Page 12 of Prince Of Greed

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Page 12 of Prince Of Greed

I could see she was hopeful for an excuse to wander away.

“After you.” I raised my glass and followed her to the garden.

Hundreds of misty white lights were strung above the stone patio. Tall, thin topiaries wrapped in twinkling fairy lights bracketed the walkway that led out to a large fountain that spilled down into a coy pond.

Evie stopped and sat down on a stone bench near the farthest end of the pond. Classical music from in-ground speakers helped drown out the lingering chatter of the crowd coming through the open doors. It was a balmy night for Southern California. The rare looming rain clouds threatened overhead but would likely travel south or out to sea before a drop made landfall.

Evie took a drink from her glass and sighed. “As much as I hate to admit it, the garden looks beautiful.”

I slipped one hand into my pocket and peered down at her. I had given her space, but the goose bumps on the tops of her shoulders were begging me to come closer.

“I would give anything for my mother to be the one throwing these parties. Or my brother to be the one ushered out to shake the hands of the rich and annoying,” she said, her eyes adrift in the night lights and memories of her lost family.

She’d give anything to have her mother. If she were anyone else, I would have had an advantage—a tall, dark, mysterious stranger who could grant an impossible wish in exchange for a piece of herself that she would hardly miss until the end of her life.

“I’m sure my father has recited the story to you, but my mother, sister, and brother died in an accident. Always gets him the sympathy votes.”

I did know the story but nodded and gave a sullen frown. “It sounds as if your mother is still well-loved and missed.”

She smiled down to her lap then lifted her gaze to meet mine, sadness welling behind her soft features.

“And I’d bet her choices in wine and hors d’oeuvres would have been much better,” I finished.

Her gentle laugh eased away her heartache and lured her into the comfort of a stranger.

“She wasn’t much for wine. But she could mix up one hell of a batch of margaritas . . . or so I’m told.”

“That is a skill I admire,” I said low and watched her inch closer.

There was a moment of silence between us, a transition from the deep that had been consuming her world to the shallows of the present.

“It must be nice working with your brother,” she said.

“He understands me in ways most others wouldn’t. Being brought up the way we were makes connections outside of our family difficult to maintain. It’s easier to stick together.” Not a lie, and a truth she would likely wish she still had.

“That’s nice,” she said with sincerity. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Dozens.” Another truth, but this one perked her ears.

“Are you serious? What, were you born in a cult?” She wrinkled her nose and snickered.

“You could say that.” I shrugged then took a long sip of my drink.

“Wow. That’s—”

“Exhausting,” I finished for her. “But I tend to keep up with my closest six brothers regularly.”

“Well, sure. With a family that big, you’d have to pick your favorites. Though for Oro to be one of the close ones, the others must be insufferable.”

I let the amused huff from my chest reach my face. “He has nothing but kind things to say about you.”

“Wonderful. Was one of the comments on my eye color because as far as I know, he’s only ever looked at my chest when speaking to me.” She rolled her eyes but gave a quipped, crooked smile.

She was witty, and from what I could tell from this conversation, she was kind. Not exactly what I had been expecting from the daughter of a snake politician. She had known privilege but had retained a level head. Trauma would do that for a human. Getting close to her in order to use her as the weapon to coerce her father into becoming my puppet was going to be more pleasurable than I had initially thought.

I crouched down so our faces were level, but her eyes fell to my lips.

“I’ll remind him how beautifully green they are. Like polished jade.” I spoke slowly, wrapping intent around each word to stir the butterflies in her stomach.




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