The Tycoon

“You wanted to be married to me and you were still capable of hurting me more than any other person in my life. Do you see how diabolical that is?”

My voice cracked but I had nothing to be ashamed of. Not one thing.

“I thought I could have everything,” he said. “The way I wanted it. I was…arrogant. And selfish. Wrong.”

I didn’t know what to do with this apology. Or this level of self-awareness from him. It was disorienting.

But it didn’t change anything. He’d still hurt me. And I could still never trust him.

“What was the deal you had with my father?” I asked. “What were the terms? You marry me and…what?”

“I get the land I wanted. The acreage.”

“Twenty acres with no mineral rights? Seems to me you should have asked for a little more.”

“There was more.” He was silent, like he didn’t want to say anything. Which I found painfully hilarious.

“Oh, don’t hold back now, Clayton. Honestly, this is just getting good.”

“If we got pregnant—”

“If I got pregnant,” I snapped. I hated it when men said we when their partners were pregnant.

“If you got pregnant, there was a cash settlement, and if the baby was a boy, I got controlling stocks.”

“And you agreed to this?” I asked him and then shook my head. I knew the answer.

“You are a greedy son of bitch. And cold. So cold, Clayton, I can’t even believe it.”

I walked toward the chair where I’d put my purse. He opened his door, saying something to the assistant who sat outside his office.

A second later his assistant came in with a tray and set it down on the edge of Clayton’s desk. On the tray was a little white ceramic teapot, a teabag inside with the string hanging out. A packet of sugar. A little pitcher of milk. He was so quick, he must have had it waiting for me.

“May I?” he asked, and without my answering he made me a cup of tea. Just the way I liked it. I looked away. This was—officially—too much.

“I don’t expect you to answer me right now,” he said.

“Because you know I’ll say no.” I laughed, but even as I said it I knew that I wished I simply could say no.

It was my sisters, yes. But now that he’d made me say it out loud it was the foundation, too.

He handed me the cup and the degree to which I wanted to take it actually forced me not to.

“I’m leaving,” I said, gathering my purse, longing for a fortifying sip of that tea.

He set the tea back down on the desk.

“I’ll come out to the ranch tomorrow to discuss the details.”

“The details of…what?” I asked him.

“Our marriage.”

I laughed. Oh, I laughed so hard. “You’re not proposing marriage, Clayton. I don’t know what the hell this is, but it’s not marriage.”

10

VERONICA

When I opened the front door of the house, Thelma and Louise came running out to greet me, demanding extra pats for having been left on the ranch by themselves. I was thoroughly coated in dog fur by the time I got in the front door.

“Hello!” I yelled. “Bea? Sabrina?”

The dogs woofed at me.

I called through the house and finally ended up in the kitchen, where I found a note on the counter. From Bea.

Shit was dire if Bea was writing me notes on paper.

Don’t be mad, the note read. But I didn’t call, because I don’t want to freak you out. Or have a fight about you coming with. But I’ve gone back to Austin. Something happened at the bar and the police want to question me. EVERYTHING IS FINE! DO NOT FREAK OUT!

I immediately grabbed my phone and called her. But the call went right to her voice mail.

“Oh, my God,” I breathed. I called her again and this time left a message. “You need to call me. Now. Like, right now.”

I stared blankly into space, wondering how everything had fallen apart so fast and so…completely. A week ago, everything seemed fine and now it was literally a mess.

I texted Bea. Do you need a lawyer? Call Trina.

The answer came back immediately. I already did. Everything is okay. Can’t talk. Will call you when I can.

Was this supposed to be a relief? I wondered. Because it did not feel like a relief. It felt like if I made one sudden movement everything I had left would collapse.

How was it, the second I stepped back onto The King’s Land, everything always got worse?

Thelma put her head against my leg, like she knew.

The next morning, I woke up with a plan. Well, not a plan.

A goal. Well, not a goal.

A mindset. That worked.

I had a general mindset for how I was going to deal with Clayton.

I put on my skinny jeans and my comfortable pink-and-purple flannel shirt. I put in my contacts and brushed my hair into a high ponytail.