Entangled With The Heiress. Dani Wade
He held out a hand. “I’m Rhett Butler. Nice to meet you.”
Trinity felt her mouth drop open in a most unladylike way. “Seriously?”
“No,” he said, flashing another hundred-watt smile, “actually my name is Rhett Brannon. But when in the South…”
Stinker. “That’s good. I was beginning to think your parents had a strange sense of humor.” Not that his dark good looks and riveting charisma wouldn’t allow him to double for Rhett Butler.
Something deep inside warned her not to make nice. The outstretched hand reminded her of a snake she knew was dangerous. It caused a combination of fascination and fear in her suspicious brain. She couldn’t risk one misstep in the game Michael had begged her to play.
She stretched her hand out and politely shook. “Thank you. I’m Trinity, Trinity—Hyatt.”
Her hesitation was automatic. Even after almost two months, she had a hard time grasping that her last name had changed, that there was now a paramount need to present herself as Michael’s wife. He had counted on her. The charity counted on her. She had to do the right thing.
“Trinity, huh?” Rhett said, not showing any recognition of who she was. Was he simply a good actor? Or did he really not know? “That’s an interesting name, too.”
Definitely. “My mother was highly religious.” She let a small smile stretch her lips. “I’ve always wondered if it was a reminder to me. To never forget the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.”
“And have you?”
She was startled enough to answer honestly. “Some days are easier than others.”
The rueful grin that stretched his lips fascinated her more than it should have. “I can agree with that,” he said.
A small silence fell, bringing with it that uncomfortable sense of awareness of his masculinity and presence. It only eased a little as he motioned for them to stroll farther around the rotunda.
At least she didn’t have to look directly into those mesmerizing eyes. But the silence didn’t sit well with her. “So what brings you to NOLA?” she asked.
“Business. Some people I’ll be working with brought me along tonight.”
“Generous of them.”
His grunt could have been a confirmation, but she suspected she heard a bit of skepticism behind the sound.
“Are you here with your husband?”
Surprise shot through her, until her quick glance found his gaze resting on the band encircling her ring finger, the tiny cluster of emeralds and diamonds twinkling in the lights from above. “No,” she murmured. “I’m a widow.”
It still felt weird saying it out loud. It still felt strange to realize she and Michael had been married. For her, it had essentially been a business proposition—with infinite benefits considering the fortune she stood to inherit. And a favor to the man who had been her best friend, even if it had turned out to be the hardest job she’d ever faced.
And she faced it alone, now that Michael was gone.
Rhett cocked his head to the side, an obvious question in his expression.
“My…husband, Michael Hyatt, passed away recently in an accident.”
Rhett’s nod was slow and sage. “Yes, I believe I heard about that. Helicopter accident, wasn’t it? Very sad.”
Of course, he would have heard of it. Michael had not just been a lifelong friend and the owner of the charity Trinity had run for him, he’d also been a wildly successful, multimillion-dollar businessman. The question was, what else had he heard?
As if he sensed her subtle withdrawal, Rhett paused to meet her gaze head on. There was nowhere for her to hide. “Please accept my sincere condolences for your loss.”
Startled, she felt pinned by both his look and his words. His wasn’t one of the trite I’m sorrys that preceded the endless questions she wished she never had to answer again.
“Thank you,” she said simply.
“You’re welcome.” A smaller version of his grin appeared, but dang if it wasn’t just as charming.
For a moment, Trinity found herself drifting, wishing she wasn’t Michael’s widow, wasn’t the most talked-about person in New Orleans at the moment, and was simply a woman who could respond to that smile without a worry in the world.
But she wasn’t. Time ticked inside her head, counting off the seconds until someone realized she was missing from the elite crowd.
“I really should be getting back,” she said. Someone had surely noticed she was gone by now. Especially Michael’s aunt and uncle. They didn’t miss a move that she made.
And neither did the press.
Defeat weighed down on her as she remembered reading today’s post and photos on the NOLA Secrets & Scandals blog. She’d never have noticed it on her own. Jenny, her secretary, had pointed it out. The hints about a money-hungry widow threatening the livelihoods of countless families gave her an idea of what information the author had hunted down, but not an idea of when the full story would hit… As if Trinity didn’t have enough to stress her out.
Didn’t anyone understand that she shared the questions—and fears—about how her husband’s death and the lawsuit filed against his estate by his aunt and uncle would affect the business’s 50,000-person global workforce?
She assured herself time and again that she was carrying out Michael’s wishes. But she had to wonder what he’d been thinking to put a global empire and the fate of that many people under the direction of a charity program director like herself. Still, despite her many misgivings, she never let her worries surface in public. There were too many people eager to use them against her.
Though the question haunted her night after night, she was determined to do her very best by all of them…including Michael.
But those worries were nothing compared to the butterflies in her stomach and unfamiliar heat in her core caused by the man walking by her side. “Yes, I definitely need to get back.”
“But we’re just getting to know—”
Trinity sped up, snagging her shoe in her dress in her clumsy attempt to get away. She tripped and flung out her hand to catch herself.
Without warning, she found herself engulfed in musky male scent and heat. Her body froze, but her instincts knew exactly what they wanted. She breathed deep, sucking in the hint of cologne and the savory scent of him, imprinting his essence on her lungs.
Immediately guilt snaked through her. She pushed against his arms, needing to be free. But he didn’t release her until she was once again steady on her feet.
“Please don’t,” she gasped, recognizing her response to him with rising fear. Attraction by itself, let alone to a man she knew nothing about, was the last thing she needed in her life.
Unfazed by her protests, Rhett simply arched a brow as he pulled back. “I assumed from our talk that you didn’t care for a crowd.”
Puzzled, she said, “Yes?”
“Well, if your hand had hit right there—” his gaze turned to the wall where she would have landed, right on the frame of one of the beloved portraits in the rotunda “—then you would have set off the alarm and brought a whole load of people running.”
And caused an epic scene being found in the arms of another man six weeks after her husband’s death. Her cheeks burned as she imagined it. She quickly covered them with her palms. What a nightmare.
“Thank you,” she choked out, unable to look up into Rhett’s gray-green gaze.
But he was having none of that. He tucked firm fingers under her chin