Page 1 of Twisted Knight

PROLOGUE

Rowan

I hate this place.

The estate lawyer’s office with its sleek, dark wood and navy- blue accents that reminds me of an open casket—polished and with no purpose but for show.

Its owner, Henry Williams, with his stiff upper lip, his clasped hands, and his wire-framed glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he glances up at me.

The way the dust particles dance in the streams of light only to get lost when they find their way to the dark again.

More than anything, I loathe the reason we are all sitting here—the entire Rothschild family—waiting like a pack of rabid wolves. Because if we’re here at the estate lawyer’s office, then that means I finally have to accept the reality that Gran is gone.

And in losing her, I’ve lost the only person in my life who truly got me. My biggest cheerleader. The unyielding rule breaker. The woman who has encouraged me to follow in the path she forged even though it’s against Westmore societal norms.

My gut twists right along with the heaviness in my heart.

Mr. Williams’s sigh is heavy yet sympathetic as he unclasps his hands and flips to the next page from the folder on his desk. “As to the charities. Your grandmother bequeathed—”

“Can we get on with this?” my brother, Rhett, asks. His knee jogs, and his phone vibrates yet again as his impatient huff carries through the room. “It’s been a week already. She’d want us to know what she left us.”

“Forgive him.” My mom’s lips pull tight in an apologetic smile with a quick glance to my brother. “Death makes him rather … unsettled.”

Unsettled? How about just admitting he’s an all-around prick in general?

Henry clears his throat. “As I was saying, your grandmother bequeathed a million dollars to the Humane Society. Another one-million-dollar donation to the Fairmont Revitalization Fund. And—”

“Jesus Christ. I don’t care what she left to charity.” Rhett stands and throws his hands out. “I want to know what she left me so I can get out of this fucking place. So … can we just cut to that part?”

My dad shifts uncomfortably and glances at my mom as Rhett’s impatience eats up the air in the room—but as usual, no one says anything. The golden child gets to throw his tantrum and the rest of us are just bystanders.

“Sure. Yes.” Henry’s smile is tight as he slowly flips through the pages of the will. He acts as if he hasn’t read it before when we all know damn well he has. “Here it is. ‘To Rhett, my grandson. Your last name alone is an inheritance in and of itself. Wield it wisely, for the continuity of the Rothschilds’ impact on the town of Westmore rests on your shoulders. In addition, I leave you your grandfather’s prized possession—his heirloom watch.’” He looks up, that smile frozen in place now.

“And?” Rhett prompts.

Henry looks down and studies the document again, his lips pinched when he looks back up to meet Rhett’s eyes. “She also leaves you your grandfather’s collection of golf tees from the courses he’s played around the world.”

“And?” Impatience edged with concern fills Rhett’s voice.

“And that’s it.”

“What?” Rhett explodes. “What the fuck do you mean, that’s it? I’m a goddamn Rothschild. I’m the lone grandson. I’m…”

“Exactly,” Henry says softly. “Those two things guarantee you success and status here in Westmore. I believe that was her point.”

Rhett seethes. It’s in the set of his shoulders, the grit of his jaw, and the flexing of his fists. He turns to face me, his glare malicious, as if I had anything to do with this. “This is fucking ridiculous,” he says before storming out.

“Rhett? Honey?” And there goes my mom right after him.

My dad looks at Henry and then me as he stands. Torn between what he wants to do and what he needs to do. He hesitates. “Excuse me, I need to go make sure he’s okay.”

Of course you do. We wouldn’t want Rhett to have a tantrum without an audience, now, would we?

Henry nods as my father hurries out before turning back to me, the only Rothschild left in the room, and lifts his eyebrows. “I think it’s best if we table the rest of this for another day. Any protest to that?”

“No. None at all.”

And now I can pretend for a bit longer that she’s still with us.