CHAPTER 61: BILLIONAIRE BODY SNATCH

ELIZABETH HERALD

"What family?" I muttered. Then I smiled. "I’d rather be alone than with them, so it works out. But being drunk sure would make this evening more fun."

I picked up my water glass, which had been reduced to melting ice, and sipped what liquid was available. I would have drunk wine, but Gardenia had pulled her usual tricks so that I wasn’t served alcohol. If she could have forbidden me from eating the Carters’ food, she would have. Evil Bitch was really into the whole "death by a thousand cuts," and she found tiny, horrible ways to inflict pain.

"Why hasn’t anyone refilled your water?" asked my dinner companion.

"The same reason no one has offered me wine. The service at this end of the table is non-existent."

He lifted his hand. Poof! Out of thin air, a server appeared. "Please fill Miss Herald’s water glass, and keep it that way. Bring us ... oh, a 2018 Domaine de la Romanee-Conti Les Petits Monts. Clear Miss Herald’s plate. As for me, I only want the main course—don’t bother with the green stuff."

The server, a young man dressed in a white shirt and black pants, inclined his head. Then he swept my plate away. Moments later, he returned with a fresh glass of water and the wine. He uncorked the bottle and poured our glasses. I barely tasted the wine before the server came back with a serving of pistachio-encrusted salmon.

"Is there anything else you would like, sir?"

"No, thank you."

The server departed, and I watched Mr. Gorgeous study the fish.

"Do you wish it was pizza, too?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I do." Still, he lifted his knife and fork and dug in.

I drank my wine, enjoying the buzz it gave me. My shoulders relaxed. As soon as I finished, he poured me another glass. And then a third one. This was good. This was really, really good.

"So which Carter son are you?" I asked.

"How do you know I’m a Carter?"

"Because you made a server appear like you’re Houdini, and you asked for an $8,000 bottle of wine without blinking. Who does that if they’re not familiar with—and have access to—the Carter wine cellar?"

"Fair," he replied. "There are three Carter brothers. Guess which one I am."

"The best one?"

"Flattery. I like it. What reward do you want? A hint?"

"Yes."

"Garrett is the youngest, and he’s at university. James is the middle child, and he’s doing an apology tour in Europe for his most recent scandal."

"That was more of an answer than a hint," I teased. "That means you’re Winston, the oldest."

"Or as you call me, Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner."

Oh, crap. How embarrassing. Heat suffused my face, and I pressed my hands against my cheeks. "I don’t have a filter because I don’t hang out with other human beings that often. I’m sorry."

"Don’t be. I like unfiltered Elizabeth." His lips quirked. "But I prefer my middle name, which is Blake."

"Blake." I drank more water, hoping it would cool me down. "My sister Blair is going to marry you."

"Oh, really? You don’t think River has a shot?"

"Blair plays dirty." I tilted my head, thinking. "You know what? River does, too."

"It’s almost like I don’t have a say in my own marriage."

"That’s true. You’re really choosing which poison is gonna kill you."

"That’s dark. True, but dark." He picked up my glass of water. "Drink this before you indulge in more alcohol."

I did as he asked, and then he poured me wine.

"What about you?" he asked. "Why aren’t you in the running for my affections?"

"Oh, you don’t want me. Marriage at CEO level is about business. I’m not the daughter to seal the deal for real." I paused and drunkenly considered my impromptu rhyme. I giggled. "Seal the deal for real." I giggled again.

"You’re adorable."

"Yeah, that’s me, all right." I rolled my eyes.

"If I have to pick someone to marry, why not you?"

"Can’t. I’m engaged."

"To who?"

I reached into my purse, unzipped the side pocket, and pulled out my most precious possession—a polished wooden ring with a daisy etched on it. I showed it to Blake. "See?"

He took the ring and studied it carefully. "Where did you get this?"

"From my first love. He called me Daisy, and I called him Bacon."

He looked at me in disbelief. "Bacon?"

"I liked bacon, and I liked him, so the name made sense to my eight-year-old self." I tucked the ring back into my purse. "He was... twelve, I think. He was the first person in my life to look out for me. He offered protection."

"From what?"

"Boogeymen," I said.

He removed the wine glass from my reach. "You’ve achieved intoxication. Have some water."

"Aw, you’re like a hubby." I drank the water. It did not taste as good as the wine. Heat flushed my face and neck. "I’m hot."

"Yes, you are."

"Lame." I put my fingers into an L-shape and raised my hand to my forehead. "Maybe you do belong in the losers’ section."

"I meant that I can see sweat on your brow. Let’s go outside for some air."

He got out of his chair, placed the napkin on his plate, and came to me. I stood up on wobbly legs—thank you, wine—but I managed to extract myself without falling on my face. Go, me! Alas, I was wearing high heels, and it was like trying to balance on two thin knife blades. (They’re called stilettos, so I guess I was?)

I stumbled, feeling my knees give way, and oh look, my face was about to meet the marble floor.

Okay. Cool. Guess this was how I died. Bonus points for embarrassing my stepmother with an ungraceful death in front of her billionaire friends.

Whoops!

Blake caught me.

I was pressed against his chest like a marshmallow squeezed between graham crackers in a s’more. Envy me, the marshmallow, because this Carter brother was built like that guy who played Sherlock Superman Witcher. Shit, what was his name? Henry Cavity? Cavalier... no, no, Cavill. Henry Cavill.

Blake smelled wonderful. I barely resisted the urge to bite his neck. I stared up into his eyes, and yep, I was drunkety-drunk-drunk.

Was the delicious wine why my heart raced?

Or was it him?

Why did he stare at me so soulfully? Like he knew me and wanted me and—wooooow. I’d lost my mind.

But I couldn’t look away.

I saw all the things I didn’t dare yearn for in his gaze. Promises that could never be fulfilled because I wasn’t allowed. I was the unwanted child in the Herald family. I didn’t know what my stepmother hated more... the fact my father’s heart still belonged to my dead mother or that I was a physical reminder of that love. If I only had to worry about myself, I’d walk away. But Gardenia had taken my maternal grandfather hostage, and my fear for him made me compliant.

"Elizabeth Evonne Herald!" The shrill voice of my stepmother rang loud enough to stop all dinner conversations. Every pair of eyes turned to us. I had no doubt she’d raised her voice to catch everyone’s attention. There was nothing she loved more than scolding me in front of others.

"You should let me go," I whispered, "lest you feel the wrath of my stepmonster."

"No way, Elizabeth Evonne. I’m the only thing between you and the floor."

"You’re cute, but I pick the floor." Behind me, I heard the scrape of chairs and the clack of high heels. Two pairs. Oh, God. Here came Blair, too. "Incoming! Save yourself." I tried to push away, but the idiot holding me tightened his grip.

"Winston! I’m so terribly sorry. This is why we don’t allow her to have alcohol." I felt Gardenia’s skeletal fingers close around my upper arm. Her nails dug into my flesh and pierced my skin. I closed my eyes, horrified to feel the hot press of tears. Well, this was going great. I could only imagine what punishments awaited me at home.

"Here, let me take her." She tugged my arm, but Blake refused to relinquish me.

Gardenia tugged harder. "You don’t need the headache of dealing with our problematic daughter. Besides, Blair’s been waiting to talk to you."

That’s a helluva segue, Gardenia, I thought sourly. You’re pushing Blair at him while he’s still holding me.

My sister, ever the obedient daughter, grasped his shoulder. "I saved the seat next to mine."

Blake stared my sister down, and she released him. She was a platinum blonde with beauty-queen looks and was used to men stumbling over themselves. Blake’s negative reaction to her presence annoyed her. Her lips formed a pout, but Blake was uninterested in her pique. Instead, he turned his attention to Gardenia. "Let. Go."

Stunned at the fury in his voice, Gardenia released me. She regained her composure quickly. "I’m sorry. It’s just... she’s a terrible drunk. I don’t want her to further embarrass you or your family."

"Elizabeth is not and will never be an embarrassment to me," said Blake. He leaned down and scooped me up. I draped my arms around his neck and hung on for dear life. "I gave her the wine. I’ll take responsibility for her."

He turned his back on my stepmother (do not recommend) and walked out of the dining room.