Survival of the Richest (The Trust Fund Duet 1)

I manage to keep a straight face, even though it’s painfully clear that Sutton and Christopher had planned to move forward without the society’s input. It may not have even occurred to them that the society might object—or that they could put in place roadblocks with building permits. I may not know the specifics of Tanglewood, but I know high society. Even if the society itself doesn’t have any power, the husbands of its members certainly do.

Sutton manages to use that Southern charm to win Mrs. Rosemont over, so that she’s blushing and trying not to smile by the time she’s called away by another woman.

“You saved me,” he murmurs the second we’re alone.

The words startle me, because I’m so used to being the one who needs saving. The one who gets saved again and again, even when I don’t want that. It’s an illicit delight, being the one who does the saving. No wonder Christopher likes it so much. “You would have figured it out.”

“I’m a lot better with a construction crew than I am with women.”

Considering the looks he’s getting from around the room, he’s underestimating himself. Even so I have to admit he wasn’t doing so well when I found him. “Were you really planning on restoring a historical site without consulting anyone?”

“It was less of a restoration, more of a teardown and rebuild.”

I groan. “City hall is going to block you so fast.”

“We own the deed,” he drawls.

“And they own the city. You can fight them, but that’s a last resort. Especially for people who are new to the city like you. It’s going to take a while before you have friends.”

He looks at me, mystified. “You made friends with that woman.”

“That’s because I’m interested in people more than money. You should try it sometime.”

A rough laugh, the kind I can imagine beneath a vivid sunset in the country. “It’s always the people who come from money who think it doesn’t matter.”

“It’s always the ambitious ones that crush everyone in their way.”

He pulls me close, and only then do I realize I’m still holding his arm. That we’re locked together in the middle of the ballroom. Everyone is looking at us and pretending not to see. They’ll be talking about the mystery woman to

morrow. “Then I had better keep you nearby, so you can protect everyone.”

My throat tightens. The idea that I can protect anyone… even metaphorically, it’s completely absurd. I’m the helpless one, aren’t I? At least that’s how Christopher Bardot sees me.

A shiver runs through me. I turn to find him behind me, as if conjured from my thoughts. I yank my hand away from Sutton, which only makes me look guilty. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I’m allowed to be here, but Christopher always makes me feel like a troublesome child.

“There you are,” I say lamely.

His eyes are narrowed on me. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. You must have known I would come.”

“A phone call would have worked.”

“Not when it’s my mother’s health we’re talking about.”

“We should discuss this in private.” He turns to Sutton, and his eyes somehow grow even colder. “How did she even know I would be here?”

Sutton gives a small smile, completely undisturbed by his business partner’s fury. “You didn’t tell me she was skilled in diplomacy. She already smoothed things over with the historical society.”

“For now,” I say.

He studies me, as if looking at me through fresh eyes. Almost. The speculation is gone in a second, leaving only the cold remoteness I know so well. “Follow me,” he says, turning and leaving me to trail behind him.

Sutton holds out his arm, and I realize he’s going to come with us.

Or at least he’s offering to escort me. Does he think I need backup? Looking at his face, I realize he doesn’t. It’s something far more base. Male possession, except he’s asking my permission.

One of these men sees me as competent. The other as a helpless girl. One sees me as powerful. The other as weak. I put my hand in Sutton’s arm and walk side by side out of the ballroom, confirming the suspicion of everyone at the gala. They’ll all be certain we’re together, and the crazy thing is, I’m not sure they’re wrong.