Inherited Malice: A Dark Secret Society Romance

And then an invitation came.

A lot of times there was nothing in the Invitation box. Not this time. This time Mrs. H carried the box into the room with such reverence and care, almost was like she was barely breathing.

I’d immediately gone on alert and even Beau had set aside his laptop and gotten up to take the box from her.

Mrs. H had shot a look my way—that woman did not like me—and then turned around and left. I’d have to keep an eye on her, just like she was on me. She’d been cool toward me ever since I’d arrived, but ever since she learned about the so-called “coincidence” that Beau and I had known each other before coming here, she’d turned positively suspicious. Which was something I could not afford.

I had to see this through to the end. I needed all three of these months, and I needed to be able to claim what I would ask for at the end of it all.

I’d lied during my intake questionnaire. I’d named an amount of money, something I thought would be a sufficient amount that most girls would ask for.

But, of course, what I really wanted was so, so much more.

It would take a lifetime to pay out.

I watched Beau’s expression as he opened the Invitation box and was surprised when a smile crossed his face.

“What is it?” I asked, approaching as my curiosity got the better of me.

“Well, either my father or the Elders have decided to celebrate my heritage.” He turned the box toward me so I could see what was inside.

I gasped. I couldn’t help it.

I’d never seen so many diamonds in one place.

There was a… I don’t even think you could call it a necklace—it was more like a neck piece of netted together diamonds that draped in a gorgeous teardrop shape, with one large mega-diamond at the bottom that would hit near cleavage. Diamond-draped earrings matched, along with a diamond and ruby-encrusted tiara. Glittery heels were nestled at the bottom of the box.

The last item beside the shoes was a diamond-encrusted bowtie.

A small notecard with instructions informed us that while he was to wear a tux, I was to be adorned in only the diamonds and the pair of high heels, because there would be waltzing.

My eyebrows shot to my hairline. “Waltzing? Naked diamond waltzing?”

Beau laughed. “They do so love their perverted pomp and circumstance.”

“Jesus Christ.” I reached a finger out to touch the necklace, then pulled it back at the last moment, looking back up at Beau. “What if I lose one? There are a hundred diamonds on that thing. What if one falls out while we’re dancing?”

Beau pulled the box back and looked offended. “These are Radcliffe diamonds. We set each stone with care and precision. They don’t just fall out.”

I could only blink at him. “So this is the kind of shit your company makes? Jewelry like that?” I pointed at the box.

“This is one of our high-end pieces, but yes.”

“How much does it cost?”

Beau shrugged. “Probably best for you not to think about that while you’re waltzing in it.”

“That’s not an answer. How much?”

He sighed. “Fine. It’s a half-million-dollar necklace.”

I almost choked on my own tongue. “A half-mill—” I almost snatched the box back from him again. I mean, Jesus. I had bigger goals here, but still. To just hold a half-million dollars in my hands.

Ha. Eat your heart out, Tina. I smirked.

“What?” Beau asked.

Shit. Had any of what I’d been thinking been showing on my face? Usually, I was so careful.

“Uh, nothing,” I shook my head and flashed a smile. Then I laughed. “Just that, holy shit, that’s a shit-ton of money, frankly.”

Beau laughed at that. “Fair. Whenever we take it out of the vault, the security is pretty intense.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to grab your precious necklace and try to make a break for it.”

He laughed again. “No, I don’t imagine you would.” Then his features sobered, and he looked at me curiously. But whatever he was wondering, he didn’t ask. He just kind of shut down again, like he did sometimes whenever we were getting too close or starting to bond.

I hated that he just had a switch where he could turn it off like that. It wasn’t a good sign.

I thought about what he’d said about his father and their holidays. How their tradition was to eat a meal together and for his dad to hand him a wad of cash. Beau had said he’d had a happy childhood, but I wondered how happy it could have really been with no mother or maternal warmth and a dad who thought a wad of cash made for a happy holiday.

I’d had a shit childhood and a lack of intimacy and connection that I’d been trying to make up for ever since, but at least I was aware of it. I wondered if knowing you were broken made it easier or harder. Maybe it was nicer to just go through life unaware. Maybe that was the privilege of being rich—you could just bang along through life without ever being confronted with your brokenness.