“It isn’t what I think I know,” she shot back. “That man in there intentionally seduced an innocent girl and got her pregnant just so he could worm his way into a wealthy family. Considering our family history, you would think impregnating a girl would be at the top of your unworthy traits list,” she sneered.
“Lower your voice this instant,” he ordered, once more glancing around them. And that tore through her like a red-hot sword. Of course. They couldn’t chance anyone overhearing about their shameful family secret. “Wasn’t it you who told me I shouldn’t listen to rumors and conjecture?”
“Rumors?” She released a jagged bark of laughter. “It’s not an opinion that he used Julie Wheeler only to abandon her. It’s not opinion that he tried to do the exact same thing with Beth Wingate. Ask Camden Guthrie or Bruce Wheeler. I promise you they will confirm that Justin McCoy’s complete lack of a moral compass is a fact. After all, it was Cam’s dead wife and Bruce’s daughter he betrayed.”
“It is my job as your father to decide what is best for you, Reagan. And I might have failed once but never again,” he ground out.
Had she thought he’d hurt her before? No, this...this was pain. Having him affirm that he believed he’d failed—that she’d been a failure.
Her breath shuddered out of her, and she blinked back the sting of hot tears.
She loved her father, but at this moment, he disappointed her just as she surely disappointed him. Douglas thought the purse strings controlled her, had kept her obedient and quiet for all these years. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. Longing for his approval had. For her mother’s, too, but more so his. There was no turning back the hands of time to that innocent period when she’d been a daddy’s girl. She might never have what she desperately craved from him. The only difference between now and an hour ago was that she no longer cared.
“And the fact that you would believe he is a better man, a more suitable man than Ezekiel Holloway stuns and disheartens me.” She shook her head. “I love you, Dad, but I’m not going along with this anymore. I know you want what’s best for me, but you’ve never asked me what that is. You don’t care. And that saddens me even more.”
She turned and walked away from him. And even when he called her name, she didn’t stop.
She was through answering to him.
From now on, she would only answer to herself.
“Mr. Holloway, Reagan Sinclair is here to see you.”
Ezekiel jerked his head up from studying a report at his executive assistant’s announcement through the telephone’s intercom. Alarm blared inside him, and he shot up from his chair, already rounding the desk and stalking toward the office door. There had been no communication between them since he and Reagan had broken off their engagement. What had happened to make her end the radio silence now?
Before he reached the doo
r, it swung open and Reagan stepped in. The impact of her after weeks of not seeing her halted him midstride. Jesus, had he really somehow forgotten how beautiful she was? Or had he just tried to convince himself she wasn’t so he could stop thinking about her? Either way, the attempt had been an epic fail.
He’d missed everything about her—her laugh, her quiet way of listening, the cultured yet sensual husky tone of her voice, her scent...her friendship. And hell yes, he’d missed just looking at her. Today, her sleeveless wrap dress molded to her slim but curvaceous figure like a secret admirer, and damn him, but he was jealous of the material that cupped her lovely breasts, slid over the flare of her hips and glided down those slender, perfect thighs. His fingers itched to follow the same paths, to explore that uncharted territory for himself. And to stake his claim.
But she wasn’t his anymore. Not even for pretend.
What had been unattainable before had become even more of an impossibility.
Forcing his unruly thoughts and wayward body under control, he demanded, “Reagan, what’re you doing here?” The worry at the obvious distress in her eyes and the slightly jerky movement in her normally smooth gait roughened his voice. “What’s wrong?”
“Marry me.”
He stared at her, struck speechless. Dozens of questions bombarded him, and he mentally waded through them, finally settling on the most important one. “What?”
“Marry me,” she repeated, closing the short distance between them, not stopping until her hands fisted the lapels of his suit jacket, her thighs braced against his and that honeysuckle scent embraced him like a long-lost lover.
He swallowed a groan at her nearness, at the feel of her body pressed to his. Lust, hot and hungry, punched him in the gut, then streamed through him in a swollen flood. Desperate to place distance between them so he could fucking think, he gripped her hips to set her away from him. But touching her backfired. Instead of pushing her back, he held her close, his body rebelling and taking control. Two weeks. It’d been two long weeks.
“Reagan,” he rumbled.
“No, Zeke. Don’t give me all the reasons why we shouldn’t. I don’t care. Do you know where I just came from?” she asked, switching topics with a lightning speed that left him floundering. Between that and his dick finding cushion against her stomach, he couldn’t keep up. “I just left a restaurant where my father arranged for me to have lunch with Justin McCoy.”
“The hell?” His grip on her tightened. Douglas had set her up with that asshole?
“Yes.” Reagan nodded as if reading his mind. “Apparently my father considered him a more suitable match than you. A man who uses and throws away women for his own gain rather than you, a man who has been nothing but honorable and unfailingly kind and respectful. I had enough. I walked away from him and his machinations. I’m through allowing him to run my life, to make choices for me out of guilt and loyalty.”
Guilt? What the hell did that mean?
Shoving the questions aside for the moment, he refocused on her. “I understand your anger, believe me, I do, but take a moment and think this through before you make a mistake you can’t take back. This decision will cost you your inheritance. It could damage your relationship with your parents. Is this rebellion worth that? Because you’re not in...” He couldn’t finish that sentence. Couldn’t fathom it.
“No, Zeke, I’m not in love with you,” she assured him, and he exhaled a heavy breath. Even as an unidentifiable emotion twisted in his chest. “And maybe this is a little bit of rebellion on my part, but it’s so much more. I’m taking control—of my choices, my mind, my life. I respect you, Zeke. But this isn’t about you. It’s about me. About finally becoming the woman I’ve been too afraid to own. So, from now on, I’m making my own decisions,” she continued. “And that includes you. I choose you, Zeke. And I want you to marry me.”