Page 41 of Tempted By the Broken Cowboy
It’s not fair that his choices hold the keys to my future, but that’s the reality. I’ve spent too long climbing, too long proving myself in boardrooms full of men who smirk at my last name and assume my father paved my way. If Beck gives up, they’ll be right about me—that I’m nothing but wasted potential and family connections.
I can’t let that happen. Not after how much I’ve sacrificed to prove otherwise.
So when Beck looks at me, steady and resolute, I feel something shift in my chest. Gratitude, yes, but also a flare of determination that matches his. If he’s ready to fight for his second chance, then I’ll fight twice as hard. For him. For me. For everything riding on this.
I nod once, trying to disguise the gratitude threatening to soften my composure. “Good. Then we get back to work as of tomorrow.”
“I look forward to it,” he nods, and I can tell that he’s not lying or pretending.
I’m about to respond when my phone vibrates in my pocket, slicing through the moment. I retrieve it, and the name flashing across the screen knots my stomach. Dad.
I almost let it go to voicemail, but that would only make things worse. With a shaky breath, I swipe to answer.
“Quinn.” His voice is clipped, businesslike, not a trace of warmth.
“Father,” I respond, matching his tone.
Beck raises an eyebrow at me for my shift in mood, so I give him a quick reassuring smile. Unlike him, I don’t have the luxury of a warm, loving family.
“Your mother is worried—you haven’t called her since you left,” he attacks.
Of course he’s not personally worried about me. Mother probably forced him to make this call. They hate that I’m not under their roof to control and manipulate as they wish.
“I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“Okay. Do you have anything to report?”
“No.”
I hear him intake a deep breath. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”
I force a smile he can’t see, my voice pitched steady. “Forgot what?”
“The budget meeting.” There’s the rustle of papers in the background, a familiar sound of his office at home. “The fundraiser numbers have to be finalized. It’s your report, Quinn. I need you in that boardroom.”
For a moment, I squeeze my eyes shut, guilt pricking hard. When I left home, I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. They would have locked me in my room if they found out I was moving in with the Morgans. They hate this family, especially Beck, who I’ve been spending most of my time with.
I made up an excuse about needing time away to gather the required funds. In their minds, they think I’m off somewhere corporate, working deals to get the investment that I need. They are not halfway wrong, but I know they don’t expect me to be here, holed up at Iron Stallion, in enemy territory.
“I’ll be there,” I say quickly, maybe too quickly. “I’ve been… gathering the last pieces. I’ll be ready.”
He falls silent, then sighs again, heavy, disappointed. “You always were a dreamer. I hope you’re finally learning to put that aside. The board expects results, not excuses.”
My throat tightens. I hate lying. I hate that if he knew the truth, if any of them knew, I’d be crucified for setting foot on Morgan land, let alone living here.
“I’ll have it,” I promise, pushing steel into my tone, even as my pulse thunders. “Trust me, Dad. You’ll get what you need.”
“You’d better,” he replies, not unkind but firm enough to leave no space for doubt. “We can’t afford missteps.”
The line clicks dead, and I stare at the phone a moment longer, my pulse still racing.
I slip the phone into my pocket and glance at Beck again. He’s waiting, maybe curious, maybe oblivious to just how many strings are pulling me in different directions. To him, this is about clawing back his reputation, silencing whispers, and regaining a little dignity. For me, it’s so much bigger.
If he falters, I fail. If I fail, the Morgans close their doors. And if the Morgans turn me away, my father will finally be proven right—that I was never cut out for this, that my ambitions were always too loud, too reckless.
The pressure presses in from every side—Beck depending on me, my career balanced on an investor’s approval, my family’s expectations like iron chains around my neck. For a second, it threatens to crush me.
But then I straighten, breathing through the weight. Failure isn’t an option. Not for me. Not for him. Not now.
