Tempting Little Thief (Girls of Greyson #1) Read Online Meagan Brandy

Categories Genre: College, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Girls of Greyson Series by Meagan Brandy
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Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
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What Daddy says goes.

All his little comments, truly made for teasing purposes only, did was keep me from calling my dad for a quick fight that would end with me in a red dress, just as planned.

Which is why when seven o’clock rolls around, I’m stepping out the double doors to meet Sai.

His features are pulled tight, drawing a frown from me in return.

He gives a slow shake of his head, so I slip inside, waiting for him to take his seat behind the wheel.

He doesn’t speak until we’re rolling down the path toward the front gate, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “I don’t like that he’s insisting on a public dinner the day your sister was thrust back into society. It’s risky, and I’m to drop you off and leave.”

“Why would you leave?”

Sai shakes his head, taking a left onto the long, winding road. “I didn’t question him.”

Right. Of course not, Father’s orders, but why would he make such a demand?

“I want you to be careful, Rocklin. Watch everyone around you from the corner of your eye. You have been on the yacht, had meals with the Henshaws. If you spot men you don’t recognize, tell me. He won’t leave the peninsula, but you will be moving. Stay away from the edge and don’t—”

“I know what to do, Sai, and my father will be there. No one will dare make a move, but thank you.”

His hands tighten on the wheel as he faces forward.

After a few silent minutes, his eyes pop up several times, and finally the fourth or fifth try, I lift mine to meet his through the mirror. He doesn’t waste the moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“Since when do you request permission to ask me things?” I gauge him.

“This is personal.”

Curious, I sit back, nodding slightly.

“If you had a choice, and it came down to leading your family name or taking the head chancellor seat at Greyson Manor, what would you choose?”

My mouth waters instantly, a tingling sensation sweeping across my arms, goose bumps rising. I look away from his prying eyes, unable to speak the words, but my hesitation, my delay in response, is answer enough. So, when I give one, we both know that while the words leave me, it’s my father’s voice that’s heard.

“I would do as I must, no matter what.” My eyes slice up and hold his. “Like a good daughter would.”

Silence stretches, understanding passing between us, though on what, it isn’t completely clear. We’re speaking in riddles, ones that cannot be solved as the question hasn’t been established. What’s worrisome is Sai and his knack for anticipating trouble. Like a Doppler before a storm, he can sense when something is coming. For weeks now, he’s been acting odd, leaving his post and slipping away. He’s never done that and I’m not sure what to make of it. All I know is something has changed.

“Sai, tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I can’t do that, but I can tell you this.” He spins to face me, so he can look at me head-on, “You are doing exactly what I hoped you would, and without the guidance I had planned to offer.”

The car door opens, and he faces forward, so I wash away my frown, accept my father’s hand and climb out.

Chapter 19

Rocklin

I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen my father intoxicated, drunk to the point of flushed cheeks and incessant laughter, and I wouldn’t be holding a single finger in the air.

Not when he faced new threats or after the loss of soldiers.

Not even when my mother died eleven years ago today.

He would never allow himself the reprieve, never weaken for the enemy and paint himself as prey, so sitting across from him and Mr. Henshaw with Oliver at my side, I have no idea what to think.

My father is relaxed, one leg up, ankle balanced against his knee, with his arm thrown across the back of the bucket seats. The glass in his hand, his fourth of the evening, half-empty.

He’s drunk outside, in the open, and with only one of his guards on board, the rest left behind on the dock with Mr. Henshaw’s men, who is also accompanied by a single soldier. I’ve counted no less than six other faces, all staff brought on deck to serve us the over-the-top meal of caviar and roasted lamb, and all I can think about is the conversation or lack thereof, I had with Sai in the car.

I’m dumbfounded. This makes no sense.

My dad is relaxed, and yes, Mr. Henshaw is someone who has been around since I was young, though I wouldn’t call him a friend. My father has none of those, not even Sai as that drifted away when Sai’s allegiance shifted to me—something my father was deeply grateful for. At the end of the day, Mr. Henshaw is a colleague at best, someone my father works with sometimes when in need of his particular forte.


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