Cruel Legacy (Cruel 3)

“Yes,” I told him.

I didn’t want him to be fake with me either. Not if I was going to be able to see past the man who had bet on me and back to the one I’d fallen in love with. Those two people were already blurred in my mind. But I could see when the mask came up. I was sure that he’d be able to see me, too.

“You’re sure? No hiding from me.”

I nodded. “This is who I am.”

“After tonight, this will just be one side of who you are. Are you ready?”

My stomach coiled into a knot. “You’re sure Katherine won’t be here?”

“As far as I know, she is still on her honeymoon. I have no idea how she could stomach a month alone with Camden Percy. But there are so many things I don’t understand about Katherine.”

“Well, that’s good for us at least,” I said as the car rolled to a stop. I took a deep breath and then released it. “I’m ready.”

I knew this part. How to make an appearance. Katherine had inadvertently taught me how to survive this a year earlier when she brought me to my first ever Upper East Side event. I could walk a red carpet with a coy smile on my face. I knew which way to stand that flattered me best. There had been proof of that on Page Six.

That was the easy part.

It was everything that came afterward that I always second-guessed. Even when I’d been brought in with the entire crew, I hadn’t felt entirely with the crowd. It was easier on the arm of a Warren or a Kensington, but I was still small-town Natalie whose father had moved us all around the country with the military. I still had the moral compass that said right and wrong were black-and-white issues. I didn’t see their strategies or straight-out lies. I had been ill-prepared for what I witnessed, but Penn was in his element.

It was crazy to think that someone who hated this world so much could fit in so seamlessly. As if he had never left. As if he had been born for this role. And I supposed that he had, in fact, been born for this. He just rejected it on base principle.

Yet he was here for me.

The charity function was held in a stunning domed banquet hall fit for royalty. It was bedecked in navy-blue and gold with large, circular tables facing a small stage. A row of items was on display along one side of the room for the silent auction. I wondered what outrageous big ticket items the uber wealthy would bid on.

Penn effortlessly guided me away from the tables.

“We won’t look until later. No one wants to look eager,” he told me.

“Oh,” I said softly. “But there are people over there.”

“What do you think that says about them?”

“That they’re bored?”

“No, there’s an array of people at this event. It’s one of the reasons that I decided to choose this one. I thought it would be beneficial for you to observe people. Everyone here has money. But not everyone is Upper East Side. There’s a difference, and it’s very obvious to people who know what to look for. So tell me, the people at the auction before dinner are…” he prodded.

“Not Upper East Side,” I guessed.

“Correct. No one would outbid us, and if there were something we had an eye on, we would have been informed about it ahead of time by the organizers. So, there’s no point in going to browse. We’re here to mingle. The auction is secondary.”

“I see.” Though it sounded ridiculous to me. But that was the point. I never would have noticed that.

“Look around. Tell me who is the wealthiest person in the room.” Penn’s arm was warm on my elbow as he stopped us in our tracks. He snapped his finger at a passing waiter, and the man scurried over, eager to please. He plucked a glass of champagne off of the tray and passed it to me. “I’ll have a bourbon, neat. Make it a double.”

The man nodded quickly and then disappeared into the crowd to get Penn his drink.

I shook my head in surprise. “You’re good at this.”

“Yes,” he said in dismay. “Now, focus. Did you select a person?”

My eyes traveled the room. I felt, at some level, like this must be a trick question. Penn was incredibly wealthy, but it probably wasn’t him. My eyes skittered around the massive space as I tried to figure out how the hell I should answer this.

“I don’t know. Everyone’s rich. Maybe…that woman?” I said with a hitch, making my statement an uncertain question. I gestured to an elderly woman a couple of rows over in a mink coat and diamonds.

“Hollywood,” Penn said grimly. “That’s Henrietta Groves, a very successful fifties film star. Charming but handsy. She probably has less than half the net worth of that couple.”