Trust Fund Fiancé (Texas Cattleman's Club: Rags to Riches 4)

He crossed one leg over the other and propped his elbows on the chair’s arms, templing his fingers under his chin. That sense of foreboding increased. She and her siblings deemed this position his Thinking Man pose. Which usually meant he was about to lecture one of them or deliver an edict they probably wouldn’t like.

“Reagan, I initially went along with this sudden relationship with Ezekiel Holloway and gave you my blessing for the engagement, but now I have concerns,” her father said.

“About?” she pressed when he didn’t immediately continue.

Her heart thudded against her chest, and she forced herself to remain composed. Douglas Sinclair despised theatrics. And the last thing she could afford was for him to accuse her of being too emotional to make an informed decision.

“The Wingate name used to be spotless and above reproach in not just Royal, but Texas. But now, with this scandal about dirty dealings at the jet plants, employee lawsuits and now drugs, for God’s sake, I believe it’s been dirtied beyond repair.”

“Miles Wingate proved that the family wasn’t responsible for the falsified inspection reports. Which makes me doubt everything else about the drugs,” she argued. “You’ve known the Wingate family longer than I have, Dad. You have to know they couldn’t be capable of trafficking or anything as reprehensible as that.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort,” he disagreed. “People are not always who they appear to be. And while Trent Wingate might’ve been a trustworthy man, I cannot vouch for his family. Not personally.” He lowered his arms and leaned forward, pinning her with a steady stare. “Besides, in the eyes of the public, they are guilty. Their reputation sullied. I don’t believe it is wise to connect your name—or this family’s name—with theirs at this time.”

Her stomach bottomed out. She’d suspected this was where he’d been heading. But hearing him state it...

“James Harris, the president of the Cattleman’s Club, as well as other TCC members all support the Wingates. They’re not worried about their reputations being ‘sullied,’” she said, imbuing her tone with her dislike over his elitist word choice. Hadn’t she assured Ezekiel weeks ago that her father might be conservative but not arrogant or self-important? She shook her head.

“Maybe you’re too blinded by your...affection for Ezekiel,” Douglas continued. “But I think the right decision for not just you, but this family would be to break off this engagement. After all, how would it look if my firm was associated with people being investigated by the DEA for criminal behavior?” His mouth curled in distaste, eyes narrowing on her. “This doesn’t only affect you. Your mother is also receiving the cold shoulder from some members of this commun

ity because her daughter is marrying into that family.”

“That family?” she repeated, giving a short, harsh chuckle. Although she found nothing humorous about this conversation. “God, Dad, that family has been here in Royal for generations. They’ve done an immense amount of good for not just this community but outside the city with their philanthropic efforts. They’re good people. And because of an accusation, of a rough period they’re suffering through, you would abandon them?”

She huffed out a breath. “Before Ezekiel was my fiancé, he was my friend. Harley was my best friend. I refuse to just throw them away because people who indulge in rampant speculation rather than fact have nothing better to do than sit in judgment. I won’t be one of them.”

“You have no choice,” he announced, tone flat and brooking no argument. “Your grandmother’s will stipulates that you will receive your inheritance if you marry a suitable man. I determine the definition of suitable. And Ezekiel Holloway is not it. If you go through with this marriage, I won’t release one penny to you until you’re thirty. And don’t try to convince me that the inheritance isn’t the reason for this shotgun marriage. I went along with it at first, but no longer.”

Fury blazed through her, and as she rose, her body trembled with it. Only respect bridled her tongue when she wanted to lash out at the father she loved. Since she didn’t trust herself to speak, she pivoted and strode out of the room.

“You will end the engagement, Reagan,” her father declared from behind her.

She didn’t bother to turn around or glance over her shoulder at him as she pulled the front door open and walked out of her home.

Ezekiel buttoned the cuff of his shirt, frowning as he crossed the foyer of his guesthouse to answer the knock at the door. That had to be Reagan. He’d received her terse text about being on her way, but not only was she fifteen minutes early, they’d agreed yesterday that he was supposed to pick her up from her house. He hadn’t needed to hear her voice to guess that something was wrong.

In seconds, he opened the door and his suspicions were confirmed. Though she was as lovely as ever in a pair of light green, wide-legged trousers and a white camisole, her customary smile didn’t light up her face. Instead, her lush mouth formed a straight, serious line and shadows dimmed her pretty eyes. Unease slicked a path through him, and he stepped back, silently inviting her inside.

“What’s wrong, Reagan?” he asked, closing the door behind her.

She whirled around, facing him, and thankfully didn’t make him wait. “My father ambushed me when I arrived home.” Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “He’s rescinded his approval of our marriage. Apparently, it wouldn’t be good for his reputation or business. God.” She thrust her fingers through her dark waves and paced across the foyer, her strides fairly vibrating with her anger. Pausing in front of a painting depicting the Wingate estate, she stared at it for several long moments. But he doubted she was really seeing it. “I’m sorry, Zeke,” she whispered. “I’m so angry. And ashamed.”

“Ray, look at me,” he quietly ordered. When she slowly spun around, he studied her gorgeous features, noting the conflict in her eyes, the sad downturn of her mouth. The slight slump of her shoulders. “Your father’s not wrong.”

Fire flashed in her gaze, replacing the distress. The breath snagged in his chest at the sight. Dammit, she was beautiful, and that passion only enhanced it.

Still... He couldn’t blame Douglas. In the weeks since he’d visited the older man’s home asking for his blessing, Wingate Enterprises had started to free-fall. In the wake of this latest scandal, stocks had plummeted, most of their jet contracts had been canceled and there had even been some boycotting of their hotels. They’d had to start laying off staff. With company assets frozen by the DEA, they couldn’t even liquidate their holdings to plug up the worst of the bleeding.

So no, Douglas had the right to be concerned about his daughter marrying a man who might not even be able to provide for her. Whose name could bring her more harm than good.

“Of course he’s wrong,” she snapped. “And I would never abandon you just because of gossip and innuendo. What kind of person would that make me? What kind of friend would that make me?”

A smart one. Instead of voicing that opinion, he slid his hands into the front pockets of his pants and murmured, “You never did tell me what you needed your inheritance for, Ray. To go to such extreme measures like agreeing to marry me, you must have a reason, a purpose for the money.”

Her expression smoothed, becoming the loveliest of masks. “I already told you. I want my freedom.”

“I remember,” he agreed, moving closer to her and not stopping until they stood only bare inches apart. “But over the course of the weeks we’ve spent together, I’ve also come to know a woman who wouldn’t allow something like money to keep her from grabbing that freedom. No, there’s something else.”

He paused, cocking his head to the side. “Do you think I haven’t noticed that you disappear during the day several times a week? As much as I remember the girl you used to be, the woman is still sometimes a mystery. You’re keeping secrets, Ray. And your reason for needing this money is one of them.” He slid a hand free and pinched a lock of her hair between his thumb and finger, rubbing the rough silk of it. “You can trust me with your secrets, sweetheart.”