by Naima Simone
Her father moved to stand beside her mother, and his impenetrable expression would’ve made the Sphinx cry in envy. Reagan’s nerves returned in a flood, streaming through her so they drowned out the words that hovered on her tongue.
Jesus, she was a grown woman. Why did her father’s approval still mean so much to her?
Because it’s been so long since you experienced it.
So true. In ten years, she’d tasted disappointment, glimpsed censure, felt his frustration. But it’d been so very long since his eyes had lit up with pride. A part of her—that sixteen-year-old who’d once been a daddy’s girl—still hungered for it.
Maybe Ezekiel sensed the torrent of emotion swirling inside her. Or maybe he was just a supreme actor. Either way, he shifted his hand from her back and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her farther into his side, tucking her against his larger frame. Like a shelter.
One she accepted.
If only for a few moments.
“Douglas, Henrietta, as you know, Reagan and I have been friends for years. Since we were younger,” Ezekiel said, his deep voice vibrating through her, setting off sparks that were wholly inappropriate. “In the last couple of months, we’ve rekindled that friendship and have become even closer. I’ve spoken to her, because it is ultimately her decision, but I also wanted to obtain your blessing to marry your daughter.”
Silence reigned in the room, deafening and thick. Reagan forced herself not to fidget under the weight of her father’s stare and her mother’s wide-eyed astonishment.
“Well, I—” Henrietta glanced from the both of them to her father, then back to them. “I have to admit, I was expecting you to tell us you two were dating, not...” She trailed off. Blinked.
“I know it seems quick, Mom,” Reagan said, stunned at the evenness of her tone. When inside her chest twisted a jumble of emotion—trepidation, fear...uncertainty. “But considering how long Zeke and I have known each other, not really. We just fell for one another, and it felt right.”
Good God, how the lies just rolled off her tongue. She was going to hell with a scarlet L for Liar emblazoned across her breasts.
“Is that so?” her father asked, finally speaking. “Then why is this the first time we’ve heard of this...relationship?”
Reagan hiked her chin up, straightening her shoulders and shifting out from under Ezekiel’s arm to meet her father’s narrowed gaze. This was their vicious cycle. His censure. Her hurt. Her defiance. Next, their mother would step in to soothe and arbitrate.
“Because we decided to keep it to ourselves until we were ready to share our personal business with everyone else. The only thing faster than Royal’s gossip grapevine is the speed of light. We wanted to make sure what we had was solid and real before opening ourselves up for the scrutiny that comes from just being a member of the Wingate family and a Sinclair. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Speaking of that,” Douglas added, his attention swinging to Ezekiel. His expression hardened. “With all that Wingate Enterprises is embroiled in right now, you didn’t consider how that might affect Reagan?”
“Dad—”
“Of course I did, Douglas,” Ezekiel cut in, his tone like flint. “I would never want to expose her to any backlash or disrespect. Believe me, I’ve suffered enough, and I don’t want to subject her to that. Protecting her is my priority. But if my own past and this situation has taught me anything, it’s that life is too short and love too precious to allow things such as opinions and unfavorable press to determine how we live. Then there’s the fact that we are innocent, even if the court of public opinion has judged us. Family, our true friends and members of the Cattleman’s Club believe in and support us. And they will support and protect Reagan as well. As a member yourself, you understand the power and strength of that influence.”
Her father didn’t immediately reply, but he continued to silently study Ezekiel.
“And I believe the Wingates are innocent as well, Dad,” Reagan said. “We’ve known them for years, and they’ve always proven themselves to be upstanding, good people. The incidents of the last few weeks shouldn’t change that.” She inhaled a breath, reaching for Ezekiel’s hand, but before she could wrap her fingers around his, he was already entwining them together. “He’s a good man. An honorable one. I wouldn’t choose a man who didn’t deserve my heart and your trust.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she flinched. Wished she could snatch them back. But they were already out there, and from the twist of her father’s lips, and the lowering of her mother’s lashes, hiding her gaze, she could read their thoughts.
The last one you chose was a real winner, wasn’t he? Got you pregnant, then abandoned you.
We don’t trust your judgment, much less your capability of picking a worthy man.
Fury flared bright and hot inside her. And underneath? Underneath lurked the aged but still pulsing wounds of hurt and humiliation. I’m not that girl anymore. When will you stop penalizing me for my mistakes? When will you love me again?
“And this sudden decision to marry wouldn’t have anything to do with your grandmother’s will?” her father retorted with a bite of sarcasm.
Hypocrite. Her fingers involuntarily tightened around Ezekiel’s. How did he dare to ask her that when he’d been throwing random man after man in front of her to marry her off? The only difference now was that she’d found Ezekiel instead of her father cherry-picking him.
“Dad, I don’t need—”
“Excuse me, Douglas,” Ezekiel interjected, his grip on her gentle but firm. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you about your daughter. She’s not just beautiful, but kind, selfless, sensitive, whip smart, so sensitive that at times I want to wrap her up and hide her away so more unscrupulous people can’t take advantage of her tender heart. That’s who I want to be for her. A protector. Her champion. And her husband.”
It’s fake. It’s all for the pretense, she reminded herself as she stared up at Ezekiel, blinking. And yet...no one had ever spoken up for her, much less about her, so eloquently and beautifully. In this small instant, she almost believed him.
Almost believed those things of herself.
“I don’t appreciate you cutting me off, but for that, I’ll make an exception and like it,” she whispered.
Again, that half smile lifted a corner of his mouth, and when he shifted that gaze down to her, she tingled. Her skin. The blood in her veins.
The sex between her legs.
No. Nononono. Her brain sent a Mayday signal to her flesh.
“I don’t know if I deserve Reagan, but I will do everything in my power to try,” Ezekiel said, squeezing her fingers.
Affection brightened his eyes, and it wasn’t feigned for her parents’ benefit; she knew that. He did like her. “I know you have doubts, and I can’t blame you for them. But not about how I will care for your daughter.”
Her father stared at Ezekiel in silence, and he met Douglas’s stare without flinching or lowering his gaze. Not many men could do that. And she caught the glint of begrudging respect in her father’s eyes.
“You have our blessing,” Douglas finally said. He extended his hand toward Ezekiel.
And as the two men clasped hands, her mother beamed.
“Well, thank God that’s out of the way. Goodness, Douglas, that was so dramatic,” Henrietta tsked, moving forward to envelop Reagan in her arms. The familiar scent of Yves Saint Laurent Black Opium embraced her as well, and for a moment, Reagan closed her eyes and breathed in the hints of vanilla, jasmine and orange blossom. Pulling back, Henrietta smiled at Reagan. “Congratulations, honey.”
“Thanks, Mom,” she murmured, guilt a hard kernel lodged behind her breastbone.
“Have you two thought about a date yet?” her mother asked, and Reagan swore she could glimpse the swirl of wedding dresses, flowers
and invitations floating above her head. “What about next spring? The clubhouse is usually reserved months in advance, but your father has donated enough money to this community that they would definitely fit you in. And we should probably send invitations out now...”
“Mom.” Reagan gently interrupted her mother’s full steam ahead plans with a glance at Ezekiel. “We were actually thinking of just a small affair in a couple of weeks.”
“What?” Henrietta gasped, and her horrified expression might have been comical under different circumstances. “No, no, that just won’t do. What would everyone say? Your sister had a big wedding, and so did your brother. So many people will want to attend, and they need advance notice. I won’t have my daughter involved in some shotgun wedding as if she’s—” Her voice snapped off like a broken twig, her eyes widening as suspicion and shock darkened them. “Reagan, are you... You can’t be...”
“No,” Reagan breathed. “No, Mom, I’m not pregnant.”
And as relief lightened Henrietta’s eyes, anger washed through Reagan. Despair swept under it like an undertow. When would she stop being the sum of her mistakes with her parents?
“Well, then, what’s the rush?” her father asked, his head tilting to the side, studying her. There was a shrewdness there that she refused to fidget under as if he’d just caught her sneaking in after curfew.
“We want to begin our lives together,” she replied. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“A wedding in two weeks is...unseemly,” her mother complained, shaking her head, her mouth pursed in a distasteful moue. “Six months. That’s not too much time to ask. It’s still short notice, but we can plan a beautiful winter wedding befitting my oldest daughter and have it right here on the estate. It’ll be perfect.” She clapped in delight.
God, this wasn’t going how she’d expected at all. If it were up to Reagan, she would hightail it to the Royal courthouse, sign the marriage license and have a bored judge legally tie them together. It seemed more fitting to this situation. Definitely more honest.
Weddings with arches made of roses and the finest crystal and favors in the shapes of rings and a towering cake—those were for couples who were truly in love. Who looked forward to a life together filled with devotion, family and golden years together.
Weddings weren’t for people who had based their temporary union on desperation, pity and money. Who looked forward to a year from now when they could be free of obligation and each other.
Besides, this wasn’t fair to Ezekiel. He hadn’t signed up for all of this. Hell, she wasn’t even his wife yet, and her parents were acting like interfering in-laws. Waiting six months to marry would only extend their agreed-upon timeline. He’d only counted on auctioning away a year of his life, not a year and a half, possibly two.
She shook her head. No, she wouldn’t do this to him. It was one thing to allow her parents to pressure her, but another to subject Ezekiel to it.
But before she could tell them that the modest, small ceremony was their final decision, Ezekiel released her hand and looped an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her temple. Her belly clenched. Hard. Just a simple touch of his lips and desire curled inside her, knotting into something needy, achy. Stunned by her body’s reaction, she froze, a deer with its hoof suspended over the steel teeth of a trap.
“I don’t want to rob Reagan of having this experience with you, so if it’s okay with her, we can wait six months,” Ezekiel said. “I don’t want her to look back years from now and regret anything. Her wedding day should be special.”
How many times could a woman be struck speechless in the matter of minutes? Countless, it seemed.
“Zeke,” she finally murmured, tilting her head back. “You don’t have to do that...”
“It’s no trouble,” he replied softly. “Not for you.”
She heard his gentle assertion, but she read the truth in his eyes. Don’t rock the boat. Don’t cause—what had been his word?—trouble. Go along to get along. That had been her mantra since she was sixteen. While before it had worked for her, now? Now it felt...wrong.
“Stop worrying, sweetheart. It’s fine. I’m fine.” The low, barely-there whisper reached her ears, and with a jolt, she opened her eyes, only then realizing that she’d closed them.
She searched his face, seeking out any signs of his frustration, his disappointment, his pity. God, which would be more like a dagger sliding into her chest? Each would hurt for different reasons. No matter how many times she glimpsed them in her family’s eyes, they still pierced her.
But only understanding gleamed in his gaze. Understanding and a resolve that both confused and assured her.
For now, she’d concentrate on the assurance. Because if she permitted herself to become any more curious about Ezekiel Holloway—or worse, give in to the urge to figure him out—she might never be able to back away from that crumbling, precarious ledge.
“Okay,” she whispered back.
“Wonderful,” her mother crowed with another delighted clap of her hands. “We’ll start planning right away. And we’ll start with a date. How about...”
Her mother continued chatting as they all headed toward the formal dining room for dinner, but Reagan only listened with half an ear.
Most of her focus centered on the palm settled at the base of her spine and currently burning a hole through her dress.
The rest of it? It’d been hijacked by all the thoughts spinning through her head like a cyclone. And foremost in those thoughts loomed one prominent question...
What the hell have you just done?
Six
Ezekiel glanced at his dashboard as he shifted into Park.
9:21 p.m.
Late, but as he pushed open his car door and stepped out into Wingate Enterprises’s parking lot, he knew Luke would still be in his office. Ever since the shit had hit the fan with the fire at WinJet, the resulting lawsuits, bad press and plunge in business, his older brother had been damn near killing himself to create new areas of investment, including new hotels and the best corporate jet. As vice president of new product development, he seemed to view saving the company and jobs of their over two hundred employees as his white whale.
Ezekiel worried about him.
Usually, the roles were reversed. When their parents died, Luke had been the one to look out for Ezekiel, to care for him even though he’d only been twenty-one and grieving himself. And when Ezekiel had lost Melissa, Luke hadn’t left his side, even moving a small couch into his younger brother’s room to make sure if Ezekiel needed him, Luke would be right there.
So yes, Ezekiel was used to being the one on the receiving end of the concern. But now, every time he passed by his brother’s room at the house and his bed remained unslept in, that apprehension dug deeper, sprouting roots. Being a creative genius had its pros and cons. Luke could come up with amazing ideas and projects. But he could also become obsessive over them, everything else—including his welfare—relegated to the it’ll-take-care-of-itself class.
Ezekiel trekked across the lot, approaching the six-story building that sat right outside of Royal in a large industrial park. The unassuming, almost bland exterior of the structure didn’t scream family empire, but inside... He pulled free his wallet and waved his badge across the sensor beside the door, then entered. Inside, the modern, sleek and masterfully designed interior projected wealth, professionalism and power. Aunt Ava had chosen every painting, every piece of furniture and fixture herself. Anyone walking into this building could never doubt the success of those inside its glass walls.
Striding across the empty lobby, he took the elevator to the sixth floor. As soon as the doors slid open, he headed directly for his brother’s office. Unsurprisingly, he noted that Kelly Prentiss, Luke’s executive assistant of five years, sat at her desk, even at this late hour. Dedicated to his brother, she ensured he ate and took
at least minimal care of himself when no one else could.
“Hey, Zeke,” she greeted, smiling at him, warmth brightening her green eyes. The redheaded beauty still looked composed and fresh as if it were after nine in the morning instead of at night. “You know where he’s at.” She nodded her head toward the partially closed door adjacent to her desk.
“How’s he doing?” he murmured, aware his brother had the hearing of a bat and wouldn’t appreciate them talking about him behind his back. But if he asked Luke the same question, the inevitable “Fine,” would tell him exactly zero.
“He’s...” She paused, narrowing her eyes in the direction of his office. “Luke. Still trying to shoulder all of this. But I’m watching over him. And I’ll make sure he gets home tonight instead of pulling another all-nighter.”
“Thanks, Kelly. I’m going in. If you hear yelling, just ignore it. That’ll just be me, wrestling him to the floor and trying to knock some sense into him. Y’know, business as usual.”
She laughed, turning back to her computer. “I hear nothing and know even less. I’m practicing my speech just in case I’m called as a witness for the defense.”
He grinned and forged ahead into the lion’s den.
Luke perched on the couch in the sitting area, papers strewn all over the glass table. A disposable coffee cup teetered too close to the edge, a takeout container next to it. He glanced up from his study of the documents long enough to pin Ezekiel with a glare.
“You have never, nor will you ever be able to take me,” he grumbled.
Ezekiel snorted. They’d both wrestled in high school and college, and though it pained him to admit it, he’d never been able to pin his brother. Of course, Luke had been in the 182 weight class, and Ezekiel had been in 170. But Luke had never let him forget his undefeated status.
Ass.
“What are you doing here?” Luke muttered, his focus returning to the work spread out before him.
Knowing he possessed a short window before he lost his brother’s attention completely, Ezekiel dropped to the armchair flanking the couch.