His throat bobbed, but he didn’t break eye contact. “It would be temporary.”
I just shook my head, because none of this made sense to me—not the arranged marriage tradition, not the silent expectations or the idea that a woman like Charlotte Westwood didn’t have full autonomy over her own damn life.
“I’ll never understand your family’s obsession with marriage contracts,” I muttered. “I get convenience and God knows, my own family is as fanatic as any other about protecting the family name, and the family fortune, and whatever the fuck else, but this?”
Alex’s expression tightened. “It’s not supposed to be like this.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that it is.”
He hesitated for a second, but then he finally gave me more context and what he said wasn’t what I’d expected, but it made my blood simmer just to be listening to it. I couldn’t imagine how he was feeling as Charlotte’s oldest brother.
“Remember when I said Gregory was practically run out of England with pitchforks?”
“Yep.”
“Well, it’s because the people over there started realizing how he operates. He’s a predator and his prey is any well-off, unsuspecting woman.” Alex rubbed his hands over his face. “He goes after them, charms the living shit out of them and everyone in their lives, and then, once he gets what he came for, whether its status, or money, or even an invitation to a fucking polo match, he walks away. Clean. Or at least, it used to be clean until people started catching on.”
I ground my teeth so hard, my jaw popped. “So he came over here to start all over again, just in a new city with new women to use, and your father is ready to hand Charlotte over to him?”
Alex looked sick. “He thinks Gregory’s a gentleman. He met him long before everything started. Still thinks of him as Greg Senior’s little boy.”
I didn’t say anything for a long moment, then exhaled sharply through my nose. “Fine.”
Alex blinked. “Fine?”
“You heard me.” I stood. “I’m really taking Charlotte to Texas while you untangle this mess here, huh?”
Relief made his shoulders sag. “I’ll work my magic. Just keep her away for a couple weeks.”
“You got it.” I jabbed a finger at him. “This is on you, though.”
“I know.”
He looked me right in the eyes when he said it, but I still didn’t trust that he actually understood what he was asking me to do here. I also didn’t trust that he was going to be overly happy when he realized, but that flicker of fear on Charlotte’s face when she’d looked at me after she’d said she couldn’t do it?
I trusted that.
When I reached his door, I turned back to him. “What’s her number? I should talk to her before we leave.”
“Yeah. I’m sure she’s pretty nervous about this.”
So am I.
I typed her number into my phone when he rattled it off. I called her as I walked out of the elevator in their lobby. She answered on the third ring, her voice a little breathless, like she’d been pacing or running before I’d called.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” I said. “It’s Trent.”
A beat of silence followed. “Yeah, I gathered. I don’t know many people with your accent.”
“We need to talk,” I said. “Preferably not in front of your brothers, your dad, or any other lurking variables.”
Despite the tension in her voice, I heard the faintest huff of laughter come out of her. “You’re not wrong. Alright, when and where?”
“That coffee shop you like. Now would be good. I’m leaving W&S as we speak.”
There was a much longer pause this time, but finally, she agreed. “Okay. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. See you soon.”
