend these fences,” Devon said. “Fortunately for the Bennetts, they can buy a lot of timber and nails with the couple million dollars from the new agrochemical deal.”
Nicholas sipped his champagne. “More than a couple million.”
I forced a laugh. “Don’t remind me, Nick. Or my accountants.”
My board chuckled. Darius hadn’t moved. Neither had the drink in his hand.
Drink it.
My stomach flipped. Bumper preferred the most inopportune moments to wake up. I ignored the nausea.
“I am very excited about this new partnership,” I said. “Especially after sitting with the Bennett Board of Directors. They are so loyal to the Bennett name.”
“To a fault.” Nicholas’s voice edged with warning.
“Nonsense,” I said. “They are bound to success. It’s a dedication that would frighten some. That drive creates many opportunities.”
The ice clinked in Darius’s glass. “And my daughter now understands the Bennetts seize every available opportunity.”
I flushed under the stares of those listening. “And when it’s not available?”
“Then we make our own opportunities.”
I shuddered. “Such a pity that ambition was so often at odds with my family.”
“No, my dear, we weren’t at odds,” he said. “You were never a challenge.”
“And there’s not one now.” I lied to them all. “Only partnerships.”
Darius chuckled. “This new generation is certainly more agreeable than the old.”
“Only because we know what we want.”
“And what’s that?”
I answered with every honesty. “Family and power. Same as the Bennetts.”
My board members nodded. Anthony raised his champagne and an eyebrow. “I’ll drink to that.”
So would Darius.
My mouth dried, but I didn’t let my hand tremble. Nicholas squeezed my elbow, as though he read through my cracking, flaking façade.
“To the beginning of a new partnership,” I said.
Darius grinned. “A new union between families.”
The toast clinked. I drew my trembling glass to my lips, staring as the liquid swirled in Darius’s glass.
One drink.
The others sipped.
Darius’s arm moved slowly, draggingly.
Up. Up. Up.
To his lips.
On his lips.
The glass cracked under my grip.
Just drink it.
My orange juice would choke me. I’d drown, bloat, suffer through the tiniest of sips in a closing throat with my aching chest. So close to being free. So close to protecting Bumper.
So close to ending it.
Drink it, you son of a bitch.
Darius opened his gullet and guzzled a swig of the alcohol. A large, gluttonous gulp that splashed down his throat.
I hoped it burned.
Just a prelude to the flames that would conquer him so soon.
He pulled the tumbler from his lips, staring at the drink. Then his eyes beaded and narrowed and focused on me.
If he had a weapon, he would have fired it. If he had a belt, he would have beaten me.
If we were alone, he would have done far, far worse.
But he had nothing. He could only count the slipping grains of sand through the cracked hourglass of his life.
His glass raised again, smiling over the circle of allies and enemies.
“Another toast.” His words threaded with vile intent. “One of congratulations and well-wishes for my darling daughter, Sarah.”
Nicholas gripped my arm. The bastard twisted a knife without pulling it from the sheath. He called for another round of champagne with false excitement. The others raised their glasses once more.
“Here’s to a life of joy and good health.”
Anthony, Bryant, and my board waited in polite confusion. Darius smiled at me.
Only me.
“My dear, I can’t wait to meet my grandson.”
My father revealed the pregnancy.
I should have known.
I should have expected it.
I should have realized nothing Sarah Atwood did was premeditated beyond a moment of pure, emotional rage.
Reckless, foolish, dangerous girl.
What had she done?
“Grandson?” Anthony Delvannis looked upon my family with contempt on our best days. My father presented the attorney with everything he needed to piece the crime together, take Sarah from me, and destroy us. “Sarah? Are you…?”
She hadn’t sipped her juice. The glass cracked in her hand, and a single bead of blood trickled over her thumb. She stared at my father as if she couldn’t believe he’d use the child against her.
She was smarter than that.
And she was fortunate he labeled the baby as his grandson.
“I…” A paleness drained the color from her cheeks. “I had meant to keep that particular announcement private.”
“Forgive my excitement.” My father spoke to the crowd of stunned board members and associates. “I haven’t been this pleased since my sons were born.”
Bryant laughed, a perverted glee. He gulped his champagne and ordered more.
“Ms. Atwood, you’re pregnant!” It wasn’t a question. He declared war. “How…when did this all happen?”
Max tensed, but Bryant was my responsibility. His fate sealed when he assisted with my attempted murder.
But I couldn’t answer for Sarah.
We hadn’t discussed what problems the revelation would cause or how we would present it to the world. The child was mine. Sarah was mine. But everything about an Atwood heir and a Bennett son was difficult enough without the additional complication of our family ties. We were step-siblings, and the scandal would shame Sarah.
Just as it’d shame Bumper.
Sarah refused to surrender to my father, but nothing good came when she dug in her heels.
“I am expecting,” she said, channeling elegance and a fierce pride. “And I’m as excited as my step-father.”
The Atwood board members stared in horror as the woman who assumed ownership of the company now lost everything to an unborn child.
A child that would own them all.
And it was mine.
A Bennett.
A life that would ruin others, depose empires, and steal fortunes.
Once, I wanted that power.
Now?
I just wanted a healthy child, Sarah to be safe and loved, and our enemies dead, buried, and unable to harm the life we created.
“Sarah.” Anthony’s expression twisted. He reached for her, not caring as she hesitantly protested. “Come with me. Excuse us.”
She untangled her hand from Anthony’s only to take his arm instead. I followed, though Anthony turned after half a dozen steps. He sneered.
“Don’t even try it, Bennett.”
Sarah forced a plastic smile as he guided her through the crowds. “Anthony, really. You’re going to make a scene.”
“I prefer it that way.”
> Max and Reed excused themselves from the spreading gossip that hushed the entirety of the conservatory. Reed had invited every important family from the West Coast to attend. Sarah would be humiliated.
Or enraged.
I followed them through an access hallway. Anthony lunged for my throat.
He dared to lay a hand on me. Two, actually. His fists curled within my suit, and he jammed me against the wall. Sarah groaned.
We stood eye-to-eye, neither blinking. I wasn’t threatened by him, even if he thought himself powerful. His family was moneyed, but he was nothing compared to the Bennett wealth. I didn’t care for his attitude or the rumors of his particular lifestyle, no matter how much they currently mirrored my own tastes.
No one touched me. And no one would chastise Sarah Atwood and drag her through a party like an errant child. She deserved more respect than any of us had ever given her.
“Release me,” I said.
“What the fuck did you do to her?”
Sarah hissed. “Anthony, let him go.”
“What did you do to her?”
“I advise you to listen to the lady,” I said.
Anthony scowled. His grip tightened. I didn’t trust the blind hatred seething from this man. He understood his strength, knew exactly the pain his hands could cause.
That made his restraint all the more dangerous.
“Sarah, did he hurt you?” he asked.
“You don’t understand.” Sarah tried to edge close. “Let him go.”
“Did. He. Hurt. You.”
She tugged on his arm. “No, he didn’t. Anthony, please.”
Her breathing rasped, and it ached in my chest. I kept her inhaler in my pocket. She needed it.
She needed me.
And if her attorney didn’t remove his hands by her next wheeze, I wouldn’t be responsible for my behavior.
“Who is the father?”
Sarah protested. Anthony demanded it again. I loathed the question. She never should have had to hesitate, to blink in memory, to fear such things.
“I am,” I said.
“Oh, wrong answer.” Anthony slammed me against the wall. My patience wore thin, kept in check only as a favor to the woman begging for a moment of sanity. “I knew something was wrong. I just never thought you bastards would be sick enough to do this to an innocent girl.”
Sarah’s voice turned sharp. “Anthony, for Christ’s sake. Let him go. It’s not what you think!”