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Chapter one
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Austin–Bergstrom International Airport. Where the local time is three o’clock, and the temperature is ninety-six degrees.”
The captain’s muffled baritone warbles through the cabin as the plane comes to a complete stop. I stare out the window, my back aching in the cramped seat. People start checking around for their personal belongings, but I sit tight. Most of my personal belongings are in a warehouse somewhere, tagged and bagged for evidence. I left New Jersey with a single suitcase full of clothes, a duffel bag slung over my arm, and a passport full of places I’ll never see again.
“On behalf of EconoAir and the entire crew, I’d like to thank you for joining us on this trip. We are looking forward to seeing you on board again in the near future.”
Everyone shuffles toward the door as the flight attendants stand by, but not me. I’m in no hurry. When the last person deplanes, I slowly get to my feet and reach into the overhead bin.
“Thank you! Enjoy your stay!” The flight attendant offers a warm smile as I pass. For all she knows, I’m taking a vacation—a long weekend in the Lone Star State—but in reality, I’m going home.
Thirty days ago, that home was somewhere else.
East Coast heiress Ellie Cartwright. Daughter to the Queen of Crypto. My mother built an empire with the hope that someday I’d be sitting atop her golden throne. As a result, I led a charmed life. My sweet sixteen was spent on a yacht off the coast of Greece. Less than two years later, I’m flying economy to East Bumblefuck, Texas, to move in with my mother’s childhood best friend, who I’ve never met.
We lost everything.
Then I lost her.
Suitcases spin on the carousel in various colors, shapes, and sizes. I watch them go round, plucked by their owners and carried away to God knows where. The classic monogram pattern eventually comes into view. I reach for the bag and pull it free with a grunt. Armed with all my worldly possessions, I wander through the buzzing airport to find the exit.
A blast of fiery heat smacks me in the face. I reach into my duffel to find my sunglasses, but the sound of my name carries on the burning breeze. The sign comes into view first. A neon poster with the wordEllieprinted in marker.
My gaze travels to the person holding it next. He doesn’t appear much older than me. A dark swath of hair tumbles over his forehead, his chiseled jaw dappled with day-old growth. A cotton tee clings to his broad chest, but it’s the look in his sapphire eyes that draws me in. A hard stare carved from stone. It breaks me down, leaving me exposed on the second worst day of my life.
“I’m Ellie. Wow, it’s hot!”
“Figures,” he grumbles and turns to leave.
“Aren’t you going to help with my bags?”
“Oh, where are my manners?” He turns back with an evil grin, exposing his straight white teeth. When he extends his hand, I start to sling my bag off my shoulder, but he just laughs. The malicious sound resonates in his chest like thunder. "My name’s Jace, not your fucking servant. Carry your own damn bags.”
The force of his ire makes me jerk my head back. I stare dumbfounded as he spins on his heel and begins walking away.
What side of hell did I walk into? Because this sure as shit isn't what I expected. Whoever hurt this asshole did a good fucking job.
He stops at a rusty old pickup truck and pulls open the passenger door but doesn’t wait. It hangs open as he rounds the hood and climbs inside.
With my heart in my throat, I wheel my luggage to the truck and peer inside the dusty cab. “Um. Where should I put them?”
He thumbs over his shoulder. “Throw them in the back.”
My mouth opens and shuts as I contemplate his ridiculous statement. “This is a Louis Vuitton bag. It probably cost more than the truck that’s transporting it, and you want me to just throw it in the back?”
He narrows his gaze. “Listen, princess. You’re not in New York anymore. You have ten seconds to haul ass and get in, or I leave without you. Choice is yours. I honestly don’t give a shit either way.”
I don't know what I expected when I stepped off that plane, but this? This was not it. I hoped I could leave people like him in the past and start over. The nasty comments and rude remarks. I feel like I'm living in my own personal hell, no matter where I go.
I cross my arms over my chest, jutting my hip. “Will you at least help me get it in the truck?”
With an incensed eye roll, he jumps down from the cab and wrenches the handle on the tailgate. It lowers with a squeal. Hegrabs my suitcase as if it weighs nothing and hurls it in the back. A small gasp escapes me as he chucks my belongings as if they mean nothing. Maybe they don't to him, but to me? That bag is all I have left. Now it’s sitting on the burning metal, the beautiful leather as beaten and bruised as my pride. Without a word, he slams the tailgate back up, then jumps into the driver’s seat.
I pull myself into the passenger side and settle in. The cab smells of stale smoke and sweat regardless of the scented tree swinging from the rearview. He lights a cigarette before pulling away. I offer a sidelong glance, waving my hand. “Do you have to do that in the truck?”
He pinches the filter between his teeth and warbles around it. “You could walk.”
Rolling the window down, I turn toward the fresh air, but I’m greeted with nothing but sweltering heat. I let out a frustrated groan. “Can you at least turn on the A/C?”
