Page 4 of The Forsaken Heir

brIELLE

“ D ouble chocolate chip frappuccino, please,” I said to the barista.

“Sure, what size?” she asked.

“The biggest one you have. Do you have a five-gallon bucket? I’ll take that.”

The barista laughed. “I’ll do my best. Name for the order?”

“Brielle, but use Elle,” I said with a smile as I took the receipt from her.

Standing off to the side to wait, I allowed myself to enjoy the bitter smell of the roasting beans and brewing coffee.

Regardless of the time of day, the tangy aroma always reminded me of the morning.

I wish it was still morning, then I wouldn’t have had such a shitty, frustrating day at work so far.

My job at the sewing store wasn’t usually pretty low on the stress meter, but today had been the exception to the rule.

“Excuse me,” a voice said from beside me.

Turning, I found a man roughly my own age, around twenty-six or seven, smiling at me.

I frowned. “Uh, yes?”

His gaze slid from my face down my body, then back to meet my eyes again.

“I don’t usually do this, but you are really gorgeous,” he said.

My body was one of my defining features, and I knew it.

My shoulders were broad for a woman, but the generous curves of the rest of my body softened that feature.

I had big boobs, a round butt, and I was muscular in a healthy way.

Although I was still a little plump around the middle, it sat atop some hard-earned muscle.

I wore a size sixteen dress, but I was comfortable in my skin, and I think that confidence helped.

My wolf shifter genes did lend a lot to my muscle mass, but I also loved running and swimming, which did even more to keep me healthy and as fit as I could be.

Honestly, I cared more about health and fitness than I did some generalized fantasy of what a woman should look like.

Over the years, I’d grown accustomed to random men and women complimenting my curves as well as my green eyes and chestnut hair. A woman who’d hit on me once had called the combo striking . Typically, I let people down easy, but I’d had a rough day.

“Thanks. It’s the steroids, actually. You should see all the acne on my back.” I did my best to keep a straight face as I winked at him.

He blinked in confusion and surprise. “Oh, uh, I’m not sure that…uh?—”

“Elle! Order up!”

“Oh, that’s me,” I said. “Gotta go.”

Leaving the man to his embarrassment, I hurried to grab my order.

I nodded a thanks to the barista again as I tucked a straw into the cup and left the coffee shop.

Outside, the cool air kissed my cheeks, and the misty rain stuck to my skin.

The temperature was pleasantly chilly, like a perfect fall day should be.

Taking a draw of my drink through the straw, I sighed in contentment as the sweet, semi-frozen liquid hit my taste buds.

“Yeah, that hits the spot.”

Again, my thoughts returned to work. It had been such a pain-in-the-ass day.

Some lady had come in demanding a certain fabric, something with a paisley print on it, because she was making Sunday dresses for her grandkids.

A simple enough task, but after showing her four different bolts of fabric, she’d thrown a hissy fit because none of them were the right color.

She’d spent the next hour badmouthing the store and doing her level best to make my entire day miserable.

When she’d finally left, I felt as though I’d run a marathon.

As I walked back to the sewing shop, I tried my best to look on the bright side.

I was doing this because I wanted to, not because I had to.

I’d taken the job to stay busy and learn from Lorainne, the shop owner.

Ever since I was a little girl, I’d wanted to learn to sew and make pretty clothes.

Lorraine gave me free lessons on my off days and whenever the shop wasn’t busy.

She paid me minimum wage, but the lessons more than made up for the money.

Besides, I didn’t need to be paid. My family gave me a generous stipend to stay hidden and away.

I was the disgrace of the Laurent family.

A black spot on the name of the most powerful shifter family.

When I was younger, depression and sadness had always accompanied any thoughts about my exile, but after living the life of an ostracized eldest child, I’d grown to accept it.

Hell, plenty of people would give their left arm if they didn’t have to worry about money and got to live in a fancy apartment that someone else paid for.

The bitter reality of your family not wanting you could be forgotten.

After all this time, I’d come to believe that the bonds of friendship were stronger than those of family—even if Delphine was my only friend.

“Welcome back, sweetie,” Lorraine called as I stepped back into the shop.

“Hey. Was it busy while I was gone?”

Lorraine turned from the case where she was unpacking sewing machine bobbins and rolled her eyes at me.

“After that”—she glanced around to make sure no one was in the store—“ bitch this morning, I wouldn’t mind if we didn’t have another customer all day.”

I snorted and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Hearing the seventy-year-old woman cuss was always the highlight of my day.

“Elle, could you get that box of red thread off the shelf in the back?” she asked as I rounded the corner.

With my impressive stature, I towered over all the other women who worked here. Standing at five-eleven, I was a good five inches taller than the next tallest employee. My height meant I could easily reach things on high shelves, so Lorraine and the others didn’t have to use a step stool.

“Sure thing.” I put my drink down and headed to the shelf.

Lorraine grinned from ear to ear as I reached up—my feet flat on the ground, mind you—and grabbed the box.

“I should pay you more just for that,” she said.

“Don’t mention it,” I said. “I’m just glad my giant ass can help do something.”

“Don’t call yourself an ass, dear. It’s not ladylike.”

Lifting an eyebrow, I grinned at her. “Didn’t you call a customer a bitch, like, two seconds ago? Is that ladylike?”

Lorraine narrowed her eyes playfully. “Don’t be a smart-ass. That’s not ladylike, either.”

We both burst out laughing, and only barely managed to contain ourselves when the bell above the door tinkled to let us know a new customer had arrived.

“Hello,” I said with a bright smile. “How can I help you?”

“Hi,” she said. “I came in last week and purchased some of that rainbow-colored faux fur. I need another two yards of it. Do you still have that in stock?” she asked.

Of course we did. That ugly stuff had been on the shelf as long as I could remember. I had no idea why anyone would ever want it, but a sale was a sale.

“Sure,” I said. “Let me grab it.”

This item, along with most of the others that rarely sold, sat high up on a shelf at the back. Again, my height and strength helped me, and I dragged the heavy bolt down. The customer raised her eyebrows in appreciative surprise. Ten minutes later, she left with her bag of fabric and receipt.

“You know, Elle,” Lorraine said from across the store. “My grandson broke up with his girlfriend a few weeks ago.”

I sipped at the last of my frappuccino and slowly turned to face her.

“We’re not doing this again, are we, Lorraine?” I asked heavily.

Lorraine sighed and hurried across the store, moving gracefully for someone her age. She put a hand on my arm and smiled at me.

“Blake is a good boy. Handsome, smart. You could do worse,” she said.

“I’m not really looking for romance.”

Lorraine clucked her tongue in disappointment. “You can’t blame me for wanting a granddaughter-in-law who’s such a catch.”

“A catch?” I laughed. “You just want someone to reach stuff on shelves outside the shop.”

“I’ll have you know, my grandson Blake is six feet tall. He can reach anything.”

I snorted, and rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. They always say they’re six feet tall. I have yet to meet someone who hasn’t said that, even when I’m looking down at them.”

Lorraine pursed her lips. “Well, now that I think of it, I suppose he may be a tad under six foot.”

“Told ya,” I said and went back to unpacking supplies.

Lorraine waved a hand through the air dismissively. “Even if not my grandson, I’d love to see you with someone, Elle. You deserve it. Sometimes,” she said, smiling sadly at me, “I get the impression that you’re lonely.”

“I’m not lonely,” I lied. “I have my friend Delphine. We hang out a lot. I’m a homebody, Lorraine.” I sliced through the tape on the box with a bit more force than was necessary. “It’s fine. I’m in no hurry to find a guy. Seriously.”

“Mmhmm.” Lorraine didn’t look as if she believed a single word that came out of my mouth.

Thankfully, she let it go and went about preparing the back room for the needlepoint class that would be starting soon.

As I worked, I allowed my mind to drift.

Unfortunately, instead of drifting to something pleasant like the new book I planned to read or what I wanted for dinner, it went to the memory of them turning me out all those years ago.

While breaking down boxes to put in the dumpster, I recalled the almost-disgusted look on Mom’s face as she handed my suitcase to Delphine.

“You take care of yourself,” she’d said. “Your nanny will take care of everything.”

Delphine was now pretty much my only friend and companion, but she’d begun her time as a nanny to a teenage shifter who had no ability to shift. A girl who was a blight on the shining family name.

“I’ll take good care of her, Mrs. Laurent,” Delphine had said, smiling warmly at me.