Page 9 of Meddling with a Millionaire

“Last Valentine’s Day, I gave you a year to find someone to marry. That time is almost up, and you haven’t settled on anyone. So I found someone for you.”

“I don’t want to marry Nathan.” Her father and Nathan were evenly matched in stubbornness, arrogance and lack of concern about her feelings in this matter. “In fact, he’s the last man in the world I would pick to marry.”

Her father frowned at her aggrieved tone. “That’s not the impression I got from the conversation between you and Jaime at Christmas.”

Emma groaned. As if this entire night wasn’t humiliating enough, now she’d learned that her father had overheard her telling her sister-in-law about leaving Grant’s party with Nathan and what had happened afterwards?

“You were eavesdropping?”

“You weren’t exactly keeping your voices down.”

“I thought we were alone in the house.”

“I came back to get some papers.” Her father’s handsome face reflected little compassion. He was dealing with her with the same ruthless determination he brought to all his business dealings. “I know you’ve liked Nathan for a long time. I remember how you behaved when he used to visit from college.

So did she. Emma’s cheeks burned. “I was sixteen. I didn’t know what I wanted.”

“And now you’re twenty-eight. It’s time you figured that out.” Her father tugged on his cuffs, signaling the end of the discussion. “Nathan will make a good husband for you.”

“I don’t love him. He doesn’t love me.”

“But he will marry you.”

“Because you’re blackmailing him the same way you’re blackmailing me.” The edges of Emma’s vision began to darken. She focused on her father’s bow tie to keep from being swallowed up by helplessness. “Don’t do this. It’s not fair to either of us.”

“You need someone to take care of you. Nathan is the man to do it.”

“I don’t need someone to take care of me.”

“Yes, you do. You’ve never worked, and because you’ve never earned your own money, you spend without thought. I hate to think what would happen if you weren’t limited by an allowance. And from what Cody tells me, your loft in Houston is a disaster. I’ve looked out for you for twenty-eight years, it’s time I turn the job over to your husband.”

Her loft wasn’t a disaster. It just needed a master bathroom, a new kitchen, all new wiring and plumbing. She’d bought it shortly before she’d lost access to her trust fund. Her jewelry business barely covered her necessities. She had nothing left for remodeling.

“I don’t need a husband. I can take care of myself. My jewelry business is taking off.” A major exaggeration, but necessary if she was going to convince her father to give up on marrying her off.

“How much do you have left of the $100,000 I gave you last February?”

“Most of it.” Emma refused to be more specific. She’d been in denial the first few months after being cut off and hadn’t yet learned to be frugal. Giving an accurate number would reinforce her father’s opinion about her frivolous spending.

“More like two-thirds of it,” her father countered.

A mad, ridiculous notion sparked. “What if I had all of it?”

Her challenge ignited a speculative look in her father’s eye. He loved making deals. “What do you mean?”

Yes, what did she mean? She wanted to retract her words, but it was too late. Backing down now would only give her father more reason to think she was flighty. “You say I can’t take care of myself and earn a living. I say you’re wrong.” Emma gathered a deep breath and plunged forward. “What if I replace the entire hundred thousand by Valentine’s Day?”

“How are you going to do that in six weeks?” Her father laughed.

“By selling my jewelry.”

He shook his head. “You’ll never do it. You’re good at spending money, not making it. You don’t have the drive to work hard and succeed.”

Her heart constricted. Paralyzed by his scornful words, she felt smothered by all the mistakes she’d made in her life. Was it too late for her to change how her father perceived her? And what if she didn’t try? It was either a loveless marriage to Nathan or learning to live on what she earned. Both sounded dreadful.

“But if I do,” she persisted, her voice strengthening as her determination grew, “will you give me back my trust fund?”

Her father snorted. “I’ve seen the balance in your account. You won’t be able to put the money back.”

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