between Weston Lockwood and me started at the altar.
neither of us attended the wedding, and the nuptials happened decades before
either of us was born.
grandfathers had been best friends and business partners, at least up until my
grandfather’s wedding day—when his bride-to-be blurted out she couldn’t marry
him because she was also in love with Weston‘s grandfather.
The two men
spent years fighting over Grace Copeland, who also happened to be their third
business partner. But in the end, neither man could steal half of her
heart away from the other.
they all went their separate ways. Our
grandfathers married other women, and the two men became one of the biggest
business rivals in history.
continued the family tradition of feuding.
And then Weston and I did, too.
most part, we kept as much distance as possible.
day the woman who started the feud died—and unexpectedly left one of the most
valuable hotels in the world to our grandfathers to share.
stuck in a hotel with the man I was born to hate, trying to unravel the mess
our families inherited.
it didn’t take long for us to be at each other’s throats.
Lockwood was everything I hated: tall, smart, cocky, and too gorgeous for his
own good. We were fire and ice.
shouldn’t be an issue. Our families were used to being at war. There was just
one minor problem, though. Every time
Weston and I fought, we somehow wound up in bed.
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