She looked at him like he would magically fix it, but Alex sat back in his chair, as calm as ever, and steepled his fingers. “Dad is the patriarch of the family. There’s no getting around that, but I’m the CEO of Westwood and Sons now, not him. I control the finances. I control the corporate decisions. Dad’s retirement wasn’t symbolic.”
“He has a board seat,” she shot back. “What happened to that meaning that he could rip the company away from you despite being retired?”
“He can’t,” Alex said confidently, none of that uncertainty from the other day anywhere to be found on his features right now. “The board seat doesn’t give him unilateral power to revoke my appointment. Trust me, I checked. Twice.”
I watched the realization hit her, slow and dawning. She looked between us, searching for cracks in the logic or some sign this was all a dream. “If you’re so sure about that, why are we still talking about this?”
“Because Dad can and will hold your inheritance hostage if you don’t go along with his plans. He will also cut you off and force the rest of us to do the same. Being the patriarch still gives him that power. Nothing any of us can do about it, but Trent has enough money for the both of you. You don’t need yours if you marry him.”
Her eyes flicked to mine and I nodded once. Firm. Certain. Confident in the decision I’d made. “You’re not marrying Gregory and I’m not letting you get shipped off to England like some political chess piece.”
She exhaled shakily, anger and fear tangled together. Shaking her head, she slammed back in the chair and just stared out the window. “Is this really happening?”
“Yes,” I said quietly, meeting her gaze when it flicked back to mine. “I know it’s a lot, Charlotte. It is for me too, but like I said, we’ve hashed it out and there is no other way. Unless you want tocompletely walk away from your family, change your name, and disappear.”
Alex finally chimed back in, and it was like I could see his heart breaking behind his eyes. “I’m sorry it had to be you first, Char. I thought it would be me. For sure. It never even crossed my mind that it might be you, but Trent is right. Dad isn’t going to let this go. Either way, whatever you choose, you won’t be a Westwood much longer.”
A muffled, choked sound came out of her, horror slackening her features as she looked back at her brother. “This is insane.”
“Yep,” I said, leaning closer and catching her gaze. “Only, somehow, marrying me is the least insane option. It keeps you here, in the States, with me and your brothers, and your dad knows my intentions. Once the Van Allens fuck off back to England for good and stop pressuring him, he’ll eventually remember that he loves us both and you’ll have the chance at rebuilding your relationship.”
Alex waited out the ensuing silence, then clapped his hands once, efficient and final. “The plane is fueled and waiting. If we’re doing this, we need move now before Dad finds out what we’re planning.”
Charlotte swallowed hard, looking at the suitcase, then at me, then at the door. I held out my hand. “We can figure everything out later. For now, just say yes. Please?”
My attention never drifted from her as I waited for her answer. She’d gone pale, like someone had drained the color straight out of her, and I hated it.
I fucking detested that she’d been shoved into a corner with only two doors, one leading to Gregory Van Allen and the other to me. Neither felt like a real choice, and then there was the third non-option, denouncing her name and her family, and going backpacking through Thailand or something.
Alex and I had briefly spoken about legally changing her last name to her mother’s maiden name, but we’d both known she wouldn’t go for it. The Westwoods were too close, too proud, and too wrapped up in duty and tradition to even consider it.
Charlotte had been born into this world of arrangements and negotiations, where her last name was currency and her future was an asset to leverage. I knew that. Hell, everyone in Chicago knew that. Gregory wasn’t even the only man clawing for a slice of her inheritance.
Douglas had batted away more suitors than Alex had even realized. When I’d gone to talk to him, he’d told me the offers had been pouring in for years, but the Van Allens’ was the only one he’d ever seriously considered, including mine.
I’d told Douglas—and Alex—that her inheritance and her last name didn’t mean shit to me. I wasn’t doing this for her money. I would never touch a cent of it even if she got access to it. I had plenty of my own and more coming in by the day.
Throwing my hat in the ring for her hand like this was because I couldn’t stomach the idea of her being married off to a man she didn’t want—and maybe also because I couldn’t stomach the thought of losing her.
Yeah, it’s mostly that.
Finally, she lifted her eyes to mine. They were wide, scared, and conflicted, and it hit me so damn hard how unfair this was to her. How much I wished there was another way.
“Can I talk to Trent alone?” she asked softly.
Alex didn’t hesitate. “Of course, but make it quick. We really don’t have much time.”
He stepped out without another word, closing the office door behind him. Silence blanketed the room as soon as he was gone and I tried to prepare myself. I wanted her, and if I had to marry her to get a chance, then so be it, but it took two to tango and she hadn’t said yes once.
Even though I’d already asked her, what, three or four times by now?
“Okay,” I said quietly. “I’m listening.”
Charlotte stared at me like she was trying to visualize all the ways this could go wrong. Her hands were clenched in her lap, twisting and trembling, and when she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.
“You shouldn’t do this on my account, Trent.”
I stayed still, wanting to let her say everything she needed to say. Lest I be accused of not knowing what she wanted again.
