The Secret Heir

ach as I stand on the empty tarmac. In my silk party dress and open spring coat, I shiver in the December chill. It matches how

prompting adults to muse about us wedding one day. It would join my family's shipping empire with Bastian's father Cyr

rseas for school, our childhood marriage pact faded in my memory. Bastian became no mor

following true passions instead of just staid duty. Our electric connection had to stay hidden though. My pedigree

brooding artist beau from Manhattan high society. With

n resurfaced asking for my hand in marriage. One sweeping transatlantic call to my father delivering the

to Coney Island beach far from expectations. Our future now belonged to the past - to a curre

from my father's imposing study. By next day's formal family brunch, his society friends already

cally downstairs about wedding venues and guest lists. Mere days were all it took to

matically behind him. My stomach drops as he embraces me in loud kisses that make me shrink

les every inch the cultured aristocrat home to claim his promised bride. But it's all pageantry and spectacle for the circling photograp

tant feet across the frigid concrete, blinking back confused tears. Because I know somewhere beyond the popping flashbulbs lies

appear worthy of the prized heir and stallion he has evidently groomed his son to become. Bastian lightly steadies me after I stumble on icy pavement, shooting his

nipping at my uncovered hair. "Ladies first!" Bastian pronounces with a grand flourish. "You mus

I instantly recognize as belonging to Brynn Davenport – the spoiled blonde horse heiress who was my freshman roommate at the elit

six-figure-earning ranch owners out West who wouldn't know a baccarat champagne flute from Baccarat crystal. I shoot

ay from the plush leather seats closest to the well-stocked bar. I recognize only Brynn from her mane of cornsilk curls. The other two unkno

almost wickedly, crystal flute in hand as Bastian possessively squeezes my knee. "We girls all have so very muc

immense leather captain's chair with slow menace, something undeniably sinister glinting in his hooded eyes. All assessing gazes regard me with unsettling expectation until the aircraft engin