Romancing the Tycoon. Debra Webb
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Regina didn’t have to look to know that her father’s face had turned beet-red, she could hear his temper rising in his voice. He hated Kevin. Had hated all her boyfriends from the time she was fourteen and had developed breasts as well as a mind of her own.
Well, that was just too bad. He was not going to pick her husband. She would not be forced into an arranged marriage.
“If your mother were here, she’d tell you the same thing,” her father said more calmly. “Men like Martin are leeches—self-serving and uncaring about anyone but themselves. He isn’t nearly good enough for you. I hope you see that.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she lied again, just to get him off the subject. “I know that Kevin is scum. You don’t have to worry. He broke up with me anyhow.”
That much was the truth. Kevin had tired of the run-ins with her father and had opted to run out on her. She stiffened her spine against the unfairness of it all. And now her father wanted her to marry some cowboy just because he had the largest oil business in Texas. No way.
“You’re twenty-four, Regina. It’s time you settled down and took on the responsibilities of being a Winterborne. You will inherit everything I have worked my entire life to build and that my forefathers worked to build before me. If you’re not ready for that challenge, you might lose everything.”
Now that grabbed her attention. She looked at her father for the first time since the conversation began. “What do you mean I might lose everything?”
He shook his head sadly from side to side. “I had no choice but to make a codicil to my will. Unless I am fully convinced that you are prepared to take over the company and run it properly, the board of directors will run things as per my final instructions and you will receive a monthly allowance until such time that they deem you fit to take charge of the company.”
Horror burgeoned like a scream in her throat. “But…but,” she croaked, “how will I live?” Begging on a street corner flashed vividly through her mind. Dear God, he couldn’t be serious. His idea of an allowance was laughable at best. And those crusty old codgers on the board hated her!
“It doesn’t have to come to that,” he said pointedly. “All you have to do is trust me and you’ll have everything.”
The horror drained away leaving an almost blinding clarity. “In other words, if I marry this Texan I get everything…if I don’t I get a measly allowance.”
Indignation washed across her father’s pale, pudgy face. “Your allowance has never been measly!” The red started to rise up his neck once more. Oops! She’d hit a nerve with that one. “You have always, always gotten anything you asked for. I have never permitted you to want for anything.” Something in his expression changed and a new kind of fear crept up her spine. “Perhaps,” he suggested furiously, “that is part of the problem.”
“Daddy,” she wailed, suddenly sure of what he intended next, “you can’t seriously want me to marry a man I’ve never even met!” Even she wasn’t that impetuous.
Her father lifted one shaggy eyebrow in that condescending manner he’d always used with her when he actually wanted to turn her over his knee and spank her. But he never had, not once. “That’s precisely why we’re spending the weekend at his ranch. We’re going to get to know him and that is the end of the subject. If you wish to stay on my good side, you will do as I request.”
Do it or lose it, that was the bottom line. She could stay single and play all she wanted if she were willing to give up the fortune that, as the only Winterborne heir, she was fully entitled to. Or she could buckle under and marry some stranger who would probably boss her around just like her father did.
Wow, what a choice.
“I want you packed and ready to go in one hour,” he ordered. “I absolutely will not tolerate any grief either, young lady. You will behave yourself this weekend or you will be sorry. Is that clear?”
She stared directly into her father’s worried eyes. He loved her. She knew he did. In his mind he was only trying to save her from herself. She didn’t doubt for a moment his heart was in the right place, but that didn’t make her like it. Then there was the money to consider.
What good would her freedom be if she were perpetually broke?
“Yes, Daddy,” she said in the most obedient tone she could muster. “I’ll go pack.”
The telephone rang and her father hurried over to his desk to answer it. Regina peered out the window once more and tried to picture the bleakness of Texas. She despised long stretches of nothing. She was scared to death of horses. And she absolutely hated macho, arrogant men. How on earth was she supposed to survive on that stupid ranch even for a weekend?
The image of her birthright, billions of dollars, circling the proverbial drain and disappearing flashed in her mind’s eye. Okay, maybe she could survive it for just a little while.
“I’ll be right there,” she heard her father say, his tone urgent. She frowned. Where could he be going when they had to leave in just one hour? Before she could ask that very question, he skirted his desk and rushed over to her.
“The employees at one of the facilities have walked out, shutting down the whole operation. I’ve got to get over there and see if I can get this worked out. We can’t afford any bad publicity of any sort right now.”
In other words, her father didn’t want the cowboy to find out since it might give him pause.
“Of course,” she said, suddenly elated. This meant they didn’t have to go to Texas, which bought her a little more time to figure a way out of this. “I’m sure Mr. Calhoun will understand our postponing.” She resisted the urge to do a little end-zone victory dance. Hot dog! She was free for the weekend. Fireworks and all-night parties.
“Oh, no,” her father said, positively mortified at the very idea. “His private plane is already on its way to pick us up. You go on ahead of me. I’ll join the two of you as soon as I have this little misunderstanding worked out.” He gave her a pointed look. “Just don’t mention anything about it, all right, dear?”
Her hopes fizzled like a dud firecracker. “Fine,” she muttered. What else could she do? Her whole future depended on her cooperation. The way she saw it, the only choice she had was to try and figure out a way to send this cowboy running in another direction. If he chose not to marry her, then it certainly wouldn’t be her fault.
She smiled. Oh yeah, that could work. And her father wouldn’t be the wiser.
“OH, MY GOD,” Amy murmured as she stopped midway down the mile-long drive and admired the house that loomed before her. The Winterborne mansion was huge. Not just huge, she amended, palatial. That was it, she decided. It looked like an enormous castle with acres of magnificent gardens flanking it. The only thing missing was the moat.
Amy eased off the brake and rolled the rest of the way up the drive, past the elaborate fountain, choosing to park near the side of the grand house rather than up front. As she emerged from her car she noted that somehow her dilapidated old compact just wouldn’t look right at the bottom of those luxurious steps.
Suddenly conscious of her attire,