Chapter 30
SEBASTIAN
“You’re a good liar,” Warren says. “I’ll give you that. That whole speech in there about respecting her, about giving her space, about trying to be better, it was smooth. Practiced. But I’ve been running a ranch for forty years, Sebastian. I know when someone’s selling me a story.”
I keep my expression neutral, even as my mind races. How much does he actually know? How much is he guessing?
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to tell me what really happened.” Warren shifts his weight, adjusting his grip on the cane.
“Because my daughter doesn’t fall in love in three months and run off to marry someone she barely knows.
That’s not Lennox. So tell me what situation she was in that made marriage to you the best option. ”
The directness catches me off guard. Not an accusation. Just an assessment.
“How much has Lennox told you?”
“Nothing. She’s been tight-lipped since she got here.
But I know my daughter. I know when she’s protecting someone.
And I know the look of a woman who’s made a sacrifice she’s not sure is worth it.
” Warren’s eyes are sharp. “So I’m asking you directly, who is she protecting? And what has it cost her?”
I look at this man, a father trying to understand, a rancher who’s probably made his own difficult choices over the years. And I make a calculation.
Lies aren’t working. He’s too smart, too experienced. But the truth would put me on rocky ground. Rocky ground I can come back from. This man not letting Lennox come home with me, I couldn’t.
“Her friend, Janie, was in trouble. She owed massive debts to some very dangerous people. The kind of debt that gets paid in ways you don’t want your daughters to know about.” I pause. “Lennox found out and decided to help.”
Warren’s expression doesn’t change. “By taking the debt herself?”
“Yes.”
“And you had the resources to solve it.”
“I did. In all honesty, I saw your daughter, and I wanted her. I wasn’t chivalrous or cognizant of why she was there.
I wanted her for myself. The thought of anyone else touching her repulsed me.
With the agreement, there are conditions attached.
Legal ones. Marriage is the cleanest solution to satisfy those conditions while keeping everyone safe. ”
Warren is quiet for a long moment, studying me. “So my daughter traded herself to save Janie Turner. That tracks. That’s exactly the kind of thing Lennox would do.” He shifts his cane to his other hand. “And you? What did you get out of this arrangement?”
“A wife. For two years. After that, she’s free and gets a substantial settlement.”
“Two years.” Warren’s voice is flat. “You bought my daughter’s time.”
“Essentially, yes. But that’s not why she came back here.
My father accused her of being an informant for a rival I’ve been having issues with.
” I run my hand through my hair and take a deep breath.
“When he accused her, I didn’t argue, I just looked at her with the same questions.
Whatever we’d been building, I destroyed because I didn’t stand up for the woman I’m married to. ”
I expect anger. I expect him to tell me to get off his property. Instead, Warren just nods slowly.
“I appreciate the honesty. Most men in your position would’ve kept lying.” He turns toward the barn. “Walk with me.”
I follow him inside, watching him navigate the uneven ground with practiced ease. He moves to a stall where a gray mare waits, and starts running his hand down her neck with his good hand.
“You know what it’s like,” he says quietly. “Running a family operation. Having people depend on you. Having to make choices that aren’t clean but are necessary.”
I nod, waiting to see where this is going.
“Then you know that sometimes you do things to protect your people. Things that look bad from the outside. Things that cross lines.” Warren keeps his eyes on the horse.
“The Briggs family has been ranching in Montana for five generations. We’ve built something that’s managed to survive.
And we’ve done what needed to be done to protect it. ”
The words hang in the air, weighted with meaning.
“We’re not angels, Sebastian. We’ve dealt with threats to our operation in ways that would land me in prison far past the years I have left.
We’ve protected our own when they’ve gotten into trouble.
We’ve made sure problems disappeared before they could destroy what we’ve built.
” He finally looks at me. “So I understand what it means to operate in the gray areas. To do questionable things for the right reasons.”
“You’re saying you understand why I did this?”
“I’m saying I understand that powerful families do what they have to do to survive.
That protection sometimes looks like control.
That solving problems often requires methods that aren’t pretty.
” Warren shifts his weight. “What I don’t understand is whether you’re treating my daughter like family you’re protecting or like property you own. There’s a difference.”
“I’m trying to treat her like family.”
“Trying isn’t the same as doing.”
“No, sir. But it’s better than not trying at all.” I move closer. “I know how this started. I know what the contract says. But I’m working on making it into something more than just a transaction. On seeing her as a partner instead of what I paid for.”
Warren studies me for a long moment. “What happens in two years? She gets her freedom and her settlement?”
“If that’s what she wants, yes.”
“And if she wants to leave now?”
This is the moment. The test.
“I’d let her go,” I say quietly. “I told her that before she came here. The contract exists, but I won’t enforce it if she decides she can’t do this. She’s free to leave whenever she wants.”
“Why?” Warren’s voice is sharp. “You’ve got her legally bound. Why give that up?”
“Because forcing her to stay would make me exactly what you’re afraid I am.
And I want to be better than that.” I pause.
“My father built his empire by treating people like assets. My grandfather, his father before that, did the same. That’s how I was raised.
But Lennox is teaching me there’s another way.
And I’m trying to learn it before I destroy whatever chance we have. ”
Warren nods slowly. “Your father. Walker Drake. I’ve heard stories. Man who runs his operation with an iron fist. Who doesn’t take no for an answer. Who treats family business like war.”
“That’s an accurate assessment.”
“And you’re trying to be different?”
“Yes, sir. With mixed success.”
Warren almost smiles. He turns back to the horse. “You know what Lennox’s mother told me? Before she left?”
“No, sir.”
“She said the measure of a man isn’t what he does when it’s easy. It’s what he does when he has all the power and chooses not to use it.” Warren’s voice is rough. “You’ve got power over my daughter. Legal power, financial power. The question is whether you’re man enough to choose not to use it.”
“I’m trying to be.”
“Good.” Warren moves toward the barn door, his gait slow but steady.
“Now here’s what’s going to happen. You’re staying in the guest room tonight.
And before you take my daughter back to Texas, you’re going to work this ranch.
Show me you understand the work that built her into who she is.
Show me you respect where she comes from. ”
“Sir?”
“That’s the deal. You want my blessing, however late, you earn it. At 6 a.m., we start morning chores. You keep up, you prove you’re not useless, you get to take Lennox back to Texas. You don’t, and we have a different conversation.”
It is a test. An old-fashioned way of measuring a man’s character.
“I’ll be ready at six,” I say.
“Good.” Warren starts back toward the house.
“And Sebastian? I meant what I said. The Briggs family understands that doing what needs to be done is what matters. We’ve made our own difficult choices over the years.
So I’m not judging you for the situation.
I’m judging you for how you handle it now.
How you treat my daughter. Whether you choose to be the man who owns her or the man who loves her. ”
“Understood, sir.”
“I hope so. Because if you choose wrong, if I find out you’re hurting her, it won’t be lawyers or courts you deal with.
It’ll be me. And I might move slower than I used to, but I’m still more than capable of protecting my own, and I’ve got nothing left to lose.
” The threat is real. And somehow more intimidating coming from a man who has to use a cane.
“I believe you, sir.”
“Good. Now let’s get back before dinner gets cold.”
Dinner is easier than I expected.
Grace has made a stew that would rival anything my California chefs produce. The family gathers around a table that has clearly hosted meals for decades, and the conversation flows more naturally than before.
“So, Sebastian,” Emma says, passing the rolls, “what do you think of Montana?”
“It’s beautiful. Different from Texas. I can see why Lennox loves it here.”
“Different how?” Cole asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.
“Terrain, mostly. Texas is flatter, hotter. Montana’s got the mountains, the harder winters. Changes how you run operations.” I take a bite of the stew. “But the fundamentals are the same. Land, cattle, family legacy.”
“Dad says you’re working the ranch tomorrow,” Cage says.
“That’s the plan.”
“Most city folks don’t make it past lunch.” But he’s smiling slightly. “You think you can keep up?”
“I grew up working on my family’s ranch and have been there more lately since my brother’s wife died. I’ve been running the place. I can keep up.”
“We’ll see.” Warren’s tone is challenging but not hostile. “Six a.m. comes early.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Under the table, Lennox’s hand finds mine. She squeezes once, relief maybe, that her father isn’t actively trying to kill me.
After dinner, I help clear plates despite protests. Lennox and I end up alone in the kitchen while her family cleans up the dining room.
“What did my father say to you?” she asks quietly, washing a dish.
“He figured some things out. About why you married me.”
Her hands still in the soapy water. “How much does he know?”
“I told him everything. Well, I omitted the word auction, but everything else.” I move beside her, drying the dish she hands me. “He also told me the Briggs family isn’t exactly squeaky clean. That they’ve done what needed to be done to protect their operation over the years.”
“He told you that?”
“Yeah. I think he’s trying to say he understands operating in moral gray areas. That he’s not judging the situation itself, just how I’m handling it.”
Lennox is quiet for a moment. “My family, we’ve always taken care of our own. Sometimes that means bending rules. Sometimes it means dealing with problems in ways that wouldn’t look good in the light of day. Dad’s just being honest about that.”
“Does it help? Knowing your father understands?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She hands me another dish. “What else did he say?”
“He asked about the contract. And I told him the truth, that if you want to leave, I won’t stop you. That the contract doesn’t matter if you decide you can’t do this.”
Tears fill her eyes. “You keep saying that.”
“Because I mean it. I’d rather you choose to stay than force you. Even if that means losing you. But I want you to stay,” I say quietly.
“Lennox.” Warren’s voice from the doorway. “Can I talk to you? Alone?”
She looks at me, uncertainty in her eyes.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Go talk to him.”
“The guest room is on the second floor, third door on the left,” Warren says to me. “Your bag’s already there.”
“Dad, Sebastian is my husband. He’s staying in my room.”
“This is my house, my rules.” Warren’s tone isn’t harsh; it’s just firm. “You two are still figuring things out. For tonight, he’s in the guest room. Tomorrow, after he proves himself, we’ll talk about the rest.”
I see Lennox about to argue, so I pull her close, whisper in her ear, “It’s fine. One more night won’t kill me.” I kiss her temple. “Let him have this.”
She huffs but nods, following her father out of the kitchen.
I head upstairs to the guest room, already mentally preparing for the test that will come with the sunrise.
Tomorrow I’ll prove I can work a ranch. Tonight, I just hope Warren’s conversation with Lennox doesn’t convince her to stay in Montana permanently.
Because the thought of going back to Texas without her makes my chest tight.