by Joanne Rock
“My family may have given me advantages,” he acknowledged carefully, returning to the catering tray left on the sideboard to escape the naked anguish in her expression. Or was it so that she didn’t see his? He wanted to pour himself a drink, but there was nothing but sparkling water and an unopened bottle of champagne on the tray. And this hardly felt like a celebration. He took a deep breath before continuing, “But like you, I’ve worked hard to get where I am. And you can’t deny that you’ve enjoyed the privileges that come with the Currin name. The access to the Texas Cattleman’s Club, for example. The networking for your future.”
Giving up on the drink he wanted, Xander pivoted back toward Frankie. She was staring at him as though she was seeing him for the first time, her expression puzzled.
“I have appreciated that, Xander.” Her reasonable tone didn’t do anything to soothe his sense of things falling apart.
He could feel the thin foundation of their affair crumbling beneath his feet.
“But you won’t need my help any longer once you’re a Langley, will you?” he pressed, seeing the truth of what being an heiress meant for her. “With your inheritance, you certainly won’t need to work on the ranch. You’ll have all the backing you’d need for membership in the Texas Cattleman’s Club. Hell, Abby’s a past president of the Royal branch, so you’re in good hands there. She’s surely better connected than I am.”
He wanted to stop the flow of words, to shut down the certainty that this was the end of them. He knew he was being unfair to her. They didn’t even know for sure that she was a Langley. But the thought of losing her like this was tearing him apart. More than it should. And that had him itching to run, far and fast.
“I didn’t enter this relationship for the help,” she shot back with a fierceness in her tone, revealing that he’d touched a nerve. “If you’ll recall, I was ready to buy my own ticket to the gala.”
Damn it.
This was not the conversation he should be having with her right now. Especially here, with partyers only a stone’s throw away. But right or wrong, they were stuck with this conversation. Consequences be what they may.
“By risking your neck,” he reminded her wryly. “I remember. You were prepared to succeed without me then. But now we’ve shared something, even if it was a fling. I think you owe me at least a goodbye if you’re intending to walk away.”
“I never said I wanted to end...this.” She hugged herself tighter, more beautiful in her simple white dress than any of the socialites draped in jewels and designer outfits mingling at the party that played out through the glass behind her.
“You didn’t have to.” His chest ached to look at her, so delicate and strong at the same time. “You’ve been preparing for the end of this affair ever since the first night we spent together. You left that time, Frankie. Not me.” The sense of loss closed over him like a dark cloud. Smothering him. He needed to get away from here.
“That’s not fair,” she told him softly, her green eyes wounded, yet she didn’t draw near him.
None of it was fair. That didn’t make the hurt any less real.
He backed up a step to retrieve his truck keys from the table. “I’m going to get some fresh air. The room is all yours for the night if you want it.”
“I don’t.” She lobbed the retort his way as he headed for the door.
Of course she didn’t want the room. He shouldn’t be surprised. Xander didn’t have one damned thing left to offer her anymore.
* * *
Frankie stared out the sunroom windows of the private hacienda, watching the beautiful party going on without her or Xander.
The sun had fully set since he stormed out of the private lodging, the quiet descending on her like a shroud after their heated exchange. It hadn’t been an argument, really. But the darker emotions it had churned in her were volatile enough.
And she knew it had done the same for him. She’d heard it clearly enough in his voice right before he’d walked away.
Not in a million years would she have guessed she could wield the power to hurt Xander Currin, a man she’d viewed as invincible to softer emotions, judging by the revolving door of women he’d dated. But that hadn’t been fair of her. She’d assumed that he lacked deeper feelings, when he’d simply locked them away as effectively as she had.
He had been protecting himself after the loss of his fiancée. She’d been protecting herself against the abandonment that had been burned into her nature at a young age. Maybe she should have recognized his kindred spirit, but she’d been so busy worrying about the risk to her own heart she hadn’t given enough thought to his.
Now Frankie took in the lush garden setting just outside the window, seeing it without being a part of it. What a perfect metaphor for her whole life. Always on the outside looking in. She’d never had a deep sense of family from the couple who’d raised her. Never had a sense of belonging until she’d come to Currin Ranch, where her “family” was made up of grizzled wranglers and herdsmen. Even there, she’d had different dreams than them, wanting to work with the animals more than the people.
The shock of Abigail Langley’s revelation was making her feel even more untethered than usual. Every abandoned child dreamed of unlikely scenarios like this one—a stranger sees beyond the surface to the person she was born to be. But Frankie had outgrown dreams like that long ago, so she wasn’t going to get suckered into some fanciful vision of her future.
An heiress.
She couldn’t even imagine how radically that would change her life. She wouldn’t have to scrimp every cent for veterinary school and for a place of her own one day. Even more importantly, she would be able to afford to focus all her time on her studies instead of working to support herself. That would be...too incredible.
Aside from the obvious benefits of money, Frankie would belong. Xander had a point about not needing him—she would have her own place in the Texas Cattleman’s Club. A privileged family who would help her secure that spot.
Yet just because she didn’t need Xander didn’t mean she wouldn’t want him. She feared she would always want him, whether he wanted her or not.
She didn’t know how much time she passed staring out at the party, picking through her feelings, but a swish of blond hair outside drew her attention to where Angela Perry and her father were having an intense private conversation beneath a sprawling old live oak tree, hidden from view of the rest of the party. Father and daughter. Family.
As much as Sterling seemed overbearing and far too intrusive in his daughter’s life, at least Angela had the certainty that she was deeply loved. The longing for family intensified the ache in Frankie’s heart.
Did she want to rejoin the glittering party on the other side of the windows? This time, she would be all alone. No Xander to smooth her way or make introductions.
Should she hold her head up high and force herself into the future? Go back to the party and tell Abigail Langley she’d take the DNA test, even if she didn’t understand how she could possibly be a Langley?
It would be easier to hide in the private room Xander had reserved for them, nursing the ache in her chest that burned ever since his parting words. But that had never been in her nature. Xander had been correct about that much. Even if it meant risking her neck, she would forge ahead.
In this case, maybe what she really needed to risk was the piece of her she’d guarded so carefully. The heart that she’d wanted to keep safe from Xander at all costs.
But first, she needed to get some answers about who she was, even if meant going back to Laredo and facing the home she’d run from the moment she’d turned eighteen.
* * *
Angela Perry hadn’t wanted to confront her father here—at the cocktail reception following the Texas Cattleman’s Club planning meeting. But her dad had a way of forcing his own agenda, demanding to speak with her privately unless she
wanted another very public showdown.
As if she’d been the one to initiate their argument at the Flood Relief Gala.
“I thought I made myself very clear regarding that bastard Ryder Currin,” her father fumed, his eyes narrowing. His Stetson and boots were both brand-new, and diamond cufflinks in the shape of horseshoes glittered at his wrists.
Her father was a very different man from Ryder.
Angela clutched her purse tighter, mindful of eyes all around them, even if they were tucked behind the trunk of an old live oak. The landscape lighting kept the garden area in a golden glow as the temperature dropped enough for more people to venture outside in the June heat. Strategically placed outdoor fans kept air circulating.
“You made it clear you’d rather be unreasonable than listen to what I have to say.” Angela’s eyes found Ryder on the other side of the party, his dark Stetson a perfect complement to his jeans and jacket.
His ease in his own skin had always attracted her. He’d never needed anything flashy for himself, and she liked that about him. She wasn’t going to pretend otherwise for her father’s sake.
“Are you aware of the rumors?” Sterling demanded, the cords in his neck standing out visibly as his anger ratcheted up.
“I am,” she told him defiantly, shifting position on her heels so they didn’t sink into the soft earth. “I know about the alleged affair with Mom, and I don’t believe it for a minute. I know you don’t, either, or you would have settled that with Mom long ago.”
Sterling wasn’t the kind of man who would take that offense lying down. Angela’s mother must have been able to prove her innocence. Or else Sterling had never had a shred of evidence to begin with. Angela wasn’t going to let a whisper campaign prevent her from finding happiness with Ryder.
“Ryder Currin has tried to undermine me my whole life.” He pointed at her with the tip of his longneck bottle. “Do you really think you mean anything more to him than as a tool to weaken Perry Holdings?”
Angela tried to ignore the hurt that came with the words—the implication that she meant nothing to Ryder.
“I believe I have more appeal than that, Dad. And I also believe I’m too important to Perry Holdings for you to dismiss me just because you don’t want me to have a relationship with Ryder. My personal life is my business. Not yours.”
Her father looked ready to explode with anger. Angela debated walking away before he could respond, but she knew that would only delay the inevitable confrontation. Besides, there were two men in poorly fitting suits headed their way. Something about them appeared off, alerting her they didn’t belong here. One of them was gray-haired and grizzled. The other tall, thin, with a clean-shaven face that made him look like he was barely out of college.
A handful of party guests turned to watch their progress through the crowd toward Angela and her father. As they neared, one of them pulled out a badge.
The police.
“Dad,” she said, keeping her voice low. “We have company.” Then, to the closest police officer, she asked, “What’s going on?”
Sterling turned to see the men, then stepped closer to Angela. “I’m sure it’s just about the body at the TCC renovation site,” he reassured her.
A bad feeling made her stomach sink. The officers didn’t look friendly. And their attention was fixed firmly on her father.
“Sterling Perry?” the gray-haired shorter of the pair asked, shoving his badge back inside his jacket pocket.
“Yes,” her father answered.
A glint of metal distracted her and she realized in slow-motion horror that the younger officer withdrew a pair of handcuffs.
“Sterling Perry, you’re under arrest for conspiracy to commit fraud. You have the right to remain silent—”
The rest of the words were lost on Angela in her shock. Stunned, she struggled to take in the pandemonium around her. Her father began shouting that he was innocent even as the handcuffs went around his wrists. Angela’s knees turned to liquid under her. Stumbling forward, she felt blindsided as the arresting officer continued to read a laundry list of charges that made it sound like her father had masterminded a Ponzi-style scheme.
What the hell? She hadn’t even known he was under criminal investigation. All her anger at him from earlier in the evening evaporated as she saw him in handcuffs. He was her father and this couldn’t be true.
Beside her, her twin sister, Melinda, suddenly appeared, linking hands with her and squeezing so tightly her fingers went numb.
“Why is this happening?” She glanced over at Melinda. Her twin was usually so unflappable, but her viselike grip relayed her own disconcerted feelings.
“I don’t know, but I’m afraid it’s going to get worse before it gets better,” she said softly, careful not to be overheard. “Once investors get wind of this, they will start to panic, wanting to sell their shares.”
Melinda didn’t have to spell out what that meant. Widespread fear for their finances would result in too many shareholders trying to cash in at once. Which meant a whole lot of good people could go broke, even if her father wasn’t guilty.
* * *
I staked out an excellent view of Sterling Perry’s dramatic exit. Of course, it was easy to put myself in a good position since I may have leaked a few things to the police. When Ryder and Angela didn’t have quite the splashy public breakup I was hoping for, I will admit I began getting antsy for things to start happening.
Having Sterling behind bars will do wonders for my plan. Public opinion will shift quickly now. People who held Sterling in such high regard are sure to turn on him overnight. What perfect punishment for him, considering how quickly my life went up in flames because of Sterling Perry and Ryder Currin.
I remember all too well how that felt. How it still feels. My lost family. My lost wealth and privilege. Sure, I’d salvaged the pretense of reasonable success, but it was nothing compared to my old life.
Seeing Angela and Melinda now, holding hands while they worry about their precious father, reminds me how I have no children in my life to worry about me. I hate that Sterling has that kind of support. Even as I celebrate seeing him taken away by the police, I regret that I can’t yank everything out from under him all at once.
Patience.
Strolling out of the gardens, I step inside the main building into the cool air-conditioning. It’s better not to get overheated or overzealous about the revenge scheme. One thing at a time, and I need to be satisfied with the progress I make each day toward my revenge. Because rushing the agenda only adds a risk to getting caught.
And I refuse to let that happen.
* * *
From the opposite side of the garden, Xander saw Sterling being taken away in handcuffs.
He’d lingered outside the suite he’d obtained for Frankie, knowing he should figure out a way through their problems. Yet before he could come up with the right words to say to her that might smooth things over, the police had arrived to cart Sterling off the property. An absolute disaster of an evening from start to finish.
Even now from his vantage point near the outdoor bar, Xander could see Frankie silhouetted in the sunroom window by the candlelight behind her, the white dress making her easier to see. Then again, his eyes would be drawn to her anywhere, anytime.
His lungs constricted around a breath while the Texas Cattleman’s Club party dissolved into tense conversations, panicked phone calls and a sea of gossip. The anxiety of seeing Sterling being taken away was affecting everyone—friend and foe alike. Xander knew he should check in with his father, who might have his hands full comforting Angela in the aftermath of this latest adversity. But he couldn’t quite tear his gaze from Frankie when he knew she must be in shock over Abigail Langley’s revelations.
Whether or not she was the missing heiress, Frankie deserved his support. Yet he couldn’t forget how completely
she’d withdrawn from him afterward. Just like Rena had.
It would haunt him forever that he hadn’t seen the signs of his fiancée’s unhappiness before her untimely death. He’d never had the chance to find out why she’d broken things off so suddenly, and he had been completely unaware that she’d wanted to end it. Now, in the first significant relationship he’d had since then—the first relationship that really meant something to him—he’d missed the bigger picture once again.
Wrestling with his conscience about walking away, he knew he needed to talk to Frankie. When his cell phone vibrated in his jacket pocket, he felt a moment’s hope that she’d reached out to him. Checking the screen, however, he saw a text from his father.
We need to meet. Now.
Damn it. The whole Texas Cattleman’s Club community would feel the reverberations of Sterling’s arrest. Xander understood he needed to help his father put out fires.
Maybe it was best that he and Frankie take time to think through things after their exchange anyhow. For tempers to calm. He’d talk to her once cooler heads prevailed.
And even as he told himself that, Xander suspected he was just avoiding the truth of what his gut was telling him—that he’d already fallen in love with Frankie and he was scared as hell she would never love him back.
Eleven
Four days after the party, Xander still hadn’t seen Frankie. He’d left her a message that he hoped to see her, but didn’t want to pressure her. Especially since he’d been the one to walk out on a night that must have been devastating for her.
He regretted that deeply, even as he knew he would while it was all unfolding. But he hadn’t been ready for Abby Langley’s surprise announcement, let alone what it meant for his future with Frankie.
If there was such a thing. He might have destroyed any chance he had for a future with her by not putting her first when she needed him most.
