Entangled With The Heiress (Louisiana Legacies Book 1)

by Dani Wade

  Never. Rhett didn’t want to admit it, because it would undermine his position, but he knew where Chris was coming from. “I just think there’s more at stake here than a simple inheritance.”

  On the surface, the charity seemed like nothing compared to the overall worth of Michael’s estate. Why would the Hyatts dismantle it? Was Trinity right? Were they looking for fast cash?

  Besides, the charity Michael had started seemed to do a lot of good. He remembered Trinity’s story. Were the Hyatts actually heartless enough to do away with all that? “What if these people are looking to get their hands on the building and land just to sell it quick?”

  “Then that’s their prerogative. But if you’re worried about it, don’t you need more evidence than just the word of the woman you’re there to investigate?”

  True. Rhett rubbed his hand over his face. Was he losing his edge? He tried to tell himself this was about protecting a home for abused women and children—the very one he would visit tomorrow. So why did he keep seeing soft brown eyes that begged him to look deeper?

  “Just look into it from your end,” he barked.

  “All right. Though I think it’s crazy.”

  Shaking his head, Rhett quickly concluded his call with Chris but couldn’t stop the pacing. He needed to find out more about both Maison de Jardin and Michael’s aunt and uncle. Questioning Trinity was an option, but could he trust the answers he would be given? He wanted to, but having Chris dig deeper was a better way to go. And he needed to stay objective, no matter what.

  He paused inside the door to his bedroom, knowing what he had to do. It wasn’t like he hadn’t searched for information in a house before in the dead of night.

  This was no different.

  Hell, it should be a lot easier, since Trinity and he were alone in this portion of the house...right next to the wing that held the offices.

  Having made his decision, he wasted no time, utilizing stealth and speed as he made his way to the lower floor. He might find nothing. They might keep the office suite locked. He might encounter someone along the way. Cleaning staff. The butler. He’d just have to see.

  He passed the door to the little office they’d given him, using only the flashlight on his phone to show him the way. The door to the other offices was almost directly across the hall. The knob turned easily beneath his palm.

  She is too trusting.

  He wasn’t as lucky inside. Without turning on the lights, he tried the tall filing cabinets along one wall of Michael’s office. They were all locked. The computer was password protected. The cabinet on the hutch above the desk was also locked. He glanced toward the secretary’s office. Maybe he should check there?

  His heartbeat remained steady. Hands sure. But his mind raced, running through the options that might be open to him.

  What he hoped to find, he wasn’t sure. But he needed more facts than what he had. Facts, not conjectures. Or at the very least, clues as to what Michael Hyatt had been thinking. Who else would know his family and all their secrets?

  He stood, uncertain for a moment. Think...think...

  As if by divine guidance, the light from his phone caught the edge of something under the desk he hadn’t noticed before. Bending down, he realized the desk had a hanging drawer. Even as he reached for it, Rhett knew it wouldn’t be locked. Something just told him this one had been overlooked.

  Sure enough, the drawer slid soundlessly open.

  There was a small crush of tabs to peruse. Rhett quickly realized why this drawer was probably open. It held all of Michael’s personal files—Trinity and her secretary were probably accessing them a lot dealing with the legalities of Michael’s death. Health insurance. A surprisingly large medical file. Household bills. Original documents. All things Rhett found himself uncomfortably curious about.

  And there it was, all the way in the back.

  Background Investigations

  A quick glance at the top page looked like a financial accounting...and not a good one. Richard’s name appeared a time or two. Definitely a file Rhett needed to take a look at. The next one back looked just as intriguing. Maison de Jardin.

  The folder was slim, which probably meant it held something innocuous like deeds and insurance documents. Not much more. Still, it wouldn’t hurt for him to borrow them both for a few hours.

  Carefully he made sure the drawer was firmly shut, then crossed toward the door. He was only halfway there when the light from the hallway blinked on, creating a bright line beneath the door.

  Someone was coming.

  His heart rate picked up. He rushed back to the desk and dropped the folders beneath it. No time to put them away. He hurried back toward the door, so that he grabbed the handle at the same time as the person outside. But he kept plowing forward, his alibi forming in his mind already.

  Then he made contact with soft curves in all the right places.

  Instantly his body went on high alert...but not because of fear or nerves. Holding this woman evoked pure adrenaline. Something he’d never experienced before. He couldn’t fight it. Didn’t want to. He could only enjoy the rush.

  “Trinity,” he groaned.

  Her muscles were taut, as though she were preparing to pull away from whomever she’d run into. Blinded by the light from the hallway, Rhett had only touch to rely upon. He felt her relax, her body melt into his. He leaned into the sensation, supporting her weight as his mouth came down on hers.

  Her lips were pliant, almost as if she were expecting this. And he couldn’t wait any longer. He pressed into her from lips to knees, desperate to imprint her body with his. Her curves felt so right. She was no longer the elegant representation of a lady by day, but instead the full impression of a true woman by night. A woman who needed him, if the way she clutched his biceps meant anything.

  He lost himself in the exploration of her lips, tracing the seam with the tip of his tongue until she opened for him. She was sweet without sugar and left him aching for more. Her taste, her response seemed to have been made solely for him. She moaned low in her throat, sending a thrill down his spine.

  He knew kissing her was wrong. But right now, it felt oh so right. Nothing would make him walk away...not even a pesky thing like logic.

  Once more her fingers dug into his upper arms, her body pressing closer. He let his hand slide down the curve of her spine to lock her against him. The throb of his body made him moan. He was forced to pull away to gasp for air.

  “Trinity,” he muttered, his voice turned guttural in his need. “I want you so badly.”

  In an instant her body froze. All that precious molten movement shuttered to a stop. Hands that had clutched at him now pushed him away, demanding release. He could do nothing but obey.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped, backing away one step, then another. “I’m sorry. I just can’t do this.”

  Then she spun on her heel and disappeared into the light.

  Seven

  The next morning, Trinity paused at the top of the stairs as her stomach cramped. She panted through the sensation. There wasn’t much else she could do.

  After all, meeting Rhett this morning wasn’t optional. It was an obligation. A necessity.

  She’d wanted to show him Maison de Jardin, especially after their discussion yesterday. If she could get someone of his stature to see the value of the charity, she might have an ally, and she could sorely use one. But after last night, they needed to have a very uncomfortable conversation.

  Only after her humiliating flight back to her room last night had the questions come. She’d been so startled by his presence, and then his kiss, that she hadn’t properly questioned why he’d been in Michael’s office to begin with. How could that not have been her highest priority?

  The urge to laugh and cry at the same time almost overwhelmed her. If only he knew. She’d been so far out of her
league last night...but no one would believe her if she told them. Just the memory of Rhett’s kiss was enough to evoke shivers.

  That was the last thing she needed to be thinking about right now. She forced herself down the steps one at a time, a deliberate pace even though this was the last place she wanted to be and Rhett was the last person she wanted to face.

  Her brain refused to rehearse the questions she needed to ask. Instead her attention was caught by Rhett’s appearance through the side doorway. He came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

  Trinity tightened her grip on the banister. It wouldn’t do to fall just because this man threw her off.

  His expression was somber this morning, just as she imagined hers was. She tried to lighten the mood with a slight smile, though she probably failed. Mornings after weren’t something she knew how to deal with. And he wasn’t giving her any visual clues on how to proceed.

  Luckily her driver, Roberto, came through the front door just as she reached the bottom of the stairs. A blessing of a distraction.

  “Everything is packed and ready, ma’am,” he said in his slightly accented voice.

  Trinity calmed...for the moment, at least.

  “Thank you, Roberto.” She cast a quick glance toward Rhett. “Shall we?”

  She didn’t even wait long enough to catch his nod. Instead she strode across the foyer with a confidence she was far from feeling. She heard his footsteps behind her.

  Of course, she was simply walking into a trap of her own making. Roberto held the door for them to enter the back of the Bentley, and then she was confined for the next thirty minutes with the very man she’d been kissing last night.

  Why did her brain keep reminding her of that? How exciting it had felt to have his arms around her. How the sexy scent of him had filled her senses. How her body had leaped to life at his touch.

  Stop it!

  Rhett didn’t have the same reservations about bringing up what happened as she did.

  “Trinity, I’m sorry about—”

  “Why were you in Michael’s office last night?”

  It was the only way she could come up with to cut him off at the pass.

  “I apologize, Trinity. I should have explained myself last night, but then we...”

  He just couldn’t keep from mentioning it, could he? Her face burned and she turned to look out the window.

  “I didn’t turn on the lights when I went downstairs last night because I didn’t want to disturb anyone. In the light from my flashlight, I took a wrong turn. The door wasn’t locked, so—”

  “I’ll have to talk to Jenny about that.”

  She sounded super prim. Wow, she really was turning into an old maid. Still, they had to be more careful. Even though she knew everything in the offices was secured, that didn’t mean they needed to leave the door unlocked with a guest in the house. Jenny had been the last one out the night before.

  “I had just realized my mistake and was heading back out when I...ran into you.”

  Suddenly she felt his hand rest lightly on her arm. As much as she wished she could continue to avoid his gaze, that touch compelled her to turn around to face him. Still, she couldn’t drag her eyes up to meet his, but instead stared intently at the smooth gray fabric of his polo.

  “I am very sorry about last night,” he said. “Everything about it was unexpected, but—”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of his hand going up to run through the silvery strands that stood out against dark hair. She couldn’t help but let her gaze follow. Why did he have to be so handsome? Why did he have to seem intelligent and helpful? Why did he have to be affiliated with them?

  Her heart pounded as she remembered the feel of his lips moving over hers. So powerful. So commanding. She’d wanted nothing more than to surrender.

  But she didn’t trust herself to make good judgments right now. Michael was the only man she’d ever trusted. And when it came to romance—if that was even something Rhett was interested in—she was the last person who would know what to ask.

  No, it was safer right now to focus on the chaos already in her life, rather than inviting more.

  “But what we shared last night—”

  “Please don’t.”

  Thankfully, her harsh whisper silenced any words that might be far too tempting for her.

  “Even if I wasn’t a widow of only six short weeks—” she swallowed hard, forcing herself not to reveal the truth that would make his judgment even more harsh “—I simply can’t get involved right now. It’s just too much.”

  She waited for him to offer an excuse or argue. Instead he watched her in enigmatic silence for a few moments before he said, “I understand.”

  He didn’t seem to be judging, but she couldn’t help but notice that he backed down quickly. And didn’t that make her a hypocrite? She didn’t want any romantic complications in her life, but her ego would have appreciated him arguing a little harder for them.

  She turned back toward the window, hoping to hide her confusion. What the heck was wrong with her?

  Thankfully they were turning onto the Maison de Jardin estate. It wasn’t huge in terms of land. Over the years, all estates in the Garden District had shrunk as the city encroached on them. But the house...that was another story.

  As soon as the car stopped in the front drive, Trinity was out the door; she didn’t wait for Roberto to come around and open it for her. She paused in the drive, taking a moment to breathe in the smell of hyacinth and roses. Her gaze roamed over the outside of the mansion. Every time she returned here, that stone facade greeted her, welcoming her home. And yet she always saw it with fresh eyes, no matter how many years she’d lived here.

  “How long has the house been here?” Rhett asked from the other side of the Bentley.

  “It was built in the 1870s, I believe,” Trinity said. “James Hyatt brought big shipping to New Orleans with luxury liners he operated all over the world. He wanted nothing more than to have a large family, but every generation seems to have only birthed one son.”

  “This is breathtaking,” Rhett said, his gaze roaming over the ornamental brick and the landscaped grounds.

  “The inside is even more fascinating,” Trinity assured him. “When James built the house for his first bride, he spared no expense. The idea was to create a legacy that endured. The fact that she never had children was the deepest sorrow of her life, according to her journals.”

  She turned to smile at him. “I can only hope the purpose Michael and his parents put the house to has made her happy.”

  He didn’t scoff or brush off her sentimentality. “I’m sure it has.”

  “His second wife was able to give birth to a son, the only child of that generation.”

  As she stepped around the car toward the front door, Rhett’s hand closed around her arm right above the elbow. She glanced back at him in surprise, unable to suppress the jolt of awareness that came from the contact. If she’d hoped that her reaction to his touch the night before had been a product of the night and her own isolation, she’d been fooling herself.

  He must have felt it, too, because he immediately let go, pulling back and spreading his fingers in a gesture that said I come in peace. His tongue swept out over his lips. Did his mouth go as dry as hers? Was his brief glance down to her lips a hint that he wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted him to?

  Even though she’d told him no.

  “Trinity,” he finally said, “I just want you to know... I see your point.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “What point?” Her heart pounded; she was anxious to hear his next words.

  He gestured to the house and sculpted grounds. “About the house. I don’t know what the whole story is, but I can see that this property would be very valuable to someone who wanted to off-load it.”

 
His gaze was assessing, seeing the worth of what was in front of him like a true businessman. But she found herself hoping he could see even more than just dollars and land values. Would he see the worth of the people who called Maison de Jardin home?

  If he could, she just might have an ally after all.

  * * *

  Rhett may have been impressed with the outer trappings of Maison de Jardin, but the inside was awe-inspiring. The fact that the Hyatts could have bought any house in Louisiana to make the base of their safe house for battered women and children, but chose to place it on the original family estate, spoke to the quality of people they were.

  People who didn’t do anything halfway.

  “Rhett Brannon, this is Madison. She’s my replacement as director here at Maison de Jardin.”

  Madison had flaming auburn hair, pale skin and freckles. She appeared strong despite her less-than-average height and was dressed practically in jeans and a T-shirt.

  Rhett glanced over at Trinity as she and the other woman shared soft smiles. Did Trinity’s hold a hint of sadness? Had she truly found her calling, like her mother, in running Maison de Jardin? Or had she seen it as an opportunity to better herself?

  Despite the Hyatts’ poisonous description of Trinity, he was leaning toward the latter explanation. Her motives seemed pure. It left him a little stunned that he was ready to admit this to himself about a target for the first time in his entire career.

  Then he realized the women were watching him expectantly. He must have missed something. “I’m sorry?”

  “Would you like a tour?” Trinity asked.

  “Oh, of course.”

  Rhett noticed a few women watching from the doorway of another room down the hall, and how they retreated as Madison led them that way. They entered an impressive two-story library, but Rhett had a hard time focusing on the incredible book collection. The three women were now watching him warily from near the fireplace, their expressions ranging from subtle defiance to wide-eyed fear. He almost closed his eyes as he realized the source, but reminded himself they didn’t get the luxury of turning away from what had happened to them.