“What?” My voice cracked. “Why not?”
“He’s a good man, honey,” Dad said, exhaling. “A stand-up boy who’s been in this house more weekends than I can count. He’s like a son to me. You know that.”
The warmth I’d felt at hearing his name evaporated so fast that I suddenly felt cold, chilled to the bone as I prompted him. “But?”
“But he has a history,” Dad said. “And it’s not pretty. Unfortunately, that business with his adulteress ex-wife tainted his name.”
Savannah. Of course. The scandal. The whispers. The thing Trent lived through and survived and somehow rebuilt himself after.
“He’s also a cowboy,” Dad added sharply. “For Christ’s sake. Oil money or not, is that truly the life you want? A ranch? Mud, and livestock, and a man who wakes up at four in the morning? Is that what you think is best for you?”
“Yes,” I said instantly.
His eyes flashed with irritation and he barreled on as if I hadn’t spoken at all. “I have an offer on the table from the Van Allens. A formal one. It’s good.”
A nauseous wave rolled through me, but Dad just kept going. “Gregory is very serious about you. He’ll marry you right away, forgoing the usual courting period. You’d move to England and become an aristocrat. A lady. Lady Van Allen, a marquess’s wife.”
I stared at him, stunned. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice whispered.Marquess. Right. That’s what he is. What even is that?
Dad, meanwhile, smiled faintly, a touch of pride making his chest swell. “You know, you had a great aunt who married into aristocracy. Long ago?—”
“I don’t want to marry Gregory!” The words ripped out of me like an explosion. “Please, Daddy. I can’t.”
Silence dropped between us like a guillotine, my father staring at me like I’d just slapped him across the face. His disappointment was a physical thing, a tangible weight pressing into my ribs. “Your clock has run out, Charlotte. You’re twenty-five and you’ve had years to find someone suitable. This is the Westwood way. Since you won’t be carrying on the family name, it falls on me to ensure you marry someone worthy.”
Worthy.
As if I’m livestock. As if Trent is somehowunworthy.
My throat burned. My palms shook. My heartbeat pounded so hard, I felt it in my teeth as I realized with perfect, painful clarity that my father expected not only to choose a husband for me, but my life. As if I had no agency or choice whatsoever.
My cousins had chosen. Fine, they’d been toldwhento choose and none of them had any choice not to, but they’dchosen. Fuck, as far as I knew, Harrison actually did have a choice. Harlan hadn’t forced him into it. In fact, he’d tried to discourage Harrison from getting married so young.
Sterling, Jameson, and Callum had resisted, but the ultimatum had simply been the kick in the butts they’d needed. It hadn’t been like this.
“Your mother would be proud of you,” Dad told me gently, as if the words were a sugar cube meant to make the medicine go down.
It felt manipulative and cruel, like he knew exactly where to press to make me fold. I swallowed hard. “Dad, I’m trying to explain?—”
He cut me off with a long, weary sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose likeIwas the inconvenience here. “Fine. If Gregory is so unacceptable to you, there’s another option.”
My breathing hitched, oxygen stalling in my lungs.
“Marry Trent.”
The world tilted as I stared at him, certain I’d misheard. “What?”
“We don’t date in this family, but I understand you’re in a relationship with him now,” he said flatly. “Once these wheels start turning, there is no stopping them, and if Trent Shepard is the man you believe is worthy of you, then marry him. Have him come to me, today, and pitch his offer.”
I gaped at him. “I’m not a racehorse.”
“You’re right,” he said, expression unchanging. “You’re the goddamn princess of Chicago and unless that cowboy comes intomy office today and tells me in detail how he plans to take care of you, youaremarrying Gregory. And that is final.”
Something tore inside me, quietly and cleanly, like a seam ripping. I didn’t even remember opening the door, leaving, or rushing down the hallway. My heart was in my throat, beating so violently it stole the air out of my lungs.
Marry Trent.
Marry Trent or Gregory.
