Chapter 11
CHARLOTTE
Gregory was showing me some of his true colors and he was not the Prince Charming I’d thought at first he might be.
The accent did a lot of the heavy lifting for him, since his personality was as exciting as a cup of lukewarm tea.
All weekend, I’d told myself that maybe he was just the kind of guy I needed time to warm up to, but nope.
Standing beside him in the foyer, I listened as he droned on about the economic inefficiencies of my foundation’s outreach program—his actual words, not mine.
“It’s sweet, really,” he said, adjusting the cuff of his pristine shirt like he was posing for a catalog. “It’s nice that this little charity thing keeps you occupied.”
He smiled at me like I should be grateful for the verbal pat on the head.
I tried to steer the conversation toward literally anything else, but he just would not let it go.
“Ideally, once we’re settled, you won’t need these projects.
My wife will have a full, elegant schedule that won’t involve throwing herself into street-level philanthropy. ”
My eyes widened, my jaw threatening to drop, and still, he wasn’t even done. “No Van Allen would be rolling up her sleeves like that. That’s what donations are for. Someone else handles the messy parts.”
My stomach iced over, but he kept talking, listing expectations like he was reading from a job description for a position I’d never applied for. Hosting. Social calendars. Public appearances. Being serene, supportive, and soft.
The way his eyes dragged over me when he thought I wasn’t looking was almost just as bad, a slow, proprietary sweep that made my skin crawl. When he leaned in closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret with a lover, I felt every hair on my arms stand up.
“You clean up well,” he murmured. “Better than I expected. When we’re married, we’ll have plenty of time to work on the rest.”
I flinched back so fast that he blinked. His expression cooled instantly into something hard and ugly before he smoothed it back into a smile. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Charlotte. We both know what’s coming. It’s best to start getting comfortable.”
The bottom of my chest dropped out. This wasn’t discomfort or nerves. It was just plain wrong. I muttered an excuse I couldn’t even remember and slipped away before he could grab my elbow or say anything else that would make me scream, cry, or both.
Moving fast up the stairs, my pulse was pounding in my throat, each of my breaths tighter than the last. I needed distance. Air. I needed family that wasn’t trying to sell me off like a prize heifer. Someone who could keep Gregory away from me with nothing more than a look.
Down the hall, I noticed that the library door was cracked open and I didn’t even think. I headed straight toward it, desperate for refuge, for my brothers, and for anything that didn’t feel like the walls closing in, and then the dam inside me burst.
Alex took a step toward me like he was gearing up for a Very Serious Brother Lecture, but I cut him off before he could even open his mouth fully. Based on what Trent had just said and the look on both Alex and Nate’s faces right now, I knew what they were about to suggest and I wasn’t doing it.
“No,” I said, holding up my hands. “I’m not fake-dating Trent.”
Alex stopped. His eyebrows shot up like I’d slapped him with a fish. “I wasn’t going to suggest that. Well, okay, I was, but hear me out.”
“No,” I repeated, because apparently tonight was the night I became fluent in one-syllable refusals.
Trent shifted his weight, his arms loose at his sides. He still looked like he could snap a man in half without even trying, and he was just staring at me. Steady and quiet, like he was trying to work out a puzzle without all the pieces.
Alex blew out a sigh. “Dad is set on this thing with Gregory, Char.”
His tone dipped there and he was being strangely careful with his words. Too careful. It wasn’t like Alex to tiptoe, which meant that there was something he wasn’t saying—and that scared me more than anything he’d actually said so far.
“Dad is wrong,” I said, heat rising to my neck. “I’m not getting shoved into some arrangement I don’t want.”
“I know,” Alex said, raking a hand through his hair with obvious tension thrumming all the way through him. “We just need time to figure out how to talk him down or to convince him this isn’t a good match.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Nate muttered.
Meanwhile, I could feel Trent’s eyes on me like a physical thing and I snapped my gaze his way. Those incredible blue eyes were searching when they met mine, intent and still studying like he was trying to work something out.
“What?” I demanded. “What are you looking at?”
He didn’t even blink, just taking me in and probably seeing the wild panic in my eyes. The way my hands kept fisting at my sides. When Alex finally fell silent, Trent straightened up, speaking in that slow, Texas drawl.
“Do you want to come down to the ranch with me for a week or two?” he asked. “You can just lie low while Alex comes up with a better plan.”
My heart stuttered, but it was absolutely not because of him. It was purely because the situation was so damn insane.
Obviously.
“I, uh, I don’t know,” I said quickly. “I mean, I shouldn’t. I’m not running away. And I don’t need—”
I gestured at him vaguely, because how was I supposed to say your stare is melting my brain aloud?
“I don’t need to lie low,” I finally finished lamely. “All I need is for my dad to realize that Gregory is not the one.”
Trent’s expression didn’t change, except that maybe his eyes warmed a fraction, which didn’t help my heartbeat situation at all.
“He’s right,” Alex said suddenly, snapping his fingers. “That’s perfect. Go to Texas.”
“What?” I whirled to face him. “No!”
“Yes,” he insisted, already shifting into Problem-Solving Commander mode. “Dad can’t arrange anything if you’re not physically here, Char. This will give us time. Trent’s ranch is isolated and he’s the last person Gregory would ever think to look at twice, so it’s the perfect cover.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Trent was already moving. He didn’t say another word or wait for a reaction, clarification, or protest. He just reached for his abandoned drink, lifted it, and downed the entire thing in one long swallow.
After he’d set the empty glass down on the desk, he turned and walked out of the room like he’d simply checked get roped into Westwood drama off his list of things to do for the night.
I watched him march his giant ass out of the room, and I was catching up to him halfway down the hall before I’d even given my feet the conscious command to move.
“Trent,” I hissed, grabbing the banister as I hurried after him. “Hey. Stop. Why are you doing this?”
He paused on the landing with one hand on the rail, his shoulders lifting with a quiet breath before he turned to face me. “This fake-dating thing will help me out too.”
My eyebrows shot up. “How?”
He shrugged. “My parents throw a big party every Labor Day weekend. It’s a huge thing.
Old neighbors, other ranches, and investors.
People I want to make connections with. Showing up with a good woman on my arm makes me look a little more…
” His gaze skimmed over me, slow and assessing, but not inappropriate.
Just enough to make my stomach flip. “Settled.”
I stared up at him. “So you want me to do what, play arm candy?”
“I wouldn’t have put it like that.” His mouth pulled into a crooked smile. “But yeah. Basically.”
“I don’t even know you,” I whispered, incredulous.
“You know enough.”
“That is not comforting.”
He huffed out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, you get away from Gregory and your dad. I get to keep a promise to my folks that I’d be there and maybe land a few business connections. It’s a win-win, but it’s up to you.”
I opened my mouth to argue and he must’ve seen it coming because he leaned in slightly. “Why’d your friend Stella get so excited when she assumed I have horses?”
Heat bloomed across my cheeks. “That’s not relevant.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, studying me with that maddeningly calm expression in his eyes. “You’re secretly a horse girl, aren’t you?”
My eyes narrowed into a glare. “It’s called an equestrian.”
The corner of his mouth lifted just slightly, like he was trying not to smile but losing the battle. “Right. My mistake.”
I folded my arms. This guy was infuriating. And hot. And a whole bunch of other things, but right now, I was going to settle for infuriating. “For your information, I wasn’t allowed to have my own horse. Dad said it was too much work.”
“Shame,” he murmured. “I’ve got plenty.”
Of course, he does. His family owns the biggest fucking ranch in the world. Okay, maybe just in Texas. Or Dallas. I don’t know, but it’s big.
I exhaled, staring at the polished banister instead of his annoyingly handsome face.
“Fine,” I said finally. “I’ll go to Texas with you, but just until after the party or Alex figures out how to get me out of this match with Gregory. Whichever comes first. That’s it.”
“That’s all I’m offering,” he said. Then he held out his hand.
It felt like a dare, but I only hesitated for a second before sliding my hand into his. The warmth of him struck me first, then the roughness of his palm and the strength in his fingers closing around mine.
His was nothing like the smooth, manicured hands of the businessmen my father introduced me to. Nothing like Gregory’s clammy, eager grip.
This was different, solid in a way that was downright dangerous. All the while, his eyes held mine, pinning me in place without even trying. “Do we have a deal?”
“We have a deal,” I practically whispered, not letting go nearly as fast as I probably should have.