The colonel backed away. “Keep your eyes on a man who didn’t sit idly by for wealth to be handed to him and built Steele Electrics from the ground up. Someone whose life isn’t stained by scandal or his reputation built on dubious charm or looks that will fade. Take a close look, Nathaniel, as I protect and care for my daughter the way your father should’ve.”
“Don’t talk about my dad!”
Grandpa smirked, reaching for the light. “Who is to stop me? You? Your bluster is just that.” He winked out, gloom blanketing us once again. “You have nothing, Nathaniel. You are nothing.” His voice faded. “But you are familiar with the door. Double bolt it when you leave.”
His fading footsteps rang in the hall long after he left. Turning away, I walked in the opposite direction, feet soundless on the carpet-lined hall and staircase. I came out on the second floor, walked three steps, and closed my hand on the knob.
I didn’t need light to find the drawing room. Or directions to the cabinet at the opposite end.
Pulling on the handles, the doors didn’t budge an inch. I moved to the side, pressed my elbow to the glass, and smashed it through. Pain exploded up my arm, but didn’t pull a wince out of me. The colonel wasted his time putting a lock on the liquor cabinet.
I blindly groped inside and pulled out the first bottle I laid hands on.
What the hell.
I pulled out a second and carried them up to my room. These days, one way or another, I didn’t sleep alone.
Chapter Four
“Welcome to Citrine Cove, Miss Adler.” He reached in to help me out. “You’re right on time. The shuttle leaves in ten minutes for the villa. Your bags will be sent straight on, but you’re destined for a tour of the island. If you need anything from your suitcases, grab them now.”
I murmured a thank-you. We descended the staircase and I was struck by the same thought that overcame me as my plane circled the island for landing.
Citrine Cove was beautiful.
Gazing down from thousands of feet in the sky, fields of orange trees dotted the rolling green with vibrant color. I looked down from the window and saw straight to the ocean floor. Water a crystal-clear blue hid nothing from those skimming its waves. If this was a vacation, I couldn’t think of a better spot to kick back.
But it wasn’t.
On the ground, the man who pulled me out of my plane shook my hand properly. Half-frame glasses perched on a long, upturned nose and kindness curled his smile. I put his age at late twenties or early thirties.
“My name is Harley Hendrix.”
“Wow. That’s a name right there.”
He laughed. “What can I say? Mom let my father choose my name. You, Belle Adler,” he said without consulting the clipboard, “may call me Harley or Mr. Hendrix. Whatever you wish. I’m Mrs. Desai’s personal assistant and here to help you navigate this summer.”
Hendrix took something off his clipboard and handed it to me. “This is a schedule of events along with your room assignment, emergency numbers, and general information. Map of the island, buses that take you into town, and so forth.”
I accepted the folder without comment. I wouldn’t give the man a hard time. He was just doing his job and was no more responsible for my being here than the mosquitoes buzzing around my face.
I swiped a bold bugger making a dive for my chin.
“There’s complimentary bug spray and sunscreen in your room,” said Hendrix. “You’ll be very comfortable here, Miss Adler. I promise.”
“Are you reassuring me because you heard about my speech at the reception?”
“Yes. Is it helping?”
“No,” I replied, slightly amused. “But I appreciate it all the same.”
He motioned over his shoulder. “You’re the last to arrive in this time slot. The shuttle is ready and waiting whenever you are.”
“Is one of the stops for food?” I picked up the small pack I brought on the plane with me and followed him off the airstrip. “I missed breakfast.”
“There are refreshments on the shuttle. Juice, fruit, and croissants. A full meal will be served when you arrive at the villa.”
If I don’t make my escape before then.
I relished the thought for a few blissful seconds, and then let it go. I wouldn’t last very long on my own. No money. No college. No protection.
My only choice was to survive this summer by making the thought of being married to me so unappealing, my weighty inheritance fell too short to make up for it.
A group of people idled in the hangar. I recognized them from the reception. At nine in the morning, we had to be the first batch of sacrifices to the cove.
Three girls and two guys fell in step with us heading out of the strip. I eyeballed them the same as they eyeballed me. Taking in the sunglasses, light flirty dresses, strappy sandals, polo shirts, and plaid pants while they got a good look at my yellow belted top and purple shorts that read “What are you looking at?” across the back.
“Nice pants,” one of the guys said.
I tossed him a wink. “If you’re reading them, you’ve already done something wrong.”
“Caught me.” He laughed. “The name’s Zion. Zion Mitchell.” The boy broke through to shake my hand. I took it.
I had a resolution about getting too friendly with any of the guys here. I couldn’t have them getting ideas. That said, there was plenty of time to ensure Zion and his counterparts cast their sights on other potential brides. A little common courtesy was fine to start with.
In Zion’s case, I had a feeling I’d find him more palatable than the others. A statue, he was not.
Don’t get me wrong, the guy wasn’t unattractive by any culture’s definition. A strong jaw, easy smile, and soft shoulder-length locks, put Zion firmly in the handsome category. But a crooked nose and slight asymmetrical curve of said jaw likely prevented him getting too full of himself.
“Damn,” I said. “Us rich folk really like getting creative with the names.”
“When you’ve got that much money, it’s eccentric instead of crazy.”
“Tell me about it. My mom had to be talked out of Willow.”
He bobbed his head, lips pushed out. “Willow Adler. I kinda like it.”
Outside, a double-decker bus idled by the curb. Hendrix pulled ahead, ushering us inside. As promised, refreshments took up the first row of seats. I helped myself to a chocolate croissant and carton of milk while we chatted.
“Adler. I’m guessing everyone knows who I am.”
He cracked a grin. “If they didn’t, they for sure looked you up after your speech.”
A snort drew my attention to the girl topping the stairs. I instantly recognized her from the reception. It was hard to miss jet-black hair with blue tips—styled so they piled on top of her head and spilled over one side. She bumped into a server, nearly putting him on his backside, and hadn’t bothered to stop or acknowledge his presence.
“Of course we know who you are,” she said. “I’ve never seen anyone make a bigger ass of themselves in public. And that includes Lukas and his kink for streaking across campus.”
“I was drunk and it was a bet,” a masculine voice sounded behind her.