Marry Me Off to a Control-Freak Heir? Great, I'm a Natural Introvert

I had just slipped away from the Vale family's winter benefit when my mother found me hiding behind a velvet curtain with a glass of untouched champagne. "Your father is looking for you," Elise Vale said. She didn't sound angry. That was worse. "The Larkins have been waiting to meet you." Through the gap in the curtain, I could see the ballroom: six hundred guests, a string quartet, and a banner welcoming me to the family foundation. I'd been back in my birth parents' lives for eleven months. Long enough to learn which fork went with the fish, which donors hated small talk, and how to smile until my cheeks hurt. "I've already met the Larkins," I said. "You met their daughter. Her parents just arrived." "Then I should probably let them enjoy the party without a second introduction." Mom's mouth tightened, then relaxed. She had practiced that expression in front of me all year: worry softened by patience, never quite becoming disappointment. "I know this is tiring," she said. "But people have gone out of their way to welcome you." The word went out of their way landed exactly where she intended. I had been found through a mutual DNA match after my adoptive mother died, and the Vales had made room for me with a generosity I had never expected. The invitation to join their family had felt like a second chance. I'd been afraid that being difficult would make them regret offering it. So I had become easy. "I'll come back in," I said. Mom touched my arm. "That's my girl." I made it through the Larkins, the governor's wife, and two foundation trustees before Graham Vale lifted a hand for quiet. My father had a gift for making a crowded room feel as if it were waiting only for him. "I'd like to introduce someone who has become very dear to us," he said. That was my cue. I stepped beside him and smiled. Cameras lifted around the ballroom. "This is Nora," he said. "Our daughter." Applause followed. I'd heard it before, but tonight it seemed to last long enough for my face to start aching. Then Graham mentioned the Mercers. "They've been instrumental partners in our restoration work," he said. "And I'm pleased that Nora and Adrian have agreed to spend more time together." The applause thinned into a murmur. I turned toward the entrance. Adrian Mercer stood with his father near the ballroom doors, tall and neatly dressed, with a dark suit that looked made to conceal any softness. He had the sort of stillness that made everyone else seem fidgety. I knew who he was. His family owned half the old waterfront in Bellwether, including the grand Mercer Hotel, and he chaired the committee overseeing its renovation. The society pages called him decisive. One local business magazine had called him exacting. A staff member at the foundation had called him "the human version of a locked filing cabinet." Adrian crossed the ballroom and stopped in front of me. "Nora," he said. "Would you like to talk somewhere quieter?" My father smiled at us like the night was unfolding according to plan. "Of course," I said. I was already rehearsing how to be pleasant when Adrian added, "And before you agree to anything else, I want you to know I haven't agreed to marry you." The smile on my face stayed exactly where it was. "Then I'm not the only one being surprised tonight," I said. His eyes flicked toward the crowd. "Apparently not."