Entangled With The Heiress (Louisiana Legacies Book 1)

by Dani Wade

  Rhett wanted to explode, but forced himself to keep calm. How could Michael have left Trinity surrounded by these people? “How is scaring her the right thing? Or turning the companies over to those people? Is that what you think is right for Michael’s legacy?”

  Larry pressed the handkerchief over his mouth, letting his head drop forward. Emotions turned his cheeks ruddy. “What should I do?”

  It seemed obvious to Rhett but he spelled it out anyway. “Get started swaying the board in her favor...and find me that blogger.”

  Rhett returned to the party to find Trinity standing next to a high-top table by the dance floor. He followed her gaze to see Madison watching the dancers, a tall man at her side. “Do we know him?” he asked as he placed his hand at the small of Trinity’s back.

  “Actually, no,” she said, studying the couple. “I haven’t seen him on the charity circuit before.” She turned to Rhett and was silent for a moment. Her smile slowly faded. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” Rhett struggled to clear his throat. The last thing he wanted was to put Trinity on display, but he didn’t trust Patricia not to do something harmful if he didn’t comply. He wished he didn’t have to do this. “You look beautiful,” he said, regret tightening his throat once more.

  “Thank you. You aren’t too bad to look at yourself.”

  “Then let’s not waste this moment. How about a dance?” That should provide plenty of interesting pictures.

  Trinity eyed the antics on the dance floor with a skeptical look. “I don’t know. I’ve only really slow danced.”

  “This is New Orleans,” he coaxed. “It’s time to learn how to party.”

  Without giving her breathing room, he pulled her out onto the dance floor. He had learned that giving Trinity too much time to think left her paralyzed. Sometimes you had to jump-start the action to get her to, well, act.

  She shouldn’t have worried about her dancing. They shared lots of laughter, lots of teasing, and some very sexual tension. Finally, the band slowed enough that he could pull her close, and bury his fingers in the curls now falling at the nape of her neck.

  It wasn’t until he glanced sideways and caught sight of Patricia and Richard watching from the wings that he remembered exactly why he was on the dance floor. According to their smug expressions, it was time to start worrying.

  Thirteen

  “I just think it would be an interesting way to include donors in the everyday running of the charity,” Trinity concluded as she set her plate on the breakfast table the next morning.

  Heavy clouds loomed outside, warning of an incoming thunderstorm. It still felt like early morning, even though they’d skipped their customary breakfast in favor of an early lunch. Rhett had been grateful for the extra time to sleep. They’d gotten in late after dropping a very chatty Madison off at her home. After the sleepless hours Rhett had spent trying to brainstorm a way out of this whole mess, he was grateful they were getting a late start on their day.

  Feeling sluggish, he simply wanted to stretch out on one of the chaises beneath the bougainvillea vine and soak in some warmth. The weather had other ideas. Also, Trinity was firing on way more cylinders than he was this morning.

  “Don’t you think?” she asked.

  He grunted as he lifted his first cup of hot, black chicory coffee to his lips.

  She shot him a half grin. “Rough night?”

  “You have no idea.”

  He thought she whispered, “Oh, I probably do,” but he couldn’t be sure.

  He’d wrestled half the night with his decision to put Trinity on display at the party last night. Even though she hadn’t felt it, he had known what he was doing. His body was tense with anticipation for the call letting them know a new post was up. It would come today.

  At least these photos were something he could control, rather than something the Hyatts cooked up on a whim to damage Trinity’s reputation further.

  Their phones buzzed almost simultaneously. Rhett didn’t bother to look at his. His focus was on Trinity.

  He watched as she checked her notifications and turned pale. The guilt washed over him, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut for a second, maybe two. Then he heard the clatter of her phone on the table and her footsteps as she ran back into the house.

  By the time he opened his eyes, she was gone.

  He wanted to run after her, but knew he needed to see what had been posted. Her reaction had been unusually strong.

  Reaching across the table, he picked up her phone. The screen lit up as he turned it to face him. Rhett blinked for a moment, his brain not quite comprehending the image. The video still showed the face of a man he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t until he scrolled down to the headline that it all made sense.

  Widow’s Father Confirms She is

  After Money

  Nice. Guess he wouldn’t be winning any father-of-the-year awards, now would he? But the man never had before, so why start now?

  At least Rhett knew what Patricia had been scheming.

  He walked with heavy steps up the stairs to Trinity’s room. Somehow he knew she would be there, surrounded by her books and artwork. He almost expected her to be curled up in the bed. Instead, he found her braced, her back turned as she stared out the panoramic windows.

  Even from this angle, he could tell she had her arms locked around her stomach. Was she crying? Was she raging? Whatever she was doing, it was too quiet for Rhett’s comfort.

  “Trinity, are you okay?” he asked, wincing even as he said the words. Of course, she wasn’t okay. That was a stupid question to ask. But where else could he possibly start?

  “I’m fine,” she said, her tone biting and cold.

  “It’s all right to be upset.”

  “Oh, I’m not upset.” The tremor in her deadly quiet voice set off alarm bells. As she turned to face him, he saw no evidence of tears.

  “I’m not upset,” she repeated. “I’m furious. How dare he? How dare they?” She stomped across the open space, then turned and headed back again.

  Rhett felt like he’d sold his soul for nothing, even though he knew this wasn’t about him. He had no clue how to make this right. At all. But he had to find a way. He wanted to hold her, comfort her in a way he’d never thought he was capable of, but the emotions bouncing off of her kept him at bay.

  So he let her pace it out, hoping his continued presence, his willingness to listen was enough.

  “You know what makes me angry?” she asked, her voice loud enough to ring in his ears. But he refused to wince as she went on. “I’m not angry for myself, but for my mother.”

  She paced back to the window, laying her palm against the glass as if to feel the water running down the other side. “You see, I know whatever he says, he’s lying. He always has. I’m old enough to remember.” She released a soul-deep sigh. “I remember his lies, to us and to himself.”

  She shook her head. “My mother never contradicted him, never argued. Maybe she put up with his abuse longer than she should have, but she tried to keep peace in our house.” Her hand dropped to her side. “Until she knew she couldn’t anymore.” She turned to face him. “It’s a losing battle when you’re up against someone stronger than you.”

  She absently rubbed her fingertips over the scar above her right ear. “She made the choice to leave, but the lies didn’t stop until someone more powerful stepped in. Only Michael was able to truly gut him from our lives. My father just wanted control. He would have plagued us forever without Michael’s help.”

  She pointed a shaky finger toward her phone in Rhett’s hand and he reflexively squeezed it. “Whatever he said about us, it’s a lie. But my mother isn’t here to defend herself, is she?” The way she hugged herself made his chest ache. “Would she want me to? In the midst of all the other chaos in my life, do I really want to engage with...this? Counter wha
tever he might have said about us? Or ignore it all?”

  She slumped forward. “It’s all so exhausting.”

  Rhett bent forward until he could meet her gaze with his own, his chest aching at the emotion in her brown eyes, and asked, “Does he even deserve a response?”

  She shook her head adamantly. “No, he doesn’t.”

  “Then we’ll let Bill deal with it,” he assured her. “Whatever he said.”

  He approached her with cautious steps, for once unsure exactly how to comfort her. “You aren’t alone in this,” he said. “It may feel like it sometimes, but you aren’t alone.” The twinge of unease as the words left his mouth was muted. Over the past few days, he’d become more comfortable being there for her. He wasn’t sure how it had happened. If it was simply the sheer peace of her presence, the purity of her drive to do the best for everyone involved, or the draw of her sophisticated beauty...but the change was definite.

  To his surprise, he welcomed it.

  He didn’t know what the next action to take was or how to fix any of this. But the peace was there. The conviction that she didn’t deserve any of what the Hyatts were doing to her.

  The belief that Michael had made the right choice.

  Then Trinity took a deep breath, looked down at her phone still in his possession, and asked, “Will you watch it with me?”

  * * *

  If Trinity had ever thought she’d see her father again, it had never occurred to her it would be in a rainy room in Michael’s house, in full color on the screen of her phone with Rhett’s arm securely around her.

  She took a deep breath against the sense of unreality as the video began to play.

  Her father’s face was more bloated than she remembered. Probably from years of drinking the beer he’d always liked so much. At least he appeared tidy and clean-shaven. But she could still recognize the essence of his character in the features. What he truly was.

  A bully.

  “I was never nothin’ but good to ’em.” To Trinity, the slight whine in his voice set her on edge. “Until they fell in with that Hyatt dude. I wasn’t wanted for nothin’ after that.”

  The interviewer’s voice was disguised, sounding mechanical as he or she asked questions from off-screen. “Where did they meet Michael Hyatt?”

  “Don’t rightly remember,” her father replied with a shrug. “They was always disappearing, not telling me where they’d go.”

  Trinity could feel herself tightening up, barely able to contain the rebuttals running through her head. Her inner defenses were hardening. She forced herself to remain silent, as if to prove something to a man who wasn’t even in the room.

  Her father continued, “Guess all that money and a fancy house was too much to turn away from.”

  The interviewer asked, “So your wife wanted money?”

  “Doesn’t every woman?”

  Rhett coughed, then cleared his throat. He hugged her a little closer.

  Her father continued, “Nothin’ I did was ever good enough for ’em. They was always whining and crying. Enough to put me in a rage.”

  Guess the audience wouldn’t realize quite how accurate his words were.

  “I’m pretty sure if that girl of mine was in the right place, she’d take full advantage of getting in that guy’s pants—”

  “Oh, turn it off,” she snapped.

  Rhett paused the video and stared for a long moment at the frozen screen. “How awful,” he muttered.

  Trinity turned her head to look up at him, watching his throat muscles work as he swallowed.

  He pulled back a little so he could look down at her. The slight frown between his brows touched her. Very few people would care about her feelings in this matter. Life had taught her that much.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  A sad sort of chuckle escaped, surprising her. “Actually, it’s a relief.”

  “Why?” he asked, the frown digging a little deeper.

  “Because that man is obviously full of himself. My memories were right.”

  Rhett nodded slowly. “But not everyone will see that. Even if they do...”

  “That’s not my problem.”

  Trinity struggled to put her sudden apathy into words. It wasn’t really that she didn’t care. Some part of her did. But the overwhelming feeling at the moment was a kind of numbness seeping over her, giving her a respite from the constant upset caused by other people’s actions.

  She’d been reacting since she’d first learned of Michael’s death, and faced public outrage over the inheritance. Even before that, going back to when Michael had asked her to marry him and told her the reason for his request. It was as if her own emotions were being played by an orchestra of other players, but she never got to voice her own personal song. The numbness was a relief on several levels, even though she sensed it was a protective move to shut down the roller coaster she couldn’t seem to get off.

  “These past weeks have taught me the hard way that I can’t control what everyone thinks,” she said. “The reality doesn’t make me happy—I’ve spent my life trying to help others—but it’s foolish to sit around and stew about it.”

  Still, the struggle wore her down. Why, for a few minutes, could she not be happy? She wanted to actually live rather than simply struggle to breathe. To figure out the fix to everything around her.

  She glanced down, her gaze catching on the sight of Rhett’s hand on his thigh. So strong. So masculine. She remembered the feel of it on her body, and wished for once that she hadn’t chickened out the other night.

  Maybe there wouldn’t be any repercussions. At her age, maybe he wouldn’t even be able to tell that she’d never been with anyone else. After all, who would suspect it? She inched her fingers over to his, then let them glide over his skin in a tiny stroke that felt awfully big.

  Lightning flashed outside the windows, followed moments later by thunder loud enough to shake the house. The storm was raging. Wind beat against the house with the full ferocity of nature. It mirrored Trinity’s emotions.

  She swallowed the lump of fear in her throat and wrapped trembling fingers around Rhett’s palm. She could sense his gaze on her, but couldn’t force herself to look up.

  She wanted this for herself, this one thing. And she would have it.

  “Trinity?”

  A questioning, searching tone, but not a rejection. She took a moment to gather what little courage she could find, then forced herself to look up and meet his gaze with an open one of her own.

  She could see when the realization hit him. Of their own accord, her fingers stroked over his hand again. She allowed herself to test the textures of his skin. To ground herself in the moment and let the last weeks of turmoil completely slip away.

  The last time he’d touched her, he’d been hesitant, almost as if he were asking for permission. This time, he already had it. With firm confidence, his hand slid up from her shoulder into the fall of her hair. The feel of him cupping the back of her head made her want to melt into his warmth. Her neck, shoulders and back relaxed in automatic response.

  Her eyelids slid down. In the darkness, she could focus on the touch, smell and feel of him. The rain against the windows and roof created a cocoon where it was only the two of them. The rest of the world washed away beneath the deluge.

  He twisted his upper body toward her. He began massaging her scalp with both hands. Breathy moans escaped her parted lips, but she couldn’t stop them. Refused to smother them. They blended with the ping of raindrops.

  Then his lips covered hers.

  Giving herself over to her desires, Trinity refused to hold anything back. She reached out, grasping the front of his shirt with her fists. Her head spun with the overwhelming sensations. Being able to just feel, instead of constantly thinking, left her desperate for more.

  No one had ever
done this for her...except Rhett.

  Then suddenly he was gone. Trinity opened her eyes to find him standing beside the bed, his gaze darkened with an intensity that made her shiver. His body shadowing her made her feel small but not afraid. Rhett had never used his strength against her; he never would. But now he crowded forward. She crawled back. Their gazes remained locked.

  As she reached the middle of the bed, he grabbed her foot with both hands. She watched as his skillful fingers found each buckle, loosened each strap and slid each foot free. Since when had removing sandals been so sexy?

  Then, one at a time, he enveloped each arch in his big hands and began to work magic. Squeezing, rubbing, pressing... Trinity let herself fall back onto the comforter, no longer able to hold herself upright as her body rejoiced. The focus wasn’t just on her feet; every inch of her seemed to revel in his expertise.

  Then he guided her feet until they rested flat against the top of the bed. Her legs were spread wide beneath her flowing skirt, knees bent. She knew it wouldn’t be any barrier at all. He loosened his tie, pulling it off over his head. Then he unbuttoned the first button on his dress shirt. Then the next. Then the next.

  Finally he paused, fingers poised to finish the job, and asked, “Are you ready?”

  Fourteen

  Rhett blew out a heavy breath, attempting to steady his fingers. The shaking was unexpected. Of the intense emotions buffeting him right now, nervousness wasn’t one of them.

  He refused to think about what that might mean.

  Instead, he focused on stripping down to his boxers quickly so he could turn his attention where it mattered. To Trinity.

  Her reactions seemed just as intense as his. Gratifying, for sure. But more important, they fed his own response in a way he’d never experienced before. It was a mutual exchange of energy that pushed them both higher. He wanted to experience every part of Trinity with a thirst that went beyond mere physical desire...and he wanted the same for her.

  Rhett slipped his hands beneath her skirt to cup the backs of her knees. Her skin was soft, silky smooth. He swallowed hard on a moan. Palms flat, he traced her supple muscles up to her hips, feeling as if he’d been granted something very special, something only between the two of them. When his fingertips found the edge of her panties, he paused, letting another breath out. Her hips lifted slightly, granting permission. He could hear her panting, see the desire in her eyes even as the thunderstorm darkened the room further.