Page 46 of Heartless Sinner

And his son.

Whatever political bullshit my father wanted me to accomplish could wait.

I had the seat beside Daphne.

Mission fucking accomplished.

Ten

Daphne

Brooks being in Calira still didn’t make sense.

I’d spent half the night trying to figure out how the hell he’d pulled it off.

No one in his family had stepped foot on Caliran soil in years.

Yet, even after the asshole had dangled me over a cliff, guess who I thought about during my morning trip to Pleasureville?

Brooks fucking Byron.

The jerk starred in most of my fantasies. I deserved prison time just for that.

Mom had already texted to let me know I’d landed on my grandfather’s shit list for missing her speech last night.

I’d apologized to both her and my grandmother. Missing her moment broke my heart. I’d just been a little preoccupied with hanging off the side of a damn cliff.

Not that I told them that.

It’d only cause me more problems.

I showed up to dinner early to get back into everyone’s good graces.

Mom was the only one there, scrolling on her phone with a half-empty wine glass beside her. She looked up at the sound of my heels and slipped her phone into her lap.

We shared smiles as I collapsed into the chair beside her.

Vittoria arrived next, followed by Oriana and her husband, Ralphael. He didn’t attend many meals. As the highest general in the Caliran army, I rarely saw him.

Oriana’s eyes never left me on her walk to her seat. She needed to get over her jealousy before it ate her alive.

Moments later, my grandparents arrived, arm in arm.

Everyone stood and bowed.

They only made it a few steps until my grandmother stopped to straighten his crooked crown. Grandfather beamed as she fixed his shoulder-length hair, then leaned over and kissed her cheek.

My grandmother was the brains behind Calira.

Grandfather might’ve worn the crown, but everyone in this family knew who really kept the country running. Without her, we’d probably be screwed.

They settled in their chairs, and I caught Oriana still glaring at me. I discreetly flipped her off under the table. Some traditions from childhood deserved to live on.

“There he is! The First Son of the United States has arrived!”

I nearly gave myself whiplash turning toward the doorway.

Brooks stood there in another black suit, looking like he’d wandered into a funeral instead of a Caliran family dinner.