How to Catch an Heiress (The Heiress Series Book 1) Read online

  How to Catch an Heiress

  © 2016, Natalie Rios

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  About the Author

  Sneak Peek

  Chapter One

  Liz

  “What do you mean you’re not coming?” I barked into my phone. “We planned this trip a year ago, Mags!”

  “I know.” The regret was evident in her voice, but it wasn’t doing much to alleviate my frustration. “I’m sorry. But-”

  “I took time off from work in the middle of a major case for this. My career could be on the line here.”

  “Don’t be dramatic. The firm won’t fire you for taking a vacation.”

  True, my job wasn’t in any jeopardy. I’m a damn good lawyer, hardworking and persistent. I also graduated at the top of my class in law school and had interned at a major international firm. The partners had no reason to fire me. But they could count this against me for a promotion. “I’m trying to make partner next year. My competition is really stiff and I don’t want to give them any reason to hand over what should have been my promotion to someone else.”

  “I know, I know,” Mags sighed. “But Dylan has this thing for work and lately it just feels like we hardly ever see each other. This is the one weekend he doesn’t have to be in Dallas and I want to spend it with him.”

  A part of me wanted to point out yet again that this trip had been planned months before she had even met Dylan. And that this was our annual Girls Retreat, which we have been doing since we graduated college. That I had never missed a retreat, even when I was up to my neck in work during law school or completely stressed out studying for the bar.

  I wanted to wail that I needed this, a weekend with my girls to just decompress after possibly the worst three months of my life. It wasn’t fair of her to bail on me at the last minute because she missed her husband. Whatever happened to the concept of bros before hoes? And if something had come up, she could have damn well called me before I had flown all the way out here.

  But I voiced none of these arguments. Knowing Mags, she had probably already made up her mind and there was nothing I could say to get her on the next plane out here. And knowing how hot her husband Dylan is, I couldn’t exactly blame her for wanting some more alone time with him. The man may be a dorky tech nerd, but he was seriously ripped.

  But above all this, I decided to let it go because Mags is family. Legally, we’re cousins though we’ve always felt more like sisters. Ultimately, I want her to be happy and if staying in with her husband this weekend made her happy, so be it. “So you can’t come, fine. What about Char? Any idea why she’s not here? Or why she isn’t answering her phone?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” Though disappointing, her answer didn’t surprise me. Of the three of us, Charlotte was the impulsive one. No one ever quite knew what to expect with her. “You know how she is. Marches to the beat of her own drum. She could be anywhere from home to a safari in Kenya.”

  And that was no exaggeration. Charlotte rarely arrived on time for anything and didn’t exactly follow most societal norms. As a result, she came off as kind of flaky. Your stereotypical trust fund baby who did whatever tickled her fancy, not caring one bit how her actions affected those around her. A ridiculously fun, yet highly unreliable friend.

  “Fuck, Mags! You’re out and Charlotte’s MIA. I can’t believe I’m sitting at a Vegas bar, sipping champagne, alone,” I grumbled, more to myself. If the mere thought didn’t make my cheeks blush with embarrassment, I would hang up and call the firm. Tell them I changed my mind and wanted to shorten my vacation.

  You know your life’s reached Death Valley status low when your vacation just started and you’re already counting down the hours until you can get back to work.

  “I know, I know. Look, I’ll make it up to you. Maybe after Dylan’s done getting the new Dallas office up and running, we’ll fly down to Miami for a long weekend.”

  “We’ll see.” Which was code for hell no. I would be the third wheel in that situation, tagging along like an awkward teenage stepchild on their honeymoon of syrupy wedded bliss. The thought alone was giving me diabetes. No way was I going to take even more time off from work to suffer that indignity. “I’ve got to go. I’m going to call Char again and hopefully she answers this time.”

  “Okay. And Liz? I really am sorry.”

  Hanging up the phone, I set it down on the bar and crossed my arms in front of me so I could lay my head down for a moment. My phone vibrated against my arm and when I checked the screen, I saw I had a text from Charlotte.

  Stuck in Iceland. Volcano eruption preventing planes from taking off.

  Iceland and a volcano eruption? Something like that could only ever happen to Char. I really wanted to ask her what the hell she was doing in Iceland in the first place, but instead I went with the more pertinent question of when she thought she would get into town.

  Not sure. They say we have to wait for the visibility to get better.

  Great. My companion’s arrival date depended on the whims of Mother Nature. A quick search on my phone told me the last time a volcano had erupted in Iceland, flights had been grounded across Europe for five days. In five days, I was due back in the office. I was likely flying solo on this trip.

  Which meant I needed something a hell of a lot stronger than champagne. Signaling for the bartender, I ordered two shots of tequila.

  “Two shots?” I looked over at the man who had moved to stand next to me at the bar. He was cute, in a boy next door kind of way. Short brown hair with natural looking sun streaks paired with chocolate eyes. A wholesome smile revealed two large dimples on either side of his cheeks. He wasn’t overly dressed, wearing just a light blue polo and some cargo shorts. The uneven sun streaks and bronzed skin tone belied how much time he spent in the sun. His posture looked very relaxed, surprising given just how out of place he looked in this higher end hotel.

  Part of me wanted to tell him to fuck off, but he looked so unassuming that doing so felt k
ind of bitchy. And it’s not his fault I was in a bad mood. I went with a terse response instead. “Rough day.”

  “How can you have a rough day in Vegas?” He truly looked bewildered and slightly amused by the possibility. “Unless you lost a bunch of money and you don’t strike me as the gambling type.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Do you always give two word answers?”

  With a small laugh, I downed one shot and then purposely said, “Not always”.

  He smiled then, onto my game. Did I say earlier he was just cute? I don’t know if it was the alcohol or the dimples, but he definitely just jumped a few notches on the hotness scale with his megawatt smile. Wow. Talk about brightening the place up. “Ah, so it’s just me then. Am I rendering you speechless?”

  Arching a brow, I knocked back the other shot and signaled for the bartender. “You wish.” I ordered shot number three and a martini, not even caring that my body was totally going to be paying for all this alcohol tomorrow.

  It was his turn to cock a brow at me. “It’s been that kind of day, huh? I’m having a kind of crappy day myself. My friends ditched me.”

  “Really?” I said, my eyes narrowing in suspicion. His crappy day was sounding awfully close to my crappy day. Could he have heard me on the phone, using the overheard information to hit on me?

  “Yeah,” he sighed. Resting his elbows on the bar, he leaned ever-so-slightly away from me. Giving me space. Smart. I was already on alert and if he moved any closer, I was totally walking away. Truthfully, the only reason I had stayed this long is because it’s not like I had anything better to do. I was officially alone in Vegas until Charlotte made it in.

  If she ever made it in.

  That depressing thought had me sipping some more of my martini.

  “I drove down with some buddies from work and they all wanted to gamble. I hate gambling, which they knew before they coerced me into coming down with them in the first place.”

  “Coerced?” I doubt they had to twist his arm too much to convince him to vacation in Vegas.

  “Oh, yeah. Not at gunpoint or anything, but bodily harm was implied. Anyway, numerous promises were made, one of them being the gambling would be kept to a minimum and certainly not done as a whole group so that I wouldn’t feel isolated.” Frowning, he absently scratched at his chin. “I’m seriously starting to think they only wanted me to come because they needed another driver.”

  “You drove? From where?”

  He mockingly slapped a hand across his chest. “Ah! She spoke more than two words to me. My poor heart can’t take the shock.”

  I rolled my eyes, nudging him with my elbow. But I couldn’t help the smile curving along my lips. “Stop. Where from?” I repeated.

  “Montana.” Ah, so he hadn’t overheard me. Actually, it sounded like he was in a very similar situation as me, with the exception that his friends were physically in town. They were simply momentarily absent.

  Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was my overall sense of loneliness, but for some reason, I confessed a bit of my crappy day. “Well, my one friend decided not to fly in at the last minute and the other one is currently stuck at an airport overseas. Leaving me here all alone.” Lifting my martini glass, I made a sarcastic toast. “Cheers to that.”

  “Wow, and now an actual sentence. With multiple words. Subject, verb, predicate and everything. I feel almost honored. But, I must say…You think you got me beat?” Shaking his head, he slid into the stool next to mine. “I lost my kick ass position in Boston, had to move back to Montana to help my mother, and I’m currently waiting tables at a local diner in order to make ends meet. I haven’t taken a vacation in years and at the rate this one’s going, I might not ever want to take another one.”

  “That is pretty sad,” I agreed. “But I think I can top that. My boyfriend of nearly ten years broke up with me three months ago and just announced his engagement to this random girl we went to school with. Ten years with me, no ring. Three months with her and the wedding’s set for September.”

  “Okay, that’s pretty shitty. What a douche! After ten years?” Snorting, the guy signaled for the bartender. “That deserves another round of shots. Jesus! I can’t imagine being with a woman for ten years, then turning around and marrying someone else. You’ll have to give me a minute to think of something to top that with.”

  Smirking, I studied him over the rim of my martini glass. “You’re so confident you can top it?”

  The bartender handed over the shots and my stranger slid one to me with a smirk. “My life is full of disasters. Really, all that’s missing are some gods and goddesses causing all the mischief in the first place and you’d have a better Greek tragedy than Oedipus Rex.” Pausing, he grimaced slightly before vigorously shaking his head. “Scratch that. Oedipus Rex is a horrible example. I just realized that’s the one with the incest. There’s none of that in my tragedy, thank God.”

  I choked on a laugh. “What’s your name, Greek Tragedy?”

  “Anthony.”

  “You don’t go by Tony?”

  His face immediately contorted into a look of pure disgust. “No, absolutely not. I was named after my father. He’s Tony, I’m Anthony. What about you? Your name?”

  “Liz.”

  “Not Elizabeth?” Anthony mocked.

  Grinning at his tone, I polished off my martini before answering. “It was a joke in my family for all of us to have these cutesy nicknames that ended in –ie. Robbie, Eddie, and Lizzie. Liz seemed like a more happy medium the older I got.” The second the words were out, I wished I could take them back. I rarely mentioned Robbie and I prayed Anthony didn’t ask any more questions about my family.

  “Two brothers, huh? I’m an only child myself. I’ve always wanted a brother though.”

  I had to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “You’re more than welcomed to one of mine. So nothing to top my tragedy, huh?”

  He looked confused at first, but then he seemed to remember our earlier conversation. “Right, right. Why don’t we make this into a bet? If I can come up with something worse, you owe me a bottle of whiskey.”

  “I thought you hated gambling.”

  “Not when it’s with a beautiful woman and there’s a bottle of fine whiskey on the line.”

  Hmm. Smooth talker, this one. “And if you can’t top my story?”

  “I owe you a bottle.”

  That sounded reasonable and not too sleazy. I had half expected him to include a kiss somewhere in the bet, but I was starting to get the feeling he really was just feeling abandoned and bored. Those were feelings I could very much relate to and his company had been entertaining so far. “Okay, but let’s make it scotch and I’ll warn you now, I only drink top shelf stuff. It’s either Macallan or nothing.”

  “A woman after my own heart,” he murmured, a devilish grin flashing across his face. A boy next door type? What the hell was I thinking? Those dimples could easily have a woman’s knees turning to jelly. “Would Macallan 18 do?” I nodded in affirmation and Anthony put on his thinking face. Tapping his index finger against his chin, he absently studied the bar’s countertop.

  “I told you there was no topping it,” I gloated after a long, silent moment had passed. “My ex is the worst.”

  “My mother died of cancer.”

  That was a pretty serious one and I would have offered my condolences if it hadn’t been for his tone. He wasn’t looking for sympathy. He wanted to win our bet and something about the look in his eye said he had put it out there more to prove something to himself. Like the pain was still fresh and treating the issue so matter-of-factly was his way of attempting to move on.

  Or maybe I was reading way too much into a stranger’s facial expression. Especially while slightly intoxicated. Or very intoxicated.

  Either way, I doubt he wanted me to respond to his comment with gravity. And I had the perfect lighthearted response. “Pfft. So did mine.”

  “No shit? Mine was lung.
Yours?”

  “Breast. And I hadn’t even reached school age when it happened.”

  Anthony slapped his hand on the counter. “Damn! Okay, well, I’ve never met my father.”

  Another heavy topic. This one I could tell didn’t hurt him as much. He was grinning from ear to ear, like it was his ace in the hole. “You want to talk about daddy issues? My father was hardly ever around and when he was, it was either to nag us about something or parade around his latest new wife.”

  “Jesus, woman, leave some pain for the rest of us!” I giggled as he went back to tapping his chin. “Got it!” Rubbing his hands together, he swiveled in his stool to face me. “I didn’t lose my virginity until I was twenty-one. By then, I was so worked up from waiting so long, I practically shot off like a rocket the second I got it in. My nickname was Two Pump Tony until I got to grad school.”

  I blinked, taking a brief moment to process his words. During those mere seconds he must have realized what all he’d admitted, if his beet red complexion was any indicator. And I couldn’t help myself. Cackling with laughter, I gripped the side of the bar counter to keep from falling off my seat. “That sounds more embarrassing than tragic.”

  “It is tragic!” He insisted, his head still resembling a tomato, but at least he was smiling now. “Being a twenty-one-year old male virgin sucks. I had zero game and girls my age expected me to have some experience. For a while there, I thought it was never going to happen or that when it finally did happen, my dick would be too raw to perform from all the mas - Anyway,” he continued over my renewed laughter. “I finally manage to make things happen and last less than a minute. Maybe even under thirty seconds. I was lucky I ever convinced a girl to go out with me again after that story circulated campus.”

  “Hmm.” I pretended to ponder his story, imitating his chin-tapping thinking face technique. The truth is, I was having a lot of fun with this guy and I found myself wanting to share a bottle with him. And honestly, if we were going to start drunkenly belting out embarrassing stories, this game had to end now. Too high of a risk potential. “Well, then. I say we tie.”