Page 5 of Mad Love

3

Blaise

“Grandfather, why didn’t you get my okay first?”

As we watch the guests walk in circles to music for the fifth and final time, Grandfather dropped news I’m not ready for.

The prize for the last cake walk is a day with me at my second Montana home. Of course he would tell me last minute. There’s less of a chance of talking him out of it.

“Sweetheart, you’re so lonely there. It’s time you have a visitor.”

“I’m there alone for a reason. My place is my sanctuary.” I school my facial expression. The partygoers will have a field day if my grandfather and I have a disagreement in the open. “It’ll be strange having a complete stranger there. Why didn’t you stipulate that it be at my Montana estate?”

“What’s the fun in that? You hold parties there all the time. Somewhere more private, the ‘road less traveled,’ shall we say, is more enticing.”

“Grandfather—”

“Blaise, the cake walk was your idea. Look how well it’s doing.”

He’s right. I did the head count, and the cake walk is a success, bringing in money that’ll help families find their missing loved ones. Each person who plays is paying ten thousand dollars.

“You’re right. My apologies.”

“No need, sweetheart. I want what’s best for you.”

“Invasion of my privacy is what’s best?”

“No, Granddaughter. I am giving you the opportunity to be the strong woman you were meant to be had that bastard not kidnapped you. Heed my words, Blaise, a reckoning is coming soon, and you most of all will reap the rewards.”

His words are cryptic, as usual.

“Playing the role of a knight from the Dark Ages again, eh?” I tease.

Grandfather smiles. “What else is there to do with a brother named Arthur?”

Next to him, my great-uncle smiles too. His smile widens when the song ends and a number is called.

“Looks like we have a winner,” Great-Uncle Arthur says with a sympathetic smile, understanding his brother’s meddlesome ways well.

The winner drops a string of f-bombs, and then he whoops. The guests do this weird gasp-laughing thing that gets the blood pumping fast through my veins.

Ignoring the rapid beats of my heart, I utter a wish and a prayer. I hope the winner is someone I can stand to be around for a whole day, who won’t give up the location to my private cabin in the woods, and who isn’t a serial killer or a stalker.

Faking nonchalance, I look away from my great-uncle’s face and stare straight ahead. Maddox strides to the middle of the room and stops. My mouth drops open. He raises a brow, a challenge for me to present him with the “winning hand” as was announced before everyone bought their tickets to the last and most anticipated cake walk.

Darn it, I never saw this one coming. I mean, his chances of winning was one in ten. And the amount to play increased to twenty-five thousand dollars.

“Need us to chaperone, Blaise?” one of my cousins ask, his blue eyes sparkling.

My other cousins duck their heads, but I don’t miss their wide smiles. Of course, they’re having too much fun at my expense.

It’s always been like this with them, and the reason I begged Grandfather for archery and fencing lessons. I would rather be one step ahead of my rambunctious cousins than to be brought down by their signature arrows or a flesh wound from their sharp-as-hell knives and swords.

Behind me, my team is silent. I push back my chair just enough not to hit Granger in the legs. With my head held high, I walk across the ballroom, stop in front of the sexy guy with the smirk on his face, and in a loud voice, congratulate him, tapping him quickly and lightly on the shoulder. There, I have bestowed on him the “winning hand.”

“She speaks,” he says near my ear as he leans into my personal space. “I can’t wait to see your posh place, darling.”

Posh? Pfft. Who says that word these days? I don’t play into his ploy of goading a reaction from me. Instead, I tilt my head back to the team standing behind me.

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