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His voice would have been pleasant to listen to if it weren’t for the words. “A guy who thinks he knows everything,” I muttered. “That’s new.” “A girl with a razor-sharp tongue,” he returned, silver eyes focused on mine, the ends of his lips ticking upward.
What kind of person had self-assurance that absolute? It was there in every aspect of his posture and word choice, in every interaction. Power was as much a fact of life for this guy as gravity. The world bent to the will of Grayson Hawthorne. What money couldn’t buy him, those eyes probably did.
One by one, the other occupants of the room turned to stare at me. “The remainder of my estate,” Mr. Ortega read, “including all properties, monetary assets, and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, I leave to Avery Kylie Grambs.”
Story of the century. My brain kicked back into gear because there was every indication that this wasn’t a joke. I wasn’t delusional. I wasn’t dreaming. I was an heiress.
Dearest Avery, I’m sorry. —T. T. H.
“The second this news gets out,” Oren said seriously, “you will be on the cover of every newspaper. You’ll be the leading story on every newscast, the number one trending topic on all social media. To some people, you’ll be Cinderella. To others, Marie Antoinette.”
“Avery, how does it feel to be the richest teenager in America?” “How does it feel to be the world’s youngest billionaire?”
“So,” Nash said beside me, casually eyeing his brothers. “Whose ass do I need to kick first?”
I was the billionaire now, and he was still giving orders.
Nash hooked his ankle around Xander’s leg and flipped him, pinning him to the ground. “Not today, little brother.” Nash grinned, then flashed a much darker look at the other two brothers. “Not today.”
Need him
