Three Billionaires Claimed Me Tonight novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Ash

Cressida confiscates the island deed and the equity folder as forgeries, throws ash wine in Lena's face, and takes a slap back; as her fist rises, the doors burst in on three men.

"Give it back," I said again.

Cressida turned the clasp of her purse and smiled.

"Nice prop. Which Etsy shop made it?"

I opened my phone and held up the county record.

The estate was registered under my full legal name.

"Then give us your Social Security number so we can run a search," Cressida said.

"I'm not giving you my Social Security number."

"Deflection," her friend said. "That PDF is forged."

The friend was already on her knees on the parquet, going through the things from my tote.

She came up with a thick blue folder stamped in gold with the seal of the Bahamian land registry.

She opened it and read the first page, and her hands shook.

"Cressida. This is the deed for Halcyon Cay. It's the island Dorian Faulk bought last spring."

"The grantee is her?" someone whispered.

"It was in *Architectural Digest,*" another girl said. "That's the island."

Cressida ripped the folder out of her friend's grip.

"Anyone can read the news and copy a name onto a template," she said, and she shoved it into her bag with the key.

Another folder lay open on the floor, embossed with the logo of Maddox's company.

Cressida read the top page and the color left her face.

Ten percent common equity.

A pre-IPO valuation of over a billion dollars.

"The seals are raised, Cressida," Posey said, very quietly.

"Have you ever seen a real billion-dollar agreement?" Cressida snapped. "Stamps are cheap."

She stuffed the folder in beside the others and patted her bag.

"Three counts of fraud," she said to the room. "After tonight she won't be able to show her face in this city."

"Take everything out of that bag," I said.

"Get on your knees and admit you lied, and I might give you your paper back."

The door at the back clicked open.

A floor captain in a tailored vest stepped in, bowed to me, and looked at his shoes.

"Ms. Prescott. There are three gentlemen downstairs for you."

Nobody in the room moved.

"Mr. Aldous, Mr. Faulk and Mr. Wynn," the captain said. "They came in the same car."

I assumed they had met in the lobby, and I didn't stop to think about it.

Cressida's friend jumped to her feet.

"They actually came?"

"Three men with the same first names as the real ones," Cressida said, much too fast. "She hired extras."

"Would real billionaires carpool to pick up a girl in a canvas bag?" her friend said, grabbing at the idea. "Of course they're extras."

My phone lit up three times in a row.

*Christian: Downstairs.*

*Dorian: Baby, don't make me wait.*

*Maddox: Tell them to let me up.*

My head started to ache.

Three men in one lobby was the one thing I had spent a year making sure never happened.

"Send them up," I told the captain.

Cressida leaned across the table, read the screen, and laughed out loud.

"You scripted your own texts!"

"Anyone can fake a screenshot," her friend said.

"Would Christian Aldous call a girl in an H&M dress 'baby'?" someone else said.

The room found its nerve again.

"Give me back my documents before they walk in," I said. "If you're still holding them, you're done."

"Hear that? Three years and not one person in this room believes you," Cressida said. "Doesn't that feel like failing?"

She picked up the glass of red wine in front of her, tipped the full heavy ashtray into it, and stirred the sludge with a fork.

"Drink it," she said. "Drink it, kneel, and tell us they've never heard of you. Then you get your fake papers back and you walk out with your dignity."

"Cressida, I strongly advise you not to do this."

She laughed and put the rim against my lip.

"Drink."

I slapped the glass away.

Wine spattered the front of her silk gown.

Cressida's face twisted, and she threw the whole glass into mine.

Gray sludge ran down my forehead and into my collar.

Wet ash stuck to my cheeks and stank of old cigarettes.

For a moment the room was silent, and then it laughed.

Her friend dropped a linen napkin by my feet. "Clean up, sweetie. That bottle cost more than your rent."

Cressida jingled the Seaward House key.

"Did you really think a pretty face could turn the most powerful men in the country into lapdogs? Wake up. Girls like you play princess in clearance-rack cotton."

I wiped my eyes with my wrist.

I picked up an untouched Scotch from the table and threw it in her face.

Then I stepped forward and slapped her with everything I had.

The crack echoed off the walls.

The laughter stopped.

Two of her friends grabbed my arms and wrenched them behind my back.

Cressida, dripping Scotch, took a fistful of my hair.

"You hit me?" she screamed. "You broke little nobody, you hit me?"

She pulled back her right fist, aiming for my temple.

The double doors blew off their latches and slammed into the plaster.

Christian Aldous stood dead center in a dark overcoat, his face as flat as ice.

Dorian Faulk was beside him, still in his ivory tuxedo from the red carpet, his jaw locked.

Maddox Wynn pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up with one finger and looked at the two women holding me.

Cressida's fist froze in the air.

The three men I had kept apart for a year stood shoulder to shoulder in the door.

Not one of them looked at the others twice.

I took it for shock.

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