Page 65

I nearly choked on my wine. Heat flooded my cheeks. “Dad.”

Leanne, the traitor, was biting back a grin, eyes sparkling with pure entertainment. She loved this.

Richard didn’t miss a beat. He set his fork down calmly, meeting my father’s gaze with that cool, collected confidence that always calmed me. “My intentions are serious, Henry. I care about Samantha deeply. I want to be someone who supports her, respects her, and builds something real with her…if she’ll have me.”

Henry studied him for a long moment, then gave a small nod. “Good to hear. She deserves nothing less.”

The conversation shifted, but my father wasn’t finished. He took a slow sip of wine before continuing. “I heard you stepped into some very large shoes recently. Kincaid Holdings is no small operation. How do you plan to balance running an empire like that with making time for my daughter? She’s not the type to play second fiddle to board meetings.”

Richard’s expression remained neutral, respectful. “I don’t intend for her to. The company is important, but Samantha is a priority. I’ve already begun delegating more operational responsibilities to trusted leadership. Some things matter more than being in every room.”

Leanne nudged my foot under the table, clearly thrilled by the unfolding interrogation. I wanted to sink under the table.

My father leaned forward a little, pressing gently but relentlessly. “And your background… you’re young for this kind of responsibility. Most men in your position would be more focused on expanding their own influence. What makes you different?”

“I’ve watched my father expand everything he’d inherited,” Richard replied. “I’m not interested in playing games, Henry. I’m interested in building something lasting. Both in business and personally.”

My father considered that, his eyes narrowing just slightly in that way I knew too well. “Admirable words. But words are easy when the spotlight’s on you. Actions are what count.”

“I agree,” Richard said. “Which is why I’m here. Not for appearances.”

My father nodded once, as if filing the answer away. Then, after a beat of silence he said, “I was very sorry to hear about your parents. Leonard and Catherine were well respected. Carbon monoxide poisoning… that’s a very unfortunate accident. But also very fortunate for you, in a sense. You’ve inherited a great deal.”

The insinuation hung in the air. My stomach twisted.

“Dad,” I said sharply, my voice tight with embarrassment and anger. “That’s completely out of line.”

Leanne’s grin had faded, she glanced between us, suddenly more serious.

Richard remained perfectly calm. He looked at my father without defensiveness. “No, I understand. It’s a reasonable thing to think, given the circumstances. The family house had needed renovations on that old system for a while, and my father just never got it done. It’s unfortunate what happened.”

The table was quiet for a second.

Then my father exhaled, his expression softening. “You’re right. That was uncalled for. I apologize, Richard. Old habits. Protecting my daughter makes me meaner than I should be.”

Richard nodded once, gracious. “No offense taken. I’d ask the same questions if I had a daughter.”

My father paused, then smiled. “Good answer.”

Leanne leaned toward me and whispered, “He is annoyingly composed.”

The tension slowly eased after that. I watched Richard across the table handling my father’s scrutiny with the same quiet strength he brought to everything. And despite the embarrassment, despite the brief spike of anger at my dad, something warm settled in my chest.

He was here. He was handling it.

By dessert, Leanne had made him laugh twice, my father had offered him a cigar, and I felt foolish for ever worrying.

After dinner, my father led Richard into the study to show him an old framed photograph from a charity gala Leonard Kincaid had attended with him. Richard followed with his wineglass in hand. As the staff began clearing the table, Leanne and I took our drinks into the sunroom at the back of the house.

“You like him?” I asked as I sat beside her on the sofa.

Leanne tucked one leg beneath her and rested her glass against her knee. “I do.”

I glanced at her. “That sounded cautious.”

“I like him for you.” She gave me a softer smile. “He’s polite. He listens. He looks at you like you are the only person in the room, which is either romantic or a future problem. For tonight, I am choosing romantic.”

I laughed, though my stomach tightened a little. “That is the most Leanne approval I have ever heard.”