The Receptionist Is A Vicious Heiress
Dean wrapped Skylar in his own bespoke cashmere overcoat, then laughed, a casual, dismissive sound as he pushed me toward the circle of trust fund brats.
"What's the fun in watching the guys strip when you can watch the little ingnue type do it?"
Huddled in Dean's embrace, Skylar smirked, her voice syrupy sweet as she addressed the onlookers. "Guys, this is Will, the girl who works the front desk at my dad's office. You know how those people areflash enough cash, and they'll play any game you want."
Dean leaned in, his breath hot against my ear, the intimacy sickeningly fake. "Skylar's the CEO's daughter, Will. Can't risk her image. Think of this as doing the company a favor. I'll make sure you get a generous bonus."
He had no idea.
I was the real heiress. The 'receptionist' gig was just a clause in my grandfather's insane, iron-clad inheritance wager.
As the most notorious 'Black Sheep' in The Circlethe one everyone secretly called the Vicious Princessno one, and I mean no one, had dared to play games with me in years.
1
Jax Ryker, the ringleader, exhaled a plume of smoke directly into my face and slammed a heavy-duty revolver onto the mahogany table. "Front Desk Girl," he sneered, his eyes hard. "Can you actually afford to play? Lose, and it's not just about taking off clothes."
I raised an eyebrow. The last time I'd heard that tone from him was two years ago. Jax and his crew had cornered me on a winding Malibu canyon road, insisting on a street race. The memory of having ten of them dangling over a sheer dropterrified, humiliated, and unable to climb the hill for a yearwarmed me.
At least he had some guts this time. But the lack of perception was insulting. I'd grown my hair out, traded smoky eyes for a minimal look, but still. None of them recognized Willow Lockwood.
Seeing my silence, Skylar started whining, practically jumping up and down in Dean's arms. "Dean! You gonna let her ruin your old man? She won't play, which means I have to strip again!"
Dean stepped in front of me, his voice low, measured, and utterly certain. "Will. You walk out now, and we're done. We break up."
For a year, the mere threat of a breakup had been his ace card; I'd always folded instantly. He was convinced I was desperately in love, yet he didn't know breaking up was one of the few things that could void my inheritance wager.
I pushed back my sleeve and glanced at my watch. Three hours left.
"Fine. What's the game?"
Jax crushed the cigarette butt against the table, his gaze dropping suggestively to my chest. "Debt first. Peel something off."
I looked at Dean. He averted his eyes, pulling Skylar tighter, unwilling to intervene. My grandfather had always said I had the ruthlessness but lacked the judgment to pick allies. I guess he wasn't wrong.
I tossed the cashmere wrap onto the deck, revealing the silky chemise beneath.
Jax licked his lips. "Russian Roulette. Six chambers, one bullet. We take turns, pulling the trigger. Skip your turn, and you strip." He then demonstrated, raising the gun to his own temple and pulling the trigger, which was met with a roar of cheers.
He was waiting for me to cry, to beg, to be humiliated. Too bad. Jax was still playing in the dirt when I was pointing a gun at a cartel leader's head.
I snatched the gun, spun the cylinder, then slammed it shut. Without hesitation, I pointed it at my temple and pulled the trigger.
Dean instinctively shielded Skylar with his coat, as if afraid my blood might stain her. Jax was genuinely stunned.
"You're the second woman who's ever dared to play that." A flicker of an old shadow crossed his eyes, then vanished.
We went back and forth, turn after turn, until only one chamber was left, and it was my turn to pull the trigger.
"Front Desk Girl, game over," Jax growled, a hideous grin stretching across his face.
From the moment I first held that gun, I knew Jax's trick. A specialized revolverthe round was resting firmly in the sixth chamber.
But, he was about to be disappointed.
I hooked a smile and, amidst the drunken chants of, "Strip! Strip! Strip!" I pulled the trigger.
Everyone gasped, eyes clenched shut. Even Jax looked panicked; he just wanted a show, not a homicide.
The air remained still. I stood there, untouched, a cold, mocking smile playing on my lips. "Well, well. Jax Ryker, the big shot, using blanks to scare a girl? You're a coward."
I'd palmed the real bullet and flicked it discreetly into the dark water. Jaxs face flushed scarlet as the eyes of his friends turned on him.
He opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. "Strip, Jax. I won't hold it against you."
Knowing no one would believe his denial, and unwilling to look like a chicken in front of his crew, Jax ripped off his shirt.
"Again!" he snarled.
A large, iron cage was brought up, covered by a black tarp. When they pulled it off, my composure finally slipped. Jax was pushing his luckhe'd stolen Kaa, my pet Burmese Python. His easy access to the Lockwood estate confirmed my suspicion: he was working with Eliza, my stepmother.
"Front Desk Girl, one python each. First one bitten loses."
Skylar, who'd just been muttering about my "beginner's luck," brightened up and grabbed the only vial of anti-venom.
Jax was clearly comfortable with his snake; it settled placidly on his shoulders. He scoffed, certain of my refusal. The python in the cage hissed and showed its fangs toward me.
"Oopsie!" Skylar chirped, the vial slipping from her hand and shattering on the deck. She watched me, a triumphant, venomous glint in her eyes. "I suggest you strip, Willow. Getting to please Jax is the best option you've got now."
Dean stepped in front of her. "Will, Skylar didn't mean to. Just give in, alright? You don't have to do this."
I gave a cold, sharp laugh and opened the cage myself.
Kaa lunged straight for my neck. Everyone gasped, expecting the strike, but instead, the massive snake settled around my shoulders, circling me like a beloved scarf, and went still.
Everyone, including Jax, was speechless.
I whistleda high, clear note.
The python wrapped around Jax, which had been docile, suddenly writhed, coiling tighter and tighter, crushing the air from his lungs. Jax shrieked in genuine terror. The snake opened its mouth, ready to strike.
"I forfeit!"
Jax tore off his swim trunks, leaving him completely naked, his face a sickening green. "Are you really just the damn receptionist?"
I noted the timetwo hours left. I offered him a wide, innocent smile. "Of course. I grew up on the property's edgelots of snakes in the foothills."
My cover story was simple and believable enough to calm the crowd's suspicions.
"Jax," I said sweetly. "Any more death-defying games you want to try?"
Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. "Violence is boring. Let's relax. Something else." He gave a signal to one of his lackeys, who brought forward a small, dark green vial.
"It's a Pentothal derivative," Jax explained. "Used for international interrogations. The third game is simple: drink it, answer truthfully. Refuse to answer, and you strip."
I took the vial and drank the whole thing.
Skylar stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Jax is losing his edge. I've got this, godmother." She glanced at the onlookers. "I'll get her stripped for you." Jax lit a cigarette and let her take over.
"First question. Did you have an ulterior motive for being with Dean Abbott?"
The serum was potent; the truth slipped out before I could even process it. "Yes."
Dean's face crumpled. "I knew it! You're just after my money, aren't you? You never loved me."
Not your money, you idiot. The wager.
Skylar pressed on. "What motive?"
I can't say that yet.
Without hesitation, I stripped off my chemise, revealing the bikini top. Jax's eyes widened, and he signaled for Skylar to continue.
"Have you ever compromised yourself with older men for money?"
"Yes."
"How many 'older men' have paid you?"
"Eighteen."
A collective gasp went around the deck. "I can't believe this girl is so trashy for money!"
Dean was white with fury, his fists clenched. "You have the nerve to admit that!"
What's the big deal? They were family elders, sending money to the heir. But on this yacht, in this context, let them think what they want.
Skylar changed course. "Have you ever harmed a child?"
"Yes."
Five years old. Forced my stepmother to terminate the pregnancy she was using to usurp me.
Skylar had clearly been coached by Eliza. My grandfathers wager was known only by the inner circle: Be stable. Keep the boyfriend. Become Chairman.
"Have you ever physically harmed an elderly person?"
"Yes."
Ten years old. The old man my stepmother abandoned me with in the hills. He wanted to assault me. I broke his skull.
Dean was livid. "I can't believe I mistook you for a decent person! You didn't even spare a child or an old man."
I didn't spare my own friends either.
Twelve years old: My best friend took a hundred grand from Eliza to push me off a mountain during a trip. I strangled her.
Fifteen years old: My childhood friend tried to inject me with drugs for Elizas five percent company shares. I shipped him to the Golden Triangle.
Skylar dabbed at non-existent tears, leaning into Dean. "Dean, she's so cold, so unaffected by her own monstrosity. She doesn't deserve you."
Jax, spurred on by the crowd, grabbed my bikini strap and crushed his cigarette butt, hard, right onto my shoulder.
"Stop pretending to be the little damsel, Will. I wouldn't even play poker with someone as dirty as you."
I smiled, brushing the ash away. Patience. I'll get that serum into every one of them. We'll see who's 'dirty' then.
The insults rained down, yet I kept answering Skylar's questions.
"Have you ever been unfaithful to Dean?"
I nodded. "Yes."
Skylar delivered the final, calculated blow. "Do you have a child that does not belong to Dean Abbott?"
I was genuinely shocked Skylar knew this. She'd been laying a trap.
"Yes."
The word was barely out when Dean lunged, slapping me across the face with brutal force. "Bitch! We're done! We are breaking up right now!"
My watch flashed: One hour until the year is up.
I spat out a mouthful of blood and forced the rage down. My voice was calm, almost conversational. "I do have a son. He's not yours, Dean, but heres the kicker: he's five years older than me. I've never been unfaithful to you."
The deck was suddenly quiet. They knew the serum guaranteed truth. Dean and Skylar were utterly confused. Dean's rage instantly dissolved into relief.
I looked at him, forcing a few well-placed tears to my eyes. "Our anniversary is in one hour. Please, don't end things now. I promised I'd tell you who he is at the one-year mark."
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