The Hawthorne Legacy (The Inheritance Games Book 2)

Grayson, move a little closer to Avery. Tilt your head toward her.”

Landon had set us up in the tea room for a mock interview. This was take seven. How Alisa had gotten Grayson to agree to this, I had no idea, but there he was, sitting stiffly in the chair next to me. At Landon’s instruction, he angled his legs slightly toward mine. Instinctively, I mirrored the movement, and then I was hit with self-consciousness and self-doubt, because Landon hadn’t asked me to move.

My body had gravitated toward his all on its own.

“Good.” Landon nodded at the two of us, then focused on Grayson.

“Remember your core message.”

“This has been a difficult time for my family,” Grayson said, every inch the heir apparent he’d once been. “But some things happen for a reason.”

“Good,” Landon said again. “Avery?”

I was supposed to respond to what Grayson had said. The more we talked to each other, the easier it would be to sell the fact that I was on good terms with the Hawthorne family.

“Some things happen for a reason,” I repeated, but the words came out flat. “I’ve never believed that,” I admitted. I could practically hear Landon groaning internally. “I mean, yeah, things happen for a reason, but most of the time that reason isn’t fate or because it was predestined. It’s because the world sucks, or someone out there’s being an asshole.”

A muscle in Grayson’s jaw tightened slightly. It was a good enough look for him that it took me a second to realize that he was trying very hard not to laugh.

“Let’s try to avoid the word asshole, shall we?” Landon said, her British accent pronounced. “Avery, we need for you to project gratitude and awe.

It’s fine to be overwhelmed, but you need to be overwhelmed in the best possible way.”

Gratitude. Awe. I was expected to be some kind of wide-eyed everygirl, and all Grayson had to do was sit there, with those cheekbones and that suit and be a Hawthorne.

“Avery’s right.” Grayson was still in interview mode. He projected confidence, his tone dripping power, like he was an immortal deigning to explain to humans what they should believe, think, and do. “We all make decisions, and those decisions affect other people. They ripple through the world, and the more power you have, the greater the ripple. Fate didn’t choose Avery.” Grayson’s tone brooked no argument. “My grandfather did.

We might never know his reasons, but I have no doubt that he had them. He always did.”

All I could think was that we did know the reasons—or at least, we had theories. But that wasn’t something I could say in front of Landon. It wasn’t something I could admit on national television.

When you can’t tell the truth, I could hear Landon lecturing me, tell a truth.

“I wish I knew what those reasons were,” I said. For sure, I added silently. I shot Grayson a look. “Sometimes, it feels like Hawthornes always just know. Like you’re all so sure of everything.”

Grayson’s eyes locked on to mine. “Not everything.”

There was something about the way he looked at me when he said those words that made me realize I might be the one person on the planet with the ability to make Grayson Hawthorne question himself and the decisions he’d made.

Like the decision to step back from me. To be friends.

Landon clasped her hands together. “Avery, that’s the most natural I’ve heard you sound. Very relatable! And, Grayson, you’re perfection.” Like he needed anyone else telling him that. “Just remember, both of you: short answers if they ask about the attempts on Avery’s life. Grayson, don’t be afraid to seem protective of her. Avery, you know the rest of your ‘no’

questions.”

If they asked if I knew anything about my mother’s past: no.

If they asked what I had done to work my way into Tobias Hawthorne’s will: nothing.

“Grayson, whenever possible, talk about your grandfather. And your brothers! The audience will eat that up, and we want them walking away

with the idea that your grandfather knew exactly what he was doing when he chose Avery, and no one’s worried. And, Avery?”

“Gratitude,” I said quickly. “Overwhelmed. Relatable. One day, I’m scrounging to pay the electric bill, and the next, I’m Cinderella. I don’t know what I’ll do with the money yet—I’m just seventeen. But I’d like to help people.”

“And?” Landon prompted.

“Someday I’d like to travel the world.” That was something we’d settled on as a talking point, something that made me sound dreamy and wide-eyed and overwhelmed. And it was true.

“Perfect,” Landon said. “One more time, from the top.”