The Inheritance Games (The Inheritance Games #1)(54)

“You can leave your towel on the floor. We’ll be laundering them anyway.”

That just felt wrong. “I’m Avery.” I introduced myself, even though she almost certainly knew my name. “What’s your name?”

“Mellie.” She didn’t volunteer more than that.

“Thank you, Mellie.” She stared at me blankly. “For your help.” I thought about the fact that Tobias Hawthorne had kept outsiders out of Hawthorne House as much as possible. And still, there was an entire crew in to clean on Tuesdays. I shouldn’t have found that surprising. It should have been more surprising that the entire crew wasn’t here cleaning every day. And yet…

I went across the hall to Libby’s room because I knew she would get exactly how surreal and uncomfortable this felt. I knocked lightly, in case she was still sleeping, and the door drifted inward, just far enough for me to catch sight of a chair and ottoman—and the man currently occupying them.

Nash Hawthorne’s long legs were stretched out on the ottoman, his boots still on. A cowboy hat covered his face. He was sleeping.

In my sister’s room.

Nash Hawthorne was sleeping in my sister’s room.

I made an involuntary sound and stepped back. Nash stirred, then saw me. Hat in hand, he slipped out of the chair and joined me in the hallway.

“What are you doing in Libby’s room?” I asked him. He hadn’t been in her bed, but still. What the hell was the oldest Hawthorne brother doing keeping vigil over my sister?

“She’s going through something,” Nash said, like that was news to me. Like I hadn’t been the one to handle Drake the day before.

“Libby isn’t one of your projects,” I told him. I had no idea how much time they’d spent together these past few days. In the kitchen, she’d seemed to find him irritating. Libby doesn’t get irritated. She’s a gothic beam of sunshine.

“My projects?” Nash repeated, eyes narrowing. “What exactly has Lee-Lee been telling you?”

His continual use of a nickname for my lawyer only served to remind me that they had been engaged. He’s Alisa’s ex. He’s “saved” who knows how many members of the staff. And he spent the night in my sister’s room.

This could not possibly end well. But before I could say that, Mellie stepped out of my room. She couldn’t be done with the bathroom yet, so she must have heard us. Heard Nash.

“Mornin’,” he told her.

“Good morning,” she said with a smile—and then she looked at me, looked at Libby’s room, looked at the open door—and stopped smiling.





CHAPTER 49


Oren met me at the car with a cup of coffee. He didn’t say a word about my little adventure with Jameson the night before, and I didn’t ask how much he’d observed. As he opened the car door, Oren leaned toward me. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, until I realized that Alisa was sitting in the front seat. “You’re looking sedate this morning,” she commented.

I took sedate to mean moderately less rash and therefore less likely to evoke a tabloid scandal. I wondered how she would have described the scene I’d stumbled across in Libby’s room.

This is so not good.

“I hope you don’t have plans for this weekend, Avery,” Alisa said as Oren put the car in drive. “Or the next weekend.” Neither Jameson nor Xander had joined us, which meant that I had absolutely no buffer, and clearly, Alisa was royally pissed.

My lawyer can’t ground me, can she? I thought.

“I was hoping to keep you out of the limelight a bit longer,” Alisa continued pointedly, “but since that plan has gone by the wayside, you’ll be attending a pink ribbon fund raiser this Saturday night and a game next Sunday.”

“A game?” I repeated.

“NFL,” she said curtly. “You own the team. My hope is that scheduling some high-profile social outings will provide enough grist for the gossip mill that we can delay setting up your first sit-down interview until after we’ve gotten you some real media training.”

I was still trying to absorb the NFL bombshell when the words media training put a knot of dread in my throat.

“Do I have to—”

“Yes,” Alisa told me. “Yes to the gala this weekend, yes to the game next weekend, yes to the media training.”

I didn’t say another word in complaint. I’d stoked this fire—and protected Libby—knowing that, sooner or later, I’d have to pay the piper.





I got so many stares when we arrived at school that I found myself questioning whether I’d dreamed my last two days at Heights Country Day. This was what I’d expected, back on day one. Just like then, Thea was the first to make a move toward me.

“You did a thing,” she said in a tone that highly suggested what I’d done was both naughty and delicious. Inexplicably, my mind went to Jameson, to the moment on the bridge when his fingers had woven their way between mine.

“Do you really know why Tobias Hawthorne left you everything?” Thea asked, her eyes alight. “The whole school’s talking about it.”

“The whole school can talk about whatever they want.”