The Glass Ballerina Who Danced On Knives

Not like that

I thought you said you'd take care of Drake." Avery's fingers tightened around her cell phone, and her free hand wound itself into a fist at my side. "For fun."

Avery called Alisa the moment we'd made it to the car. Grayson followed and buckled himself into the back seat beside Avery.
Oren was driving. My car was being taken back to the House. I was pissed.

"Then why is he at the gates of Hawthorne House right now?" Avery's voice rose.

Drake was here. In Texas. When Nash had called, Libby was safely inside, but Drake was spamming her phone with texts and calls, demanding a face-to-
face.

"Avery."

She looks up from her phone uneasily. "What?"

"You can't lie low, like Alisa says. You have to make a scene. Be loud and powerful, so they know you're there."

She takes a long look at me, then turns to Oren "Can you drive any faster?"

Libby has her own security detail. Drake wouldn't get a chance to hurt her— physically.

"Nash is with your sister." Grayson speaks for the first time since we'd entered the car. "If the gentleman so much as tries to lay a finger on her, I assure you, my brother would take pleasure in removing that finger."

"Drake isn't a gentleman," Avery snaps at Grayson. "And I'm not just worried about him getting violent." She was afraid of Drake charming Libby, gaslighting her.

"If it would make you feel better, I can have him removed from the property," Oren offers. "But that might cause a bit of a scene for the press."

I see her brain click into action. "The House," she shoots me a look. "Of course."

"If I were a betting man," Oren comments as we pull it the drive, "I would guess that Drake placed a few calls to reporters to ensure an audience."

Up ahead, I could see Drake's form outside the wrought-iron gates. There were two other men standing near him. Even from a distance, I could make out their police uniforms.

And so could the paparazzi.

"Stop the car," I snapped.

Oren stopped, then turned around in his seat to face me. "I would advise you to stay in this vehicle." That wasn't advice. That was an order.

I reached for the door handle.

Beside me, Grayson unbuckled his seat belt. He reached for my wrist, his touch gentle. "Oren's right. You shouldn't go out there."

I looked down at his hand on mine, and after a heartbeat, I looked back up. "And what would you do," I say, "what lengths would you go to in order to protect your family? To protect me? Libby isn't my family but I sure as hell am not letting Drake take the shred of safety she's felt here."

I had him there, and he damn well knew it. He drew his hand back from mine, slowly enough that I felt the pads of his fingers skim my knuckles.

"And he does not get the spotlight on this story." I open the door. "I do."

Instantly, all the cameras turn towards me.

"Trinity!"

"Over here!"

"What's going on here?"

"Trinity, you look amazing today."

"Trinity, what do you have to say about the recent speculations about - "

I take a deep breath. I've done this my whole life. "Ms. Grambs would link to say something." I swallow.

All the cameras are on Avery. She looks dumbstruck, then slowly climbs out of the car. "I um, wow..."
The cameras bore and shift back to me.

Dammit Avery, change the subject, get their attention!

"Something has changed." Her voice rings clear. "I know why Tobias Hawthorne changed his will. And I will make sure none of you ever find out!"

Dear god, not like that Avery.

"Alisa is going to kill you," I say as we walk down the hall briskly.

"I'm aware," she says tersely.

As we open the door to the kitchen, I catch sight of cupcakes. Hundreds of them.

"Oh, Libby." Avery cries out next to me.

We walk towards her, and I grab a chocolate cupcake.

"Avery. Trina."

"Libby, are you ok?" I peel the wrapper back.

"Should I make red velvet or salted caramel next?" She won't look at us and her hair falls out of her ponytail, plastering to her sweaty cheeks.

"She's been doing it for hours," Nash fills us in, "and her phone's been going off for just as long."

"She can hear you." Libby looked up from the cupcakes she was icing to narrow her eyes at Nash.

"Yes, ma'am." Nash smiled, wide and slow. I wondered how long he'd been with her—why he'd been with her.

"Drake is gone," I told Libby, hoping Nash would take that as his cue that he wasn't needed here. "Avery... took care of it."

"I'm supposed to take care of you." Libby shoved her hair out of her face and turned to Avery. "Stop looking at me like that, Avery. I'm not going to break."

"'Course not, darlin'," Nash said, from his spot leaning against the fridge.

"You..." Libby looked at him, a spark of annoyance lighting up her eyes. "You shut up." I didn't think Libby had ever told someone to shut up in her life, but at least she didn't sound fragile or hurt or in any danger of texting Drake back.

"Libby." I look in her eyes. "You aren't broken. You have to burn, show the world you aren't broken."

"Shutting up now." Nash picks up a cupcake and takes a bite out of it like it was an apple. "For what it's worth, I vote for red velvet next."

Libby turns back to me and Avery. "Salted caramel it is."