by Maisey Yates
He wasn’t sure what he expected her to do. He wasn’t all that surprised when her eyes got a wet look to them—it went with the dress. But then her mouth opened and instead of a sob, a giggle came out. “You don’t know,” she said, her eyes watering even as she laughed harder. “Oh, God—you really don’t know?”
So he was out of the loop on the New York scene. “Know what?” A tear trickled down her cheek and he lifted his other hand to wipe it away. When it was gone, he didn’t pull his hand away. He cupped her cheek and kept stroking her skin. It was almost like a hug, right? “What’s happened?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said, an edge of bitterness creeping into her voice. “It’s just...” The giggle ended in a hiccup that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “It was all a lie, wasn’t it? My entire life has been a lie.”
He caught another tear before it could get far. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you? I can’t believe you haven’t heard.” She closed her eyes and he could feel the tension in her body. “They’re calling it the Preston Pyramid. My family’s investment company was nothing but a pyramid scheme and it’s all come crashing down.”
* * *
How could he not know? The collapse of Preston Investment Strategies wasn’t just a New York scandal. Renee’s father—with the help of her brother and her lying, cheating husband—had bilked hundreds of thousands of investors out of millions of dollars all across the country. She’d thought everyone knew about the Preston Pyramid.
But then again, wasn’t that why she was in Dallas instead of New York? She just needed to get away. Away from the reporters camped out in front of her apartment building. Away from the gossip and the threats. She needed to go somewhere where people might not look at her like she was the Antichrist’s daughter. And Clint had told her to trust the Lawrence family. He’d said Oliver would take care of her, but Renee was done with people telling her what to do.
Chloe had been her best friend, once upon a time. Chloe never took crap from anyone. Chloe would help her.
Except Chloe wasn’t here. Oliver was. And Renee was out of options.
This was how far she’d fallen. Slipping past his executive assistant, barging into his office and doing her level best to keep it together.
Which was hard to do when he was touching her so tenderly. Not that those tender, sweet touches would last when he realized the true magnitude of what had happened. She stared at him as he processed the news. She saw her own emotions reflected in his face. Shock, disbelief—a lot of disbelief. “Your father ran a pyramid scheme? How?”
She shrugged. She should move away from him. He basically had her pinned against the door and was staring down into her face with his intense brown eyes. But he kept stroking her cheek and she couldn’t break the contact. It took everything she had not to lean into the touch, not to ask for more.
It had been Clint’s wedding, hadn’t it? The last time she’d seen Oliver Lawrence? She remembered Crissy Hagan, another one of the bridesmaids that Renee had thought was a friend until about six weeks ago. Crissy had gushed about how gorgeous Clint’s old friend was, but...Renee had blown Crissy off. Oliver wasn’t hot—he was irritating. He’d always looked down upon her. He’d been serious and grumpy, even as a kid. He’d never liked her and he’d made it difficult for anyone else to like him. Why he and Clint had got along, she’d never known.
When Renee had found herself next to him at the bar, she’d tried to strike up a conversation by asking about the rodeo. He’d promptly informed her he hated the damned thing in the meanest voice she’d ever heard.
Oliver Lawrence was not someone she could rely on. At least, he hadn’t been.
She still didn’t know if he was or not.
But Crissy had been right. Oliver had been hot then—and he was hotter now. He was one of those men who was just going to get better looking with age. How old was he? Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine? Clint had turned twenty-nine in jail, so Oliver was around there.
He was not the same boy she remembered. He had four inches on her and he seemed so much...more than she remembered from five years ago. Taller, broader. More intense.
Stupid hormones. She was not here to lust after Oliver Lawrence, of all people. She was here to hide.
“Apparently,” she said, remembering he had asked a question, “very well. No one caught on for years. Decades. He generated just enough returns that people believed the lies he sold them. Reinvestment, they called it. He convinced everyone to reinvest the profits they made, sometimes investing even more than the original amount. Of course there were no real profits,” she said, her emotions rising again. She struggled to keep them in check. “There were never any profits. Not for the investors. It all went to him.” She swallowed, forcing herself to look away from Oliver’s intensity. “To us. I didn’t know anything about it, but there’s no denying that I benefited from his schemes. I can’t believe you haven’t heard,” she repeated.
Anger and shame burned through her. She was so damned mad at her family—and she hurt for all the people who’d been swindled. Her father had ruined lives so he could buy a fourth vacation home. It was evil, what he’d done.
But worse than that—how could she have gone twenty-six years without realizing that her father was nothing but a glorified con artist?
When Oliver didn’t say anything, she glanced back up at him. His jaw was hard and there was something dangerous in his eyes. “Okay,” he said. “Your father bilked investors out of a lot of money. I’m going to guess that your brother had something to do with it?”
“Of course.” She sighed. “Clint and my husband were both involved.”
Abruptly, Oliver stepped back. “I’m sorry I missed your wedding. How long have you been married?”
“I’m not anymore.” She took another deep breath and squared her shoulders. She wouldn’t let this fact hurt her. She wouldn’t let Chet hurt her, not ever again. “Chet Willoughby is dead.”
Oliver recoiled another step as if she’d slapped him and then turned and began to pace. “I understand that it is unforgettably rude to ask, but are you...” He waved toward her midsection.
She almost smiled. After the last two months, his apologetic question was the least rude thing she’d heard. “Four and a half months.”
Oh, the press had had a field day with that. Preston Pyramid Princess Pregnant! had blared from every newspaper and website for days. Weeks. The media loved a good alliterative headline.
Oliver burrowed his fingers in his hair, causing his brown hair to stand up almost on end. “Right. Your family’s fortune was stolen, and your husband, who worked for your criminal father, is dead, and he left you pregnant. Am I missing anything?”
The fact that there was no judgment in his voice, no sneering or laughter—that was when Renee realized she’d made the right choice. Even if Chloe wasn’t here, getting out of New York was the best thing she could have done. She could breathe in Texas. That’s all she wanted. Just enough space to breathe again. “Those are the basics. Oh, my mother took what was left of the money and ran away to Paris. That might be an important detail.”
It was an extremely important detail to the authorities.
“Yes, I can see how that might be significant.” He launched a wobbly smile at her, as if he couldn’t tell if he should laugh or not. When she couldn’t so much as manage a chuckle, he leaned against his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose.
If she’d had any other options, she wouldn’t be here. He’d looked like he was already having a terrible day and that was before she unloaded her tale of woe upon him. Her life wasn’t his responsibility.
But she had no place else to go. Getting permission to come to Texas had used all of her remaining political capital.
“Did you know about the scheme?”
She shook her head. “I am fully cooperating with the investigation. The
authorities know where I am and I may be summoned back to New York at any time. I am not allowed to leave the country under any circumstance.” That had been the deal. She didn’t have much testimony to offer because her parents had maintained that Renee’s entire job was to make the family look good. Her appearance was the only thing of value about her. At the time, it had bothered her deeply. How could her own father look at her and see nothing but a pretty face? How could he ignore her and leave her to her mother?
But now? Now she was glad that her father had kept her separate from his business dealings. It was literally the only thing keeping her out of prison.
Her main value to the authorities at this point was convincing her brother to testify against their father. And Clint was in no hurry to do that. He was holding out for a better deal.
Oliver studied her closely, his arms crossed and his hair wild. He stared for so long that she was afraid he was going to kick her out, tell her to go back to New York and deal with this mess by herself. And she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. If Oliver wouldn’t help her, she’d...
She’d go find Chloe. Not for the first time, she wished that her so-called friends in New York hadn’t turned on her. Because really, what kind of friends were they? The kind who went running to the gossip websites, eager to spill anything that would make the Preston family look worse than they already did. Not a single one had stood by her. She’d been neatly cut out of her social circle, an object of derision and scorn.
So if Oliver called security, it really wouldn’t be that different. She wouldn’t blame him at all. She was nothing to him, except maybe a distant childhood memory.
“You need to hide?” he asked just as she had given up hope.
“Yes,” she said, her heart beginning to pound faster.
He shook his head and muttered something she didn’t catch, something about Clint, maybe? Then he looked at her and said, “I’m sorry about your husband.”
One should not speak ill of the dead. It was one of the last things her mother had said to Renee before she’d disappeared with three million dollars of other people’s money. But Renee couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped her. “I’m not.”
He thought on that for a moment, his gaze lingering on her stomach. Her skin flushed warm under his gaze. Stupid hormones. Oliver Lawrence was not interested in her. No one in their right mind would give her a second glance.
In fact, it was definitely a mistake that she’d come. She was toxic to everyone and everything surrounding her. Here he was, a good man, and she’d all but thrown herself at his feet.
She was desperate. But she hoped the taint of Preston scandals didn’t smear him.
Please don’t lie to me, she found herself praying. Even if the truth were brutal—like he was going to throw her out—all she wanted from him was the truth. She couldn’t handle another person looking her in the eye and telling a bald-faced lie.
“All right,” he said, pushing off the desk and crossing to her. He put his hands on her shoulders, but he didn’t draw her in. He just looked at her and even though it was a risk to him for her to be here, she still knew she’d made the right choice—especially when he said, “Let’s get you hidden.”
Copyright © 2018 by Sarah M. Anderson
ISBN-13: 9781488091919
Claim Me, Cowboy
Copyright © 2018 by Maisey Yates
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