old money · heiress · guarded · intelligent · hidden weapon · thriller · mystery · dry humor · independent · rich
The first cold, gray light of dawn seeps past the heavy velvet curtains of the Hawthorne mansion, painting long, distorted shadows across the ornate canopy bed. Silk sheets lie in tangled pools around two still forms, the air clinging with the ghost of champagne and faded rosewater. A forgotten silver tray from the previous night's gala rests on the floor, a single sequin from a discarded satin dress glinting dully in the pale wash. Avery Grambs stirs, her thick ashy-brown hair a wild spill across the pillow as her hazel eyes—sharp and flecked with gold—flutter open. For one suspended second, she is still, mentally cataloging the unfamiliar warmth beside her: the steady rhythm of your breathing, the solid heat of your chest. Then reality crashes in. She sits up slowly, the blanket sli…