Chapter 18
TRENT
I’d spent a good five minutes last night standing just inside my bedroom door like an idiot. My hand had been on the knob, my heart in my throat, my mind doing laps around the same damn thought.
Should I go talk to her? Should I knock?
I knew she’d been upset. Hell, I knew she had questions and I didn’t blame her.
Savannah had blindsided both of us, but mostly—and this was where it got complicated—mostly, I just hadn’t wanted Charlotte going to bed thinking I still had feelings for a woman who hadn’t been part of my life for a decade.
Because I didn’t. Not even a little. But I’d stood there, staring at the closed door until, when I’d finally opened it, the light underneath hers had disappeared. Just like that, I’d missed my shot. So I’d let it go, told myself it was for the best, and climbed into bed.
Didn’t sleep worth a damn, though.
Now, however, I was in my home office with a mug of the best coffee in the world, taking a video call from Alex and acting like I hadn’t just spent the night tossing and turning because of his sister.
His face popped up on the screen, looking way too polished for someone who claimed to be drowning in work.
“Hey, man.” He leaned over to prop his phone up against something. “I have an update on shipping timelines for you.”
“Yeah?” I guess we’re going to start with business today, even if it’s only padding for the real topic. “I’m making headway with livestock partners, but let’s talk timelines first.”
Alex nodded and jumped right in. I gave him my news, and finally, he sat back in his fancy, probably ergonomic or some bullshit chair, and cut to the chase. “How’s our little scheme going down there?”
I rubbed a palm over my jaw. “Shockingly well, if you can believe it.”
“Shockingly?” he echoed. “What’s so shocking about it?”
“We’ve already got invitations to dinners, clubs, and every fancy social circle my mom’s never been kicked out of. At this point, I can’t really believe how easily people are believing it and how completely they’re buying into the sham.”
“Thank God.” Alex laughed, but it faded fast. “How’s Charlotte doing with everything?”
I hesitated, but only for a second. “She’s perfect for the role. Even if it’s fake. How about you? Any progress yet?”
His mouth tightened into a hard line. “Things aren’t going as smoothly on my end.”
No surprise there. “What’s Gregory doing now?” I asked.
“It’s not him.” Alex sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s my dad. He’s hellbent on this match. More so than I realized.”
My stomach dropped. “How set is he really, Alex?”
“He’s already met with the estate lawyers. That set. They’re prepping all the paperwork as we speak. If she marries Gregory, she’ll get access to the trust our grandfather set up.”
I sat up straighter. “The Westwood grandfather?”
“That’s the one,” he confirmed.
“Damn.”
That trust fund was the stuff of whispered legend, an old-money war chest large enough to buy half of Chicago.
Alex rubbed a hand over his face. “Gregory’s been circling, following up after the meetings with the lawyers and hammering out terms. Dad is eating it up, taking it as a sign of his devotion and dedication to the arrangement. ”
I let out a low whistle. “He’s really that set on pushing her into this?”
“Oh yeah. He thinks Charlotte marrying Gregory is the best thing since sliced bread. It’s good for the family optics, business consolidation, and her finally accessing her trust only when she’s settled.”
I leaned back in the armchair by the window, my ankle crossed over my knee and my phone propped against it. “If she marries him, she gets access to her inheritance?”
Alex nodded. “Yep. That’s the way our grandfather set it up before he died. It’s the same structure the rest of us have.”
I’d known bits of that, but hearing it spelled out made a cold chill settle behind my ribs. This was a similar setup to what the other Westwood brothers had gone through, get married, unlock the trust, and climb a few notches in the family business.
There was a system to it, a strategy. It was damn clinical, but at least they’d each benefited from it in one way or another. Charlotte, on the other hand, had been completely sidelined business-wise.
It seemed to me that she’d always been on the periphery, present but not included. Suddenly, I found myself wondering why. She was smart as hell, yet as far as I knew, she’d never shown even a flicker of interest in working with them.
Except now, after spending real time with her, I kind of got it. Numbers, financial portfolios, and business expansions just weren’t her. From what I’d seen, she was more like Sadie, listening to her heart first, tender where the rest of us were steel.
Like my sister, Charlotte would probably give away her entire inheritance just to make someone else’s life easier. And if she married Gregory?
“Let me guess,” I said. “He gets access to her wealth as soon as they sign on the dotted line.”
“Bingo,” Alex muttered. “To be honest, he’s not even pretending it’s about anything else. That’s why we need to stop it before it gains traction. I don’t know exactly how far Gregory and Dad have gotten, but I don’t like the direction this is going in at all.”
I exhaled slowly, my protective instincts kicking in so hard, it unsettled me. “So, what? If she signs that contract, he drains her dry and rides off with her money?”
“That’s the working theory,” Alex said. “While he’s at it, he’ll treat her like an accessory the entire time.”
My pulse thudded a low, angry beat beneath my skin. Over my dead damn body.
As soon as the call ended, I shoved my phone into my back pocket and pushed off the armchair, fully intending on taking Charlotte around the ranch to distract myself from how badly I wanted to throttle her father.
She’d been curious about everything so far, her eyes wide whenever we ventured out there, just soaking it all in.
Showing her the place would keep her close—and stop me from calling up the pilot and getting arrested for assault in Chicago.
I headed downstairs, already picturing her with that oversized T-shirt she slept in drowning her frame and her hair twisted up into a messy halo, but a flash of white in the kitchen stopped me cold.
A note sat in the center of the counter, and when I picked it up, I sighed.
Trent,
Your mom picked me up. Hanging out with my favorite Shepard today.
—C
I stared at the loop of her initial longer than any sane person would. My mom had picked her up and Charlotte had gone willingly. Of course.
My mother adored her and Charlotte clearly gravitated toward people who loved loudly and easily. Claira Shepard absolutely did that, regardless of what some people might’ve thought after all that nastiness with Sadie before she and Jameson had made it official.
Back then, even I’d eventually started thinking about my mother as a shallow, pushy socialite who was completely out of touch. Buckling under pressure from my dad, she’d agreed to cut my sister off and had tried to push her into marrying a complete dick.
In my parents’ defense, Sadie’s spending had gotten way out control, not just generous but ruinous. If they hadn’t done anything and she’d gained access to all her trust funds, she would’ve burned through everything she had within a few years.
Mom, Sadie, and I had since made up. Dad was happy with her marriage to Jameson, but I knew he was still worried.
As for Charlotte, I folded the note once, then again, and then slid it into my pocket before I could think too hard about why.
Work. I need work.
I made the rounds, checking water lines, feed levels, the southern fence, and the equipment shed. Routine usually centered me, but today, every damn task put her right back in my head.
But mostly, I got stuck on that one thought.
Me being too stupid and too slow to cross the hall. My jaw clenched.
I wasn’t like this. I’d always been a man of control. No vices. No slips. I didn’t chase highs or impulses. That discipline had helped me build the ranch into something real. It’d kept my life clean, predictable, and safe after that whole mess with Savannah, but it’d also kept me alone.
I’d never even made a list of what I wanted in a relationship. That chapter with my ex had closed so hard, it’d sealed the door shut on romance for me and I’d never opened it again, but even the ghost of Savannah didn’t stand a chance against thoughts of Charlotte today.
Every time her face flashed in my mind, it pushed the old hurt further and further away until there was nothing left but her. Trying to fight it was starting to feel like a losing battle.
By midday, my agitation was so obvious that Colby flagged me down near the barn. “Boss, you’re stomping around like a bull with a burr in its butt. Take a breather before you snap a fence post in half.”
I gripped the handle of the gate beside me and felt the metal dig into my palm. He wasn’t wrong.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “I hear you.”
But taking a breather wouldn’t fix the problem. Because the fucking problem was living in my house, sleeping in a room right across the hall from mine, and for now, there wasn’t a dang thing I could do to change it.