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Excerpt
Copyright 2024, Rochelle Allison
“He and Danny Deschamps made an agreement. If I marry Cole, all of Daddy’s debts to them will be canceled. And then they’ll pay off his other debts, too, because we’ll all be one big, happy family.” Her voice breaks, and she covers her face.
Anger ripples through me like a stormy sea, frustration crashing against the shores of my restraint. Evie’s being bartered off like chattel to cancel her father's debts? I knew that fucker was ruthless, but I never thought he’d stoop this low.
I squeeze her knee. “Your father can’t do that.” But he probably can. As bad as this is, I’ve seen worse. Men like Randall Doyle will do whatever it takes to cover their own asses. Even sacrifice the people they’re supposed to be protecting.
“He can, Tristan.” She’s breathing choppily, like she’s on the brink of hyperventilating. “I tried to talk him out of it, but he just got madder and madder. I live on his property … I have nowhere else to go. And even if I did leave, he’d find me. This is a small town—he knows everyone, and so do the Deschamps.” She looks up at me, her bright eyes wet and panicked.
“Is this why you avoided my calls today?” I shift to look at her, struggling to keep my voice even. “You should’ve told me right away.” Evie marrying Cole would be a disaster. Not only would it completely fuck our plans to take over Doyle’s distillery, but it would also bind Evie to someone she hates.
“Why, so you could counterattack?” Her eyes narrow, even as tears spill from them. “I wasn’t thinking about you, okay? I have enough shit to deal with on my own.”
She’s not totally wrong, but she doesn’t realize how much I actually care. About her, not just the distillery. “You’re not marrying that asshole, okay?”
Evie's lower lip trembles. “Once my father makes a deal, there's no going back.”
“He doesn't own you," I snap. “You're a person, not property. And that distillery is mine.”
“But—”
“Don’t underestimate me. You have no idea what I’m willing to do,” I say softly, gripping her chin. “What I want to know is, what are you willing to do?”
She blinks as my hand slides away. “Anything,” she whispers.
“We’ve known each other for a long time, Evie, and despite all of this bullshit, you do know me,” I say. “Do you trust me?”
It takes a long time, but eventually she gives me a single nod.
“Then marry me instead.”
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