Trust Fund Fiance - Naima Simone Page 0,63

discrimination. I wanted better for you...because I love you so much.

“I guess you could call it an obsession of mine—making sure you were all right. Especially after the pregnancy when you were sixteen. I felt so...helpless. My baby girl was hurting, had been taken advantage of, and I felt like I’d failed in protecting you. And I know I didn’t handle the situation right. I don’t regret paying off that boy because he was no good for you, but I do regret that in the middle of my pain and powerlessness I made you feel like I didn’t love you anymore. That somehow you were less in my eyes. When in truth, I wanted to wrap you up and shield you more.”

He paused, then shifted, his profile facing her as he stared out the huge picture window. The view of Pine Valley was lovely, but she doubted he saw it. And she couldn’t focus on anything but her father and the words that both hurt and healed.

“Since I failed in protecting you—”

“Dad, that’s just not true,” Reagan objected fiercely.

He shook his head, holding up a hand. “To me, I didn’t do my job as your father. All I wanted for you was a life where you didn’t experience that ever again. If something should happen to me tomorrow, I wouldn’t have to worry because I’d know you were taken of. Which, for me, meant a husband who could provide for you, care for you, insulate you with his name, his wealth and connections so you wouldn’t ever know being poor, disdained or abandoned. Never know mistreatment or mishandling of your precious heart again.

“But nearly losing you because of my own agenda and shortsightedness revealed to me that I took it too far. I was so concerned with you being hurt by society, by this world, that I ended up being the one who hurt you. In my drive to protect you out of love, I forgot compassion. Understanding. Forgiveness. Mercy. All of those are elements of the love I touted. I also forgot that struggle often shapes a person, makes them stronger. It helps us be better. And while I detest what you went through, it did make you into a better, stronger person, and...” He shifted back to her and tears glistened in his eyes. “I love you. And I’m proud of you.”

He lifted his arms, slowly opening them to her, and without hesitation she flew into them.

And in that moment, as her arms wrapped around his waist, her cheek pressed to his chest, the sixteen-year-old girl and the adult woman converged into one. “I love you, too, Dad.”

Seventeen

“What the hell?” Ezekiel stared at the email from his personal accountant. More specifically, the numbers inside the email. There were a shit ton of zeroes in that number. “This can’t be...”

But even as he murmured the objection, he reread the message again, and there it was in black and white.

He was a millionaire.

For the first time since Reagan walked away from him and out of his house, he felt something other than a pain-infused grief. Like a death. Only difference, there wasn’t a tombstone to visit.

You did the right thing. The only thing you could do.

He repeated the reminder that had become a refrain in his head over the last week. Whenever he teetered on the edge of giving in, yelling, “Fuck this,” and going after her, he remembered that he was doing what was best for her.

Best for you.

The taunt whispered across his mind, and he flipped that voice a mental bird.

“What can’t be?” a familiar and unexpected voice asked.

Ezekiel jerked his head up and watched Luke close Ezekiel’s office door behind him and cross the floor to his desk. Even though the workday was only a couple of hours old, Luke had rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows, undone the top button, and his tie knot was loosened.

Concern momentarily overshadowed Ezekiel’s shock. No one in this company was working harder than Luke to save it. And it showed in the faint bruises under his brother’s eyes denoting lack of sleep, the hollowed cheekbones and firm lines bracketing his mouth.

“When was the last time you went home and had a decent night’s sleep?” Ezekiel demanded.

Luke dismissed his question with a flick of his hand. “What can’t be?” he repeated. “You receive some good news?”

“Yes,” Ezekiel said, struggling against badgering Luke into answering his question. Shaking his head, he shifted his attention from his brother’s weary