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His words sank deep into my skin like a bullet piercing my heart. Because he was right. I’d spent years living on military bases around the world. Even if he wasn’t my biological father, Colonel John Hale was still my dad in every way that counted. He risked his life to save me.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Do what you have to do. But I’d rather not see another parent killed in front of me.”
“So it’s settled,” Grandfather said with a victorious smirk. “You’ll marry Rhys Vanderbilt this weekend. And then we’ll be done with The Lucaya Group once and for all.”
This weekend?
Fuck.
ChapterFifty
GRACE
Cole was up to something, pacing the halls all day and speaking on the phone with his cousin in hushed tones. He said he had a plan that would hopefully save me from this misery.
But I accepted my fate.
I had to marry Rhys.
We drove to the Salvatore Estate to discuss our strategy the morning before my wedding. Two armed guards stood outside the call box with machine guns strapped to their backs.
The guards waved us forward, and Cole floored the pedal down the long, paved driveway and halted in front of a covered garage. He parked beside Marcello’s Maserati GranTurismo and got out of the Ferrari.
The old mansion was built on the edge of a cliff in the early 1900s and reminded me of a medieval castle. All the houses on Founders Way differed. Fort Marshall had the feel of a military base by design, hence the nickname. The Cormac Compound was a stone monstrosity that looked like something fromCoastal Living.
Then there was Drake’s house. The Battle Fortress replicated Tony Stark’s Razor Point mansion from the Iron Man movies. Wellington Manor was to my right, the last house on the street, and it looked like a Southern plantation.
As we strolled up to the front doors, they swung inward as Bastian moved through them. Dressed in his usual ten thousand dollar suit, he looked like the CEO of Atlantic Airlines.
We looked nothing alike. The women on the Adams side were all blonde with light blue eyes. Bastian had his father’s looks. Tall, well over six feet, with short chestnut brown hair and gray eyes you would never know he was an Adams.
“Grace,” he said with a smile. “I hate how we keep seeing each other under shitty circumstances. But you need to hear this before the wedding.”
He was jittery, tugging at his black tie and awkwardly shifting his stance. We followed him into the house, down the main hallway tiled in Carrara marble.
The Salvatores were second-generation Americans. Of all the Founders, they were the least legitimate. Arlo Salvatore took their family from criminals to businessmen. Though they still dabbled in many shady deals, especially those involving The Knights.
We entered a large sitting room off the main corridor. Arlo, Luca, Damian, and Marcello sat on couches and armchairs with glasses of amber liquid in their hands. Alex clung to Luca’s side. She was beautiful, a blonde bombshell.
I waved to Alex and smiled. A gesture Alex returned with her free hand, rubbing her stomach with the other. She was pregnant with one of the Salvatore brothers’ babies, but I didn’t know which one was the father.
We sat on a couch across from Luca, who studied us with a drink raised to his mouth. He was always so cold.
“Our grandfather is luring you into a trap,” Bastian said after a long silence. “He’s been lying about everything. Last night, we received proof that your father is not The Lucaya Group’s leader. And he has no ties to the Russian Mafia.” My cousin scrubbed a hand over his face, his eyes meeting mine. “Your father didn’t send his brother after you. He didn’t order Andrey to kill Willow. His brother planned to use you to get Viktor to do something illegal for him.”
I turned to look at Cole. “Is this what you’ve been keeping from me?”
He nodded. “I wanted to wait until I had all of the information from Drake to tell you. And it’s only fair you hear it from Bastian since this news affects him, too.”
My eyes flicked back to Bastian. “Then why is Fitzy using my wedding to get to my father?”
“Because Viktor was an intelligence officer.” He shifted the glass to his other hand. “He discovered something about our grandfather, so Fitzy eliminated him.”
“So my dad is not a bad guy?”
Bastian rolled his shoulders. “Viktor’s family is Russian Mafia. But no, your dad isn’t part of their business. He had nothing to do with Alex’s attempted rape or Willow Marshall’s death.”
I covered my mouth with my hand, eyes wide. “Rape?” Then I turned to look at Alex. “I’m so sorry.”
