The Heiresses of Sterling Grove

PROLOGUE

Brandon got up in the middle of the night.

A cool breeze crept through the open window.

Moonlight traced the blonde sleeping in his bed, casting a pale cyan glow that sculpted her into living marble.

Then, as if out of pure spite—just for the petty thrill of defying him even in her dreams—she shifted, shattering the masterpiece Brandon had built in his mind.

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

“How did I even end up here?”

The way the light fell over her, the kicked-off sheets leaving her bare, the sheer serenity of her face. It was perfect.

He reached for the camera on the nightstand and slipped the lens cap off. Dialing up the exposure, he adjusted the settings to capture the moment. The shutter clicked, sharp and loud against the dead silence of the night.

Moonlight spun her blonde hair into a luminous halo. Her smooth, pale breasts, the crook of her bent leg carving a sharp angle against the curve of her waist... She was just so...

Too damn perfect, the thought echoed in his mind.

“What are you doing? Come to bed, sweetheart.”

She murmured the words without opening her eyes, already drifting back under.

“Be right there.”

Once again, Brandon marveled at how impossibly lucky he was. It felt like hitting the lottery—a once-in-a-lifetime miracle that was never supposed to strike twice.

He looked down at the camera in his hands. Photography was one of the few things in this world he truly loved doing. Everything else in his life had been a mess, left entirely at the whim of fate.

Now, however, a new certainty had surged to the top of the very short list of things he knew for sure: he wanted to be right here.

It felt vital that he had woken up in the middle of the night; this was a singular moment.

That sudden snap of conviction sparked a thrill for the future unlike anything he had ever felt before.

It was so intense it was almost terrifying. Almost.

Setting the camera aside, he eased back onto the mattress, moving carefully so he wouldn't disturb her. But as he braced a hand against the bed, moonlight glinted off the gold bracelet that would never leave his wrist.

It was practically unheard of. But every once in a while, somebody beat the odds and won the lottery twice.