Forever Bold: Forever Bluegrass #15 Read online

  Forever Bold

  Forever Bluegrass #15

  Kathleen Brooks

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  An original work of Kathleen Brooks. Forever Bold copyright @ 2021 by Kathleen Brooks

  Kathleen Brooks® and Forever Bluegrass Series® are registered Trademarks of Laurens Publishing, LLC.

  Created with Vellum

  Bluegrass Series

  Bluegrass State of Mind

  Risky Shot

  Dead Heat

  Bluegrass Brothers

  Bluegrass Undercover

  Rising Storm

  Secret Santa: A Bluegrass Series Novella

  Acquiring Trouble

  Relentless Pursuit

  Secrets Collide

  Final Vow

  Bluegrass Singles

  All Hung Up

  Bluegrass Dawn

  The Perfect Gift

  The Keeneston Roses

  Forever Bluegrass Series

  Forever Entangled

  Forever Hidden

  Forever Betrayed

  Forever Driven

  Forever Secret

  Forever Surprised

  Forever Concealed

  Forever Devoted

  Forever Hunted

  Forever Guarded

  Forever Notorious

  Forever Ventured

  Forever Freed

  Forever Saved

  Forever Bold

  Forever Thrown (coming Aug/Sept 2021)

  Shadows Landing Series

  Saving Shadows

  Sunken Shadows

  Lasting Shadows

  Fierce Shadows

  Broken Shadows

  Framed Shadows (coming Apr/May 2021)

  Endless Shadows (coming Oct 2021)

  Women of Power Series

  Chosen for Power

  Built for Power

  Fashioned for Power

  Destined for Power

  Web of Lies Series

  Whispered Lies

  Rogue Lies

  Shattered Lies

  Moonshine Hollow Series

  Moonshine & Murder

  Moonshine & Malice

  Moonshine & Mayhem

  Moonshine & Mischief

  Contents

  Family Trees for Keeneston

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Also by Kathleen Brooks

  About the Author

  Family Trees for Keeneston

  Davies Family Tree

  Keeneston Friends Family Trees

  Extended Family Tree for Keeneston and Shadows Landing

  Prologue

  Atlanta, two years ago . . .

  Ariana Ali Rahman, Princess of Rahmi, stared at the image of herself on the screen of her cellphone. She sat in the most luxurious hotel penthouse in Atlanta in a formal gown, designer shoes, and a diamond necklace that was a gift from the royal family’s vault.

  The photo was on a gossip site and showed her in a sequined mini dress at one of the downtown Atlanta clubs she’d visited the night before. It wasn’t just her smiling at the camera. No, her thick lashes were closed over her big brown eyes as she tossed back a shot of bourbon. Her long, thick, slightly wavy, dark-brown hair was frizzy with the heat from the club. It wasn’t the picture so much as the headline that made Ariana’s chest tighten with an indescribable feeling that was a mix of anxiety, guilt, and anger.

  Party Princess is at it again.

  Ariana’s eyes skimmed the article. Worthless. Waste of the world’s best education. Nothing more than a spoiled socialite.

  She wasn’t any of those things . . . was she?

  The knock on her door had her setting down her phone and using a tissue to blot the tears that had spilled down her cheeks. She took a deep breath and forced a smile on her face before getting up to answer the door.

  “Hey, Kale.”

  Kale Mueez was her best friend. He was just two years younger than Ariana and together the two of them had gotten into heaps of trouble as they played pranks on their older siblings, snuck out of their respective houses, and for the last couple of years, partied.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  “I’m ready, but the Daughters of Elizabeth Ball doesn’t start for another hour and a half. My family talked about getting together for dinner before we go.”

  Kale’s skin color was similar to Ariana’s since both of their fathers were from the small island country of Rahmi located in the Persian Gulf. Both of their mothers were American. However, Kale had inherited his mother’s shockingly bright blue eyes while Ari’s were dark brown like her father’s. Their fathers were best friends and growing up Ari and Kale, as the younger siblings, had become the best of friends, too. Kale’s father, Ahmed, had been Ariana’s father’s head of security until he retired and became a partner in the family horse farm.

  “Skip dinner. I have a friend in Atlanta and he wants to meet up for a drink before the ball. He and his family are going, too. We can drive to the ball together after we hang for a bit. Plus, I’m giving you a chance to make up for the fact I got a point when I dated your friend. The duchess or something from somewhere,” Kale said, somehow managing to look casual in a tuxedo.

  Ariana was skeptical as she texted her mother. One of the games she and Kale played when they were bored with the diplomatic life was seeing who could date the most famous person. Worthless. Waste. The article popped back into her head and for the first time, she wondered what she was really doing with her life. Right now she was in a juvenile competition to date famous people. Maybe the article wasn’t too far off and that hurt the most.

  Ariana looked down at her phone when her mother texted back. “Looks like we’re good to go. Let me grab my purse.” This would be the last one. She liked some of the diplomatic work she did for her family, but none of it was hers and none of it felt as if it mattered. Maybe it was time to find out what she really wanted to do with her life.

  Fifteen minutes later they were in the VIP section of a swanky bar at the top of one of the tallest buildings in Atlanta. The entire floor was made up of glass windows and dimly glowing chandeliers so you could best take in the view. “Who are we meeting?” Ariana asked Kale after she put in her drink order.

  “A friend from college. He just turned twenty-one this week so I thought I should buy him a drink.”

  Ariana groaned as an ice bucket with a
complimentary bottle of champagne was placed in front of them. “Twenty-one? He’s a baby. Then you add on that if he’s a friend of yours from college, he’s probably an antisocial computer nerd. Ugh, two computer hacker geniuses together. Should I go to sleep now or wait until you start talking about coding?”

  Kale looked around the room and his lips spread into a smile. “There he is. What do you think?”

  Ariana looked around and spotted a tuxedoed young man who could give any model a run for his money walking toward them. He had a large smile on his face and dark-blond hair. His deep-blue eyes creased to show the smile was real. “Nice, but come on, Kale. He’s twenty-one.”

  “So? I’m twenty-three.”

  “Yeah, but I’m twenty-five.”

  Kale stood up as the man approached him. Sure, he was four years younger than she was, but he was fit and good looking as hell. Okay, so maybe one more date to tie up the score between her and Kale and then she’d stop this stupid game.

  Ariana waited as the two men greeted each other, and then Kale and his friend were standing in front of her.

  “Ari, this is my friend Damon Charles. Damon, this is Her Highness Ariana Ali Rahman.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Ari said as Damon took her hand and placed a kiss on it.

  “You too. I’ve been looking forward to it since Kale told me he was bringing a friend.” Ah, a Southern accent. There was nothing sexier to Ariana than a gentleman with the smooth, slow accent only found in the Deep South.

  “So, you went to school with Kale? I take it you like computers.”

  Damon’s lips quirked up in amusement as he uncorked the champagne. “It’s a family defect. My father and I drive my mother and sister to bored tears at the dinner table. However, my youngest sister, who just turned sixteen, is smarter than I am. It’s embarrassing to be schooled by your baby sister.”

  Ari took a sip of champagne and found herself enjoying the conversation. “I wouldn’t know. I am a younger sister. What does your father do?”

  Kale cleared his throat, and with a smirk hidden behind his glass, he told her, “His father is Drake Charles, the tech giant, and his mother is Elle Simpson-Charles, the business tycoon.”

  “Bless her heart, I hope she bores your father and you to death with talks of mergers,” Ari joked. She knew who his parents were. Everyone knew who his parents were. They were both individually at the top of all the wealth lists and were known to be very philanthropic, especially in their hometown of Atlanta. No wonder they were going to the Daughters of Elizabeth ball tonight.

  Ari sat back and found herself enjoying the evening a lot more than she thought she would.

  Ariana enjoyed meeting Damon’s family just as much as meeting him. He was the only child there since his siblings and cousins were deemed too young to attend. Ari met his parents, Drake and Elle, and his aunts and uncles, Bree and Logan, Allegra and Finn, and Mallory and Reid. Although, when Ariana caught a glimpse of Abby Mueez, Kale’s sister, walking in with a tall, dark, and sexy man, she excused herself from the Simpson family. Abby never brought a man to anything. Ever.

  Ariana smiled to herself as she saw the Keeneston men converge on the man in a suit that made Damon’s custom tux look cheap. It had taken Ariana five boyfriends to admit that her family had been right. If a boy couldn’t stand a little getting-to-know-you session, then he wasn’t strong enough to be her boyfriend. Especially since she required a boyfriend who, on occasion, would have to take the backseat in a relationship. Unfortunately, the circles she ran in made it rare to find someone like her brothers, Zain and Gabe—men who weren’t afraid of hard work, manual labor, doing what had to be done, and supporting their spouses. Then add in someone who wasn’t only interested in advancing his politics and that cut out most of the men she knew.

  “Who’s the guy?” Ariana asked as she finally managed to get Abby by herself.

  “Sebastian Abel. He’s a friend from Washington, D.C. He’s giving a check to the Daughters of Elizabeth. Who’s the guy with Mallory Westin-Simpson?”

  “Of course you know Mallory. She’s a private security badass,” Ariana joked. Abby was the biggest badass Ari knew. She was slightly jealous. Ari would love to feel what it was like to know you could go anywhere and do anything and didn’t need to depend on anyone but yourself.

  “The boy. He is young, right?” Abby asked.

  “Twenty-one. He’s Elle and Drake Charles’s oldest son.”

  Ariana was going to ask Abby more about Sebastian but Sydney Davies McKnight, the head of the Daughters of Elizabeth charity, approached with a young woman at her side. The Daughters of Elizabeth was comprised of generations of daughters who worked hard to protect and provide for future generations. Sydney discovered the history when her great-grandmother, Ruth Elizabeth Wyatt, passed away. Sydney Elizabeth found the history buried in the backyard and with it, one last gift from Grandma Wyatt—Deacon McKnight. Now Sydney and her husband, Deacon, had turned the Daughters of Elizabeth into a full-fledged national charity helping victims of human trafficking.

  Sydney, in all her blonde, former supermodel glory, strode up with a huge smile. “I don’t know who he is, but his check makes me ignore the fact he says he’s not your boyfriend,” Sydney said with a laugh as she hugged Abby.

  “He’s just a friend,” Abby said again with a little groan to her voice.

  Sydney turned to the woman next to her. She was shorter than average, had hair that was so dark-brown it was almost black, and beautifully angled, deep-brown eyes. “Ladies, this is Jia. She’s one of our ladies the charity has helped and she’s the new ambassador for the program. Jia, these are my friends Abby and Ariana.”

  “It is nice to meet you,” Jia said in a soft voice that spoke with a heavy accent that seemed a mix of Eastern Europe and Asian.

  “It’s nice to meet you too. What will you be doing for Daughters of Elizabeth?” Ariana asked. Jia seemed quiet and a little nervous, but she didn’t shy away from conversation. In fact, she looked eager.

  “I was trafficked from my home country of Crusina,” Jia said. “Human rights are unheard of there. I was sixteen and was lucky enough to be able to continue my education. Not all girls are able to do so. I was walking to school in my small farming town when a very nice car stopped next to me. The driver asked if I wanted the honor of meeting the governor of our region and applying for a job. I knew what he was really saying, but I would have been killed if I turned down an audience with our governor.”

  Shivers ran down Ariana’s spine. “How scared you must have been!”

  Jia nodded. “It was the start of three years of hell. First, I was taken to the governor’s home and forced into labor. I wasn’t allowed out of his house for over a year. I was never able to contact my family and was locked in my room every night and only fed when his wife didn’t finish her meal. I was in charge of scrubbing the floors every day. Then, one day a man from neighboring Russia came to visit. He admired me and to help get the Russian government to agree to trade with our region, the governor gave me to him. I spent another year in Russia having what was left of my hope taken from me.

  “I was put on a ship with fifty other women and children and shipped to the United States. For a year I was forced to work in a massage parlor in New York City until a man came in. When he got me alone, he asked if I wanted my freedom. I thought he was just another in a long line of men to use me, but I nodded anyway in hopes of escape. He asked if there were others like me here. I nodded again and I told him we were all forced to be here except for the woman who ran the massage parlor and the men who guarded us.”

  Ariana felt tears silently slipping down her cheeks as Jia continued her story. “He told us to fight if we had to. And we did. He used this thing on the guards that caused their bodies to shake and then they dropped to the ground. I grabbed the other girls and we ran with our rescuer. He took us all to the Daughters of Elizabeth home in New York City. They brought in the police and provided us with law
yers. They gave us clean clothes, food, and the ability to reach our loved ones. They helped those who wanted to travel back to their homes. I talked to my family, but they agreed for me to stay here. It was safer. My home country is not a good place to live. But then Sydney came to talk to me and now I have a job—a job that can help people like me. I will be telling people my story in hopes of starting more centers like the one that saved me in New York City.”

  Ariana looked over to where Kale was laughing and hitting on a supermodel. Even her own parents were enjoying the party. She glanced at Damon and felt ashamed she’d been playing a dating game when Jia had been fighting for her life. She could do better. She would do better.

  1

  Keeneston, Kentucky, August . . .

  Ariana looked down at the last of the bags she had packed. Tonight she’d be leaving Keeneston for a month. She was taking the Daughters of Elizabeth’s message global. Reading about human trafficking and human rights violations was one thing, seeing it was another. She had secured ten minutes of speaking time at the United Nations Human Rights committee hearing in January, and she was using this trip to learn as much as possible. Then she could find the best ways to help those who didn’t have a voice of their own.