Sweet Heart (The Hearts of Sawyers Bend #2) - Ivy Layne Page 0,15

got his hands on the company, he’d take the town down with him. We weren’t going to let that happen.

The family attorney claimed Bryce and Ophelia didn’t know the details of the will or what they stood to gain from it. I wasn’t sure I believed that. They’d missed the funeral but had shown up not long ago with a letter from our father, mailed days after his death, inviting them to move into Heartstone Manor. The letter didn’t explicitly promise them anything beyond a roof over their heads, but it implied there would be a reward for sticking around.

For reasons no one understood, my father had let Heartstone Manor fall into a state of benign neglect over the last few years. While it made living there a pain in the ass until renovations were complete, it also gave us a solid excuse to keep Ophelia and Bryce from moving in. We’d stuck them in a suite at The Inn, deciding it was worth the cost if it meant they weren't at the breakfast table every morning.

It had seemed like a simple solution. In reality, it had proven anything but.

I left the elevator on the top floor and knocked on the door of their suite. Bryce swung it open and stood back, gesturing for me to enter. His mouth was twisted in a sulk, reminding me vividly of the toddler he'd been. If memory served, Bryce had two expressions in his arsenal, a smugly satisfied grin and an annoyed sulk. I’d take the sulk any day.

Bryce didn't say a word, just closed the door behind me and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring, his lower lip pooched out in an almost feminine pout.

He looked a lot like my younger siblings, Sterling and Braxton. Spun-gold hair and the Sawyer blue eyes, an athletic build and chiseled cheekbones. If Bryce had had any kind of work ethic he could have made a living as a model or a B-movie star.

As it was, he was a professional mooch. Considering the designer labels on his back and his current circumstances, he was doing a good job at it.

Aunt Ophelia fluttered into the room wrapped in a pink organza dressing gown even though it was close to noon, her frosted blonde hair in an elaborate twist and her makeup perfect. Diamonds winked at her ears and glittered on her fingers and wrists. She always had liked her diamonds.

“Royal, darling,” she gushed, “I'm so glad you're here to straighten out this little mess.”

“What can I do for you, Aunt Ophelia?” I asked, adding a flash of the grin that always seemed to work when I needed to get out of trouble.

“You can tell your staff that we have an open tab. So far, they haven't given us any trouble about ordering in meals, but when I tried to order a bottle of champagne, they told me we hadn’t been approved for alcohol over a hundred dollars a day. And you must fire that girl working in the gift shop. She insisted we provide payment when I tried to pick up a few things. I thought this was a family company. We are family, aren't we?”

“Of course, we’re family,” I assured her. “It didn't occur to me that you wouldn't know the company policy. No freebies. I'm afraid with a family as big as ours, that was the only sensible approach.”

“I don't understand,” Ophelia said, her perfectly manicured hand fluttering to cover her chest.

“I can see how you'd be confused,” I said smoothly, “considering that you're staying here for free. But given my father's invitation for you to reside at Heartstone Manor and the lack of guest rooms there right now, it only seemed fair that we cover your room and board. But retail and the bar…” I gave a helpless shrug and another flash of my most persuasive smile. “It's not as if we have a bar or a gift shop at the Manor.”

Considering some of the vintages available in the restaurant and bar as well as the designer gear we stocked in the gift shop, Ophelia could have run up thousands of dollars in room charges in minutes if we'd let her. I had no doubt that's exactly what she'd been planning to do.

“So, you're just going to starve us out?” Bryce challenged. Ophelia liked to play the ditzy ingénue, but Bryce was more demanding in his entitlement.

“I think I just specified that you wouldn't be starved. Room and board, as guaranteed by Prentice.