The Inheritance Games (The Inheritance Games #1)(49)

“I did take care of him,” Alisa assured me. “You and your sister are both in possession of temporary restraining orders. If Drake attempts to contact or comes within a thousand feet of either of you for any reason, he’s facing arrest.”

I forced my fingers out of the fist but couldn’t manage to loosen my grip on the phone. “Then why is he at the gates of Hawthorne House right now?”

Drake was here. In Texas. When Nash had called, Libby was safely inside, but Drake was spamming her phone with texts and calls, demanding a face-to-face.

“I’ll handle this, Avery.” Alisa recovered almost instantly. “The firm has some contacts on the local police force who know how to be discreet.”

Right now, being discreet wasn’t my priority. My priority was Libby. “Does my sister know about this restraining order?”

“She signed the paperwork.” That was a hedge if I’d ever heard one. “I’ll handle it, Avery. You just lie low.” She hung up, and I let the hand holding my phone drop into my lap.

“Can you drive any faster?” I asked Oren.

Libby had her own security detail. Drake wouldn’t get a chance to hurt her—physically.

“Nash is with your sister.” Grayson spoke for the first time since we’d entered the car. “If the gentleman so much as tries to lay a finger on her, I assure you, my brother would take pleasure in removing that finger.”

I wasn’t sure if Grayson was referring to separating said finger from Libby’s body—or from Drake’s.

“Drake isn’t a gentleman,” I told Grayson. “And I’m not just worried about him getting violent.” I was worried about him being sweet, worried that, instead of losing his temper, he’d be so kind and tender that she’d start to question the fading bruise ringing her eye.

“If it would make you feel better, I can have him removed from the property,” Oren offered. “But that might cause a bit of a scene for the press.”

The press? My brain clicked into gear. “There weren’t any paparazzi at the foundation.” I’d noted that when we’d arrived. “They’re back at the house?”

The wall around the estate could keep the press off the property, but there was nothing stopping them from congregating, legally, on a public street.

“If I were a betting man,” Oren commented, “I would guess that Drake placed a few calls to reporters to ensure an audience.”





There was nothing discreet about the scene that greeted us when Oren pulled up to the drive, past a verifiable horde of press. Up ahead, I could see Drake’s form outside the wrought-iron gates. There were two other men standing near him. Even from a distance, I could make out their police uniforms.

And so could the paparazzi.

So much for Alisa’s friends on the police force being discreet. I gritted my teeth and thought about the way Drake would guilt Libby if there was footage of him being dragged down the drive.

“Stop the car,” I snapped.

Oren stopped, then turned around in his seat to face me. “I would advise you to stay in this vehicle.” That wasn’t advice. That was an order.

I reached for the door handle.

“Avery.” Oren’s tone stopped me dead in my tracks. “If you’re getting out, I’m getting out first.”

Remembering our little one-on-one that morning, I decided not to test him.

Beside me, Grayson unbuckled his seat belt. He reached for my wrist, his touch gentle. “Oren’s right. You shouldn’t go out there.”

I looked down at his hand on mine, and after a heartbeat, I looked back up. “And what would you do,” I said, “what lengths would you go to in order to protect your family?”

I had him there, and he damn well knew it. He drew his hand back from mine, slowly enough that I felt the pads of his fingers skim my knuckles. My breath coming quickly now, I opened the car door and braced myself. Drake was the biggest story the press had on the Hawthorne Heiress front because we hadn’t given them anything bigger. Yet.

Chin held high, I stepped out of the car. Look at me. I’m the story here. I walked down the drive, back toward the street. I was wearing boots with heels and my Country Day pleated skirt. My uniform blazer pulled against my body as I walked. The new hair. The makeup. The attitude.

I’m the story here. The chatter tonight wasn’t going to be about Drake. The eyes of the world weren’t going to be on him. I’d keep them on me.

“Impromptu press conference?” Oren asked under his breath. “As your bodyguard, I feel compelled to warn you that Alisa is going to kill you.”

That was Future Avery’s problem. I tossed my wave-perfect hair and squared my shoulders. The roar of reporters yelling my name was louder the closer we got.

“Avery!”

“Avery, look over here!”

“Avery, what do you have to say about rumors that—”

“Smile, Avery!”

I was standing right in front of them now. I had their attention. Beside me, Oren raised a hand, and just like that, the crowd went silent.

Say something. I’m supposed to say something.

“I… ummm…” I cleared my throat. “This has been a big change.”

There were a few small laughs. I can do this. The instant I thought those words, the universe made me pay for them. A fight broke out behind me, between Drake and the cops. I saw cameras starting to angle away from me, saw the long-distance lenses zooming in on the gates.