CHAPTER FIVE #2
“One.”
“What?”
“Two.”
My heart slows down as I realize what he’s doing. “Are you…”
“Three.”
“You’re counting. You’re really—”
His chest moves with a sharp, impatient breath, cutting me off.
And then he does what he said he’d do. He reaches in, grabs my arm, and yanks me out.
I’m still getting my bearings from that when he spins me around.
He pulls at my arm, making me gasp with pain.
Before I can turn around to look at him, I feel him inch closer.
His heat spans my spine and his thick rasp fills my ear.
“Who I am don’t matter. All that matters is you’re the Turner Princess and this is Rawhide.
So again, you’ll keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told. ”
With that, he gives me a shove toward the porch steps.
My stomach bottoms out, fearing that I’m going to fall, but at the last second I’m able to catch my balance.
All of a sudden I can move my arms. Somehow he untied the knot without me realizing, and now my hands are free.
I want to look back at him. I don’t know why.
But I want to take him in as if for the last time before I scale these steps, but I don’t.
He’s right. Who he is doesn’t matter. All that matters is I’m a Turner and this is Rawhide.
That my best friend may be inside this mansion.
So I bound up the steps, my neck prickling from his stare, and push open the door.
As soon as I do, a gush of a breath escapes me because the first thing I see is my best friend running down the hallway, her eyes on me.
And then I’m not thinking of anything else but wrapping my arms around her and making sure she is okay.
I was right when I said it was my fault that my best friend is here. Only I didn’t know how awfully right I was about it.
The reason Reverie was taken was because they mistakenly thought she was me, Peyton Turner.
And why not? This whole thing started because of me, didn’t it?
Because of the assignment Reverie completed for me.
The one where she had to interview a prison inmate via letters.
Only she wrote those letters as Peyton, and she thought she was writing to an inmate named Bo Porter.
It turned out that neither were who they said they were. Bo Porter? While he was an inmate there, he just wasn’t who was writing to Reverie. Instead, it was Arsenal Grayson, or Arsen, as everyone calls him. Who was doing time for the attempted murder of none other than my father.
When I said people have attempted to kill my father in the past, I wasn’t lying. I also wasn’t lying about how all of them have ended up dead themselves. Well, except one man, Arsen. And again, it would make sense because he’s a Grayson. If my father is untouchable, the Graysons are immortal.
I know there are three Grayson brothers, the oldest being the patriarch of the family, given their parents died a long time ago.
In all my memories, the oldest Grayson, Marsden, has been the main villain.
The one who oversees everything on the ranch, who controls his two younger brothers and every move their family makes against mine.
And I will admit that I never really paid much attention to the other Grayson brothers until eight years ago, when the middle brother, Arsen, broke into our ranch and tried to kill my father.
I was eleven at the time and away at camp, but everyone said that it was the worst, most dangerous thing to ever happen between our two families.
So much so that my older brother, already on his way to take over the Turner empire, forced me and my mom to move to the city for our own safety.
Of course Reverie came with us; I wouldn’t have left her behind in that hellhole.
Fast-forward eight years, and here we are.
Arsen is out of prison and he wants payback.
What better way to get that than to seize the Turner land, once and for all?
And apparently, in order to accomplish that, he needs the Turner Princess.
He thought Reverie was the princess, but of course, she isn’t.
When he found out the truth, he had my stalker bring me to Rawhide.
In short, my best friend got caught up in the middle of it all, and again, it’s my fault. Getting her to safety is my number one priority right now, and they say they’ll let us go once they have what they want.
Which is why I’ve agreed to cooperate with them.
I didn’t know I was this valuable, but if they need me to get a piece of my family’s land, then so be it.
It’s not as if I have any attachment to it.
It could all burn to the ground for all I care.
I also don’t care about my father and hold no loyalty to him apart from what he forces out of me.
In fact, this is the perfect way to mess with him without even having to lift a finger.
Let the decades-old enemies kill each other while I sit back and watch.
So there. All mysteries solved; all questions answered. So why do I think something is missing? That there’s something they’re not telling me? No, not them, him specifically.
A knock at the door jolts me out of my thoughts and I look up from where I’m sitting at the end of the bed as it opens.
In walks Haven Grayson. The first thing you notice about her is how beautiful she is.
Stunningly, so. With her raven-colored hair, all shiny and long—longer than even mine, and mine goes down to the crack of my butt—and her dark eyes and dusky skin, she’s one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever come across.
Her almond-shaped eyes, wide forehead, and coloring may be the result of some Native American blood in her.
Whatever her heritage, as I said, she is beautiful, and she looks like she belongs here in her feminine plaid shirt, washed-out jeans, and cowboy boots.
A quintessential cowgirl. She also happens to be the mistress of the house, given that she’s Marsden’s wife.
A very odd and unexpected pairing. Only because Marsden has to be at least forty, if not older, and Haven looks like she’s close to my and Reverie’s age, maybe a few years older.
Standing at the door, she says, “Hey.”
I spring up to my feet. “Hey.”
She regards me carefully. “You finding everything okay?”