Page 16 of The Inheritance Games

“Maxine!” Even over the phone, I could hear Max’s mom in the background.

“Fox, Mama. I saidfox.As in ‘for the sake of foxes and their furry little tails…’” There was a brief pause and then: “Avery? I have to go.”

My stomach muscles tightened. “Talk soon?”

“Very soon,” Max promised. “And in the meantime: Open. The. Letter.”

She hung up. I hung up. I put my thumb underneath the lip of the envelope—but a knock at the door saved me from following through.

Back in the suite, I found Oren positioned at the door. “Who is it?” I asked him.

“Grayson Hawthorne,” Oren replied. I stared at the door, and Oren elaborated. “If my men considered him a threat, he never would have made it to our floor. I trust Grayson. But if you don’t want to see him…”

“No,” I said.What am I doing?It was late, and I doubted American royalty took kindly to being dethroned. But there was something about the way Grayson had looked at me, from the first time we’d met.…

“Open the door,” I told Oren. He did, and then he stepped back.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Grayson wasn’t theheiranymore, but you wouldn’t have known it from his tone.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I told him, pulling my robe tighter around me.

“I’ve spent the past hour telling myself much the same thing, and yet, here I am.” His eyes were pools of gray, his hair unkempt, like I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d lost everything today.

“Grayson—” I said.

“I don’t know how you did this.” He cut me off, his voice dangerous and soft. “I don’t know what hold you had over my grandfather, or what kind of con you’re running here.”

“I’m not—”

“I’m talking right now, Ms. Grambs.” He placed his hand flat on the door. I’d been wrong about his eyes. They weren’t pools. They were ice. “I haven’t a clue how you pulled this off, but I will find out. I see you now. I know what you are and what you’re capable of, and there isnothingI wouldn’t do to protect my family. Whatever game you’re playing here, no matter how long this con—I will find the truth, and God help you when I do.”

Oren stepped into my peripheral vision, but I didn’t wait for him to act. I pushed the door forward, hard enough to send Grayson back, then slammed it closed. Heart pounding, I waited for him to knock again, to shout through the door.Nothing.Slowly, my head bowed, my eyes drawn like magnet to metal by the envelope in my hands.

With one last glance at Oren, I retreated to my bedroom.Open. The. Letter.This time, I did it, removing a card from the envelope. The body of the message was only two words long. I stared at the page, reading the salutation, the message, and the signature, over and over again.

Dearest Avery,

I’m sorry.

—T. T. H.

CHAPTER 13

Sorry? Sorry for what?The question was still ringing in my mind the next morning. For once in my life, I’d slept late. I found Oren and Alisa in our suite’s kitchen talking softly.

Too softly for me to hear.

“Avery.” Oren noticed me first. I wondered if he’d told Alisa about Grayson. “There are some security protocols I’d like to go over with you.”

Like not opening doors to Grayson Hawthorne?

“You’re a target now,” Alisa told me crisply.

Given that she’d been so insistent that the Hawthornes weren’t a threat, I had to ask: “A target for what?”

“Paparazzi, of course. The firm is keeping a lid on the story for the time being, but that won’t last, and there are other concerns.”

“Kidnapping.” Oren didn’t put any particular emphasis on that word. “Stalking. People will make threats—they always do. You’re young, and you’re female, and that will make it worse. With your sister’s permission, I’ll arrange a detail for her as well, as soon as she gets back.”