Inheritance Games Jameson Quotes

Heads, I kiss you. Tails, you kiss me. And either way, it means something.

Est unus ex nobis. Nos defendat eius." She is one of us. We protect her.

I love you. I would die to protect you. I would make you hate me to keep you safe because damn it, Avery—some things are too precious to gamble.

I came to see you,” Jameson told me. “Every day. The least you could have done was wake up while I was here, tragically backlit, unspeakably handsome, and waiting.

Picture yourself standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The wind is whipping your hair. The sun is setting. You long, body and soul, for one thing. One person. You hear footsteps behind you. You turn. Who's there? I remembered a voice. Jameson Winchester Hawthorne.

It would be shame," Jameson commented, "if we were related.

Getting involved with Jameson would just be throwing gasoline on the fire." "And what a lovely fire it would be,

Where are you going?” I asked him. After everything it has taken to get to this point, he couldn’t just walk away. “To hell, eventually,” Jameson answered. “Probably to the wine cellar, for now.

Jameson Winchester Hawthorne is hungry. He's been looking for something. He's been looking for it since the day he was born.

Jameson had a habit of tossing out words that should matter like they didn't at all.

I stepped into the secret passageway to find Jameson waiting for me. “Fancy meeting you here, Heiress.” “You,” I told him, “are the most annoying person on the face of the planet.

The answer to your first riddle,” I told him. “If yes is no and once is never, then the number of sides a triangle has… is… two.” I drew out my reply, not bothering to explain how I’d arrived at my answer

Jameson was close to me now. Too close. Every one of the Hawthorne boys was magnetic. Larger than life. They had an effect on people—and Jameson was very good at using that to get what he wanted. He wants something from me now.

Jameson smiled. It was his slow, dangerous, heady smile, designed to elicit a reaction. I didn’t give him one.

Allow me to get this straight,” Zara said, staring past Jameson and straight to me. “You, to whom my father left virtually everything, want the one and only thing he left to me?

Nash. Grayson. Jameson. Xander.” He said their names one at a time. “You were the clay, and I was the sculptor, and it has been the joy and honor of my life to make you better men than I will ever be. Men who may curse my name but will never forget it.

I'll have you know that most celebrity sites rank me as the second-hottest Hawthorne." -Jameson

If you want, Mystery Girl, you can start calling me Mystery Boy." -Jameson

But this... us..." He swallowed. "It can't happen, Avery. I've seen the way Jameson looks at you.

Sometimes,” Jameson Hawthorne said, sounding strangely contemplative, “things that appear very different on the surface are actually exactly the same at their core.

Screw Ian. Jameson didn't need Ian. It was--now and always--Jameson and Avery against the world

And that was why I was in these tunnels with Jameson Hawthorne. That was why he’d started looking at me like I was a mystery again, a puzzle that he, and only he, could solve.

Do you trust me, Heiress?” Jameson had donned a leather jacket. He looked like trouble. The good kind.

I have a better idea.” Jameson lowered his lips to mine. My neck arched. More mud on my face, my clothes. “I bet,” he countered, “that you can’t wash all this mud off before I…” “Before you what?” I murmured. Jameson Winchester Hawthorne smiled. “Guess.

Where are you going?” I asked him. [...] “To hell, eventually,” Jameson answered. “Probably to the wine cellar, for now.

Once you see that web of possibilities laid out in front of you, unencumbered by fear of pain or failure, by thoughts telling you what can and cannot, should and should not be done… What will you do with what you see?

Well then, Heiress.” Jameson stepped forward. Standing directly to my side, he brought his lips down to my ear and whispered, “Game on.

You made me hungry," I told Jameson. "for everything. I want the world now." I held his gaze in a way that dared him to look away. "And I want it with you.

I guess that’s what happens,” Jameson said, his eyes never leaving mine as his lips curled upward, “when you take a very risky gamble.

Jameson, Better the devil you know than the one you don’t—or is it? Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. All that glitters is not gold. Nothing is certain but death and taxes. There but for the grace of God go I. Don’t judge. —Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne

I told you she was special,” Jameson murmured as Grayson continued closing in on him. “And I told you to stay away from her.” Grayson stopped, just out of Jameson’s reach.

Like the sun and the moon I loved her. Saint Avery. Until death and beyond.

So,” Libby said sagely, “chess.” “Chess,” I repeated. “The move—it’s called the Queen’s Gambit. Whoever’s playing white puts that second pawn in a position to be sacrificed, which is why it’s considered a gambit.” “Why would you sacrifice a piece?” Libby asked. I thought about billionaire Tobias Hawthorne, about Toby, about Jameson, Grayson, Xander, and Nash. “To take control of the board,” I said.

Where angels fear to tread, have your fun instead.” Rohan’s voice was almost musical, but there was something dark in his tone. A promise. One that Jameson suspected that men in Rohan’s position had been making for centuries. “But be warned: The house always wins.

I moved on from Emily,” he said. “Gray didn’t. And I know in my soul that if he had, he could have loved you. He would have.

It would be a shame,” Jameson commented, “if we were related.” He spared another smile for me, slow and sharp-edged. “Don’t you think?

It’s okay, Heiress,” Jameson murmured. “I’ve got you.

Toby wasn’t an idiot.” Jameson’s expression was sharp. “Unless this was some kind of suicide pact, he would have had a contingency plan to make sure that he and his friends weren’t caught in the flames.

Est unis ex nobis. Nos defendat eius Grayson Hawthorne Scio Jameson Hawthorne

You don’t have to kiss me. You done even have to like me, Heiress, but please don’t make me do this alone. - Jameson

Did Jameson tell you that I killed her?

All I knew was that Skye had been right. Jameson was hungry. And so am I.

Stop looking at me like that," I told him sternly. "Like what?" he countered. I folded my arms and stared him down. "You turn on the charm when you want something." "Heiress, you wound me." Jameson looked better smirking than anyone had a right to look.

Which one of those explains your face?" Nash asked Jameson. The bruises and swelling clearly suggested that their brother had been in one hell of a fight. "Some faces need no explanation," Jameson replied. He gestured to his own. "Work of art.

Heiress you wound me" Jameson looked better smirking than anyone had a right to look.

Jameson thought about what he’d written down, and it took everything in him not to look at Avery, because suddenly, her presence here didn’t seem like a boon. It was a risk. After all, Jameson could hear the Proprietor saying, these things are always more interesting when at least a few players have “skin in the game.” Anyone reading those words would be bad. Avery reading them would open Pandora’s box.

But after reading even just a couple of my mom’s postcards? It was getting harder to ignore Grayson’s presence beside me, harder not to think about Jameson. My eyes stung, even though there was zero reason for me to be crying.

Better is being my friend and my partner and realizing that you don't get to make decisions for me. Better is the way you make me see myself as a person who's capable of anything. I would jump out of a plane with you, Jameson, snowboard down the side of a volcano with you, bet everything that I have on you - on us, against the world. You don't get to run off and take risks and expect me to stay behind in a gilded cage of your making. That isn't who you are, and it's not what I want.

Two,” I said now, just as I had then, but this time I couldn’t help wondering if Jameson was talking about a different kind of triangle—about him and Grayson and me.

Does “Don’t judge a book by its cover” mean anything to you? I asked Jameson. His reply was immediate. Very good, Heiress. Then, a moment later: It sure as hell does.

Grayson jerked to a halt, every muscle in his body taut. “Don’t you say her name.” His posture was angry, but his voice sounded like it was about to crumble. Like I’d gutted him. Not just Jameson. My mouth went dry. Emily didn’t just matter to Jameson.

I would die to protect you. I would make you hate me to keep you save because damn it, Avery - some things are too precious to gamble

Do you trust me, Heiress?” Jameson had donned a leather jacket. He looked like trouble. The good kind. “Not even a little,” I replied, but I took the helmet from his outstretched hand, and when he climbed onto the motorcycle, I climbed on behind him.

Finally, I texted Max. Jameson locked me in the world’s most expensive dungeon, I wrote. He’s got some asinine idea about protecting me. Max’s reply didn’t take long. THAT GREEN-EYED BASTARD.

That's what I love about you, Heiress." Jameson had a habit of tossing out words that should matter like they didn't at all.

Jameson Winchester Hawthorne loved me. He loved me, and I loved him.

If yes is no, and once is never, how many sides does a triangle have?" - Jameson Hawrthorne

Traps upon traps," Jameson had told me once. "And riddle upon riddles.

Everything?” Jameson repeated in a rough, low tone that made me think of what the two of us could be doing if I were there with him.

It’s okay Heiress’ Jameson murmured. ‘I’ve got you

Let me do it," Jameson said. "I can't protect you from everything, Heiress, but I can protect you from this." Jameson wasn't the Hawthorne I usually associated with protection.

Why would you sacrifice a piece?” Libby asked. I thought about billionaire Tobias Hawthorne, about Toby, about Jameson, Grayson, Xander, and Nash. “To take control of the board,” I said.

That won't be enough." How many times had Jameson heard some iteration of those words? How many times had he said them to himself? When you have certain weaknesses, you have to want it more.

It was always going to be you,” I told Jameson. He needed to hear it. I needed to say it, even though always painted over so much. In response, Jameson gave me another crooked smile. “It’s times like this, Heiress, that I wish I’d fallen in love with a girl who wasn’t quite so good at bluffing.

Your letter is written in proverbs,” I said, starting with the obvious. “All that glitters is not gold. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. He’s saying that money and power are dangerous. And the first line—better the devil you know than the one you don’t—or is it?—that’s obvious, right?” His family was the devil that Tobias Hawthorne had known—and I was the devil he hadn’t. But if that’s true—why me? If I was a stranger, how had he chosen me? A dart on a map? Max’s imaginary computer algorithm? And if I was a stranger—why was he sorry? “Keep going,” Jameson prompted. I focused. “Nothing is certain but death and taxes. It sounds to me like he knew he was going to die.” “We didn’t even know he was sick,” Jameson murmured. That hit close to home.

Heiress, before we start spilling secrets, I'm going to need you to promise me a plane.' 'A plane?' I gave him an incredulous look. 'You have several.' Jameson smiled. 'I want to borrow one.' 'Why do you need a plane?' Grayson asked suspiciously. Jameson waved away the question. 'Fine,' I told him. 'You can take one of my planes.' Yet another sentence I never thought I'd say.

Remind me to mock you for saying that later,” Jameson told him.

If yes is no and once is never then how many sides does a triangle have? - Jameson Hawthorne

Jameson hated to see any similarity between himself and his spoiled, sometimes homicidal mother,

Where are you going?" I asked him. [...] "To hell, eventually," Jameson answered. "Probably the wine cellar, for now.

It’s getting late,” “It was always late,” Jameson told me. “If you were going to turn into a pumpkin, it would have happened by now, Cinderella.

But Jameson excelled at pissing people off, and he'd always been taught to play to his strengths.

You've got to be kidding me," I told Jameson. "what?" Libby asked. Jameson smirked. "Hawthornes never kid about karaoke.

Jameson leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs, then let the front legs drop down and leaned to whisper directly into my ear. “Toby Hawthorne is your father.

Do you know why Jameson was daddys favorite when by all rights it should have been perfect, dutiful Grayson?" "It wasn't because my Jamie is brilliant or beautiful or charismatic. It was because Jameson Winchester Hawthorne is hungry.

Do you trust me, Heiress?" Jameson had donned a leather jacket. He looked like trouble. The good kind. "Not even a little," I replied, but I took the helmet from his outstretched hand, and when he climbed onto the motorcycle, I climbed on behind him.

Tobias Hawthorne had given himself a middle name at the same time he’d disinherited his family. Tattersall. Tatters, all. Given everything that Jameson and Xander had told me about their grandfather, that seemed like a message. Leaving the money to me—and before me, to charity—wasn’t the point. Disinheriting his family was. “What the hell happened twenty years ago in August?” I asked. Alisa seemed to be weighing her response. My eyes narrowed, and I wondered if any part of her was still loyal to Nash. To his family. “Mr. Hawthorne and his wife lost their son that summer. Toby. He was nineteen, the youngest of their children.

Did you find what I found?” he asked me. “Two of the four charities have connections to victims of the fire. I’m still piecing together the rest, but I have a theory.” “Does your theory involve Toby having been a patient at Camden House and potentially losing his memory after the fire?” I asked. Jameson leaned toward me. “We’re brilliant.

My mother’s postcards,” I whispered, and took off running. Oren bolted after me, and the others weren’t far behind. I made it to my room in a matter of seconds, to my closet in less than that, and soon I was holding the postcards in my hand. There was nothing written on the back, no postage. I’d never questioned where my mother had gotten them. Or from whom. I looked up at Jameson and Grayson, Xander and Nash. “You Hawthornes,” I whispered hoarsely, “and your invisible ink.

But somewhere around a hundred and fifty miles an hour, I stopped thinking about should. Adrenaline. Euphoria. Fear. There wasn’t room in my head for anything else. Speed was the only thing that mattered. That, and the boy beside me. I didn’t want him to slow down. I didn’t want the car to stop. For the first time since the reading of the will, I felt free. No questions. No suspicions. No one staring or not staring. Nothing except this moment, right here, right now. Nothing except Jameson Winchester Hawthorne and me.

Why do you think this house has so many secret passages? Why are there so many keys that don’t work in any of the locks? Every desk my grandfather ever bought has secret compartments. There’s an organ in the theater, and if you play a specific sequence of notes, it unlocks a hidden drawer. Every Saturday morning, from the time I was a kid until the night my grandfather died, he sat my brothers and me down and gave us a riddle, a puzzle, an impossible challenge—something to solve. And then he died. And then…” Jameson took a step toward me. “There was you.

Grayson’s expression became, in a word, murderous. “He touches her when she doesn’t want to be touched. I saw the father do the same thing to Acacia—a hand on her shoulder, inching toward her neck.” There were slabs of granite softer than Grayson’s jaw at that moment. “The son is whiny,” he told them. “The father is dangerous.” “So we take him out.” Nash took off his second-favorite cowboy hat. Jameson smiled. Kent Trowbridge didn’t know what he’d gotten himself into. No one stood a chance against any two of the Hawthorne brothers, let alone all four. “What do we have to work with, Gray?

I held up the coin. It's not the disk," I said. But sometimes you have to improvise. My heart was racing. I was vibrating with the same energy I'd heard in his tone. And like Jameson, I loved it. My voice cracked. It means something. Jameson shot me one of those devastating, crooked Jameson Winchester Hawthorne grins. What are you saying, Heiress? I tossed the coin into the air, and as it turned, I thought about everything that had happened. All of it. I'd found Toby. I knew my mother's secret. I understood, more then ever, why my name had caught the attention of a billionaire who'd only met me once. Maybe that was all there was to it . Or maybe I was one stone ment for twelve birds, most of them still undiscovered. Like Jameson had said, this was Hawthorne House. There would always be another mystery. Like me, Jameson would always be driven to solve them. The coin landed. Tails, I said. I kiss you. I wrapped my arms around his neck. I pressed my lips to his. And this time, the joke was on me-because I wasn't playing. This wasn't nothing this was the beginning-and I was ready to be bold. -Avery Kylie Grambs (The Hawthorne Legacy)

We wachten wel tot u klaar bent met bidden,' antwoordde ik op een toon die mijn nederigheid moest overbrengen - of dat in elk geval proberen. 'Met bidden?' gromde Nan. 'Met onze Schepper eens goed de waarheid te vertellen, bedoel je.' 'Mijn grootvader heeft deze kapel gebouwd zodat Nan ergens tegen God kon schreeuwen,' zei Jameson tegen me.

was always going to be you,” I told Jameson. He needed to hear it. I needed to say it, even though always painted over so much. In response, Jameson gave me another crooked smile. “It’s times like this, Heiress, that I wish I’d fallen in love with a girl who wasn’t quite so good at bluffing.

My grandfather built this chapel so Nan would have someplace to yell at God,” Jameson informed me.

Jameson bringing me closer to Grayson instead of pushing me away. I held the picture out, and Grayson’s fingers brushed mine as he took it.

Light shall reveal all I writ upon the… “Wall,” Jameson whispered, like he’d lifted the word directly from my thoughts. He was breathing hard—hard enough to make me think that his heart was pounding even faster than mine. “Which wall?” I asked, stepping up beside him. Slowly, Jameson turned, three hundred and sixty degrees. He didn’t answer my question, so I threw out another one. “Invisible ink?” “Now you’re thinking like a Hawthorne.” Jameson closed his eyes. I could practically feel him vibrating with energy. My entire body was doing the same. “Light shall reveal all.” Jameson’s eyelids flew open, and he turned again, until we were facing each other. “Heiress, we’re going to need a black light.

Where’s Jameson?” I asked. Xander cleared his throat. “I can report that some very colorful language was used when I requested his presence.

I watched as the boys opened and read theirs. Nash swore under his breath. Grayson stared at his. Jameson let out a broken little laugh. Xander shoved his into his pocket.

Jameson reached out and took her hand. “If I told you that someone wanted revenge against the Hawthorne family—” Nan patted the side of his face. “I’d tell that person to get in line.

Praying?” Nan grumbled. “More like giving our Maker a piece of my mind.” “My grandfather built this chapel so Nan would have someplace to yell at God,” Jameson informed me.

Est unus ex nobis. Nos defendat eius. As I’d suspected, it was Latin. An online translator told me that it meant It is one of us. We protect it. Jameson’s response, Scio, meant I know. It only took me one more search to realize that the same translation would hold if it was replaced with she. She is one of us. We protect her.

The old man raised us. He made us in his own image.” Jameson swung, and the ball went soaring. “Xan has his mind. Grayson got the gravitas. Nash has a savior complex. And I…” Another ball. Another shot. “I don’t know when to give up.

you need someone. I understand that, Avery. And you don’t want that someone to be a Hawthorne. Whatever’s going on with you and Jameson—” “There’s nothing going on between us.” That got me an Alisa Look and then some. “First the roof, then the hotel.” She paused. “Call your friend Max. Let her be your person. Not one of them.

Jameson has laser focus. Grayson always finishes what he starts. Even Nash, he might take the scenic route, but he's wired to go from point A to point B." Xander finished tinkering and finally turned to face me. "But me? I'm not wired that way. I start at point A, and somewhere along the way, I end up at the intersection of one hundred and twenty-seven and purple." He shrugged. "It's one of my many charms. My brain likes diversions. I follow the paths that I find.

I didn’t want him to slow down. I didn’t want the car to stop. For the first time since the reading of the will, I felt free. No questions. No suspicions. No one staring or not staring. Nothing except this moment, right here, right now. Nothing except Jameson Winchester Hawthorne and me.

You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” Avery asked. Jameson opened his eyes, stared into hers, then lit the fuse. “No, Heiress. We are.

If I’d known we were having a party,” Jameson half sang, “I would have ordered food.” “A party?” I asked. “A pity party.” Jameson smirked. “I see you dressed for the occasion, Gray.

The press had been cleared out, but Oren and his men were still there waiting—and so was Jameson Winchester Hawthorne. Grayson saw his brother standing there, and he answered on behalf of both of them. “We will.