Entangled With The Heiress (Louisiana Legacies Book 1) Read online

  He has ulterior motives...

  but so does she.

  While gaining the heiress’s trust,

  will he lose all self-control?

  Hired to go undercover and discredit the widow of a millionaire philanthropist, investigator Rhett Brannon is torn. With her vulnerability and dedication to her late husband’s legacy, Trinity Hyatt doesn’t fit his preconceptions of a gold digger. Even so, Rhett is determined to get to the truth behind her intentions. But will his growing attraction to Trinity destroy everything they’re both fighting for?

  “Trinity, whatever it is, just tell me.”

  “Michael’s aunt and uncle’s court case has nothing to do with the businesses.”

  “How so?” Rhett asked.

  “Those might help them. But that’s not why they want the inheritance.”

  She turned to a gorgeous portrait of a house. Despite the grandeur of the building, Rhett felt the promise of protection within its walls. A small name plate confirmed this was Maison de Jardin.

  “Whoever gains control of Michael’s inheritance doesn’t just gain his place on the board of the businesses. They gain control over the charity, with nothing to mitigate their decisions.”

  “There’s no board for the charity?”

  Trinity shook her head. “There are no checks and balances, so they could do with Maison de Jardin whatever they want. There would be no one to stop them.”

  “From doing what?”

  “What they’ve wanted all along...to sell Maison de Jardin to the highest bidder.”

  * * *

  Entangled with the Heiress by Dani Wade

  is part of the Louisiana Legacies series.

  Dear Reader,

  I’ll admit that my heroine in Entangled with the Heiress, Trinity Hyatt, ends up in a situation that few of us ever would. She marries her best friend and ends up a widow before they can even announce their marriage. She knows all about the challenges in life and feels she owes her friend everything after he rescued her and her mother from an abusive home.

  Living with suspicions and dispersions on all sides might make a woman give up, but Trinity is one of the rare few with a purpose. I’m so proud of her for standing up for herself and the abused women in her care. I hope her determination to build a life of meaning despite the abuse she was subjected to as a child inspires you in some way, as it has me.

  Please enjoy my new Louisiana Legacies series.

  I love to hear from my readers! You can email me at [email protected] or follow me on Facebook. As always, news about my releases is easiest to find through my author newsletter, which you can sign up for from my website at www.daniwade.com.

  Enjoy!

  Dani

  Dani Wade

  Entangled with the Heiress

  Dani Wade astonished her local librarians as a teenager when she carried home ten books every week—and actually read them all. Now she writes her own characters, who clamor for attention in the midst of the chaos that is her life. Residing in the southern United States with her husband, two kids, two dogs and one grumpy cat, she stays busy until she can closet herself away with her characters once more.

  Books by Dani Wade

  Harlequin Desire

  Milltown Millionaires

  A Bride’s Tangled Vows

  The Blackstone Heir

  The Renegade Returns

  Expecting His Secret Heir

  Savannah Sisters

  Taming the Billionaire

  Son of Scandal

  Louisiana Legacies

  Entangled with the Heiress

  Visit her Author Profile page at Harlequin.com, or daniwade.com, for more titles.

  You can also find Dani Wade on Facebook, along with other Harlequin Desire authors, at Facebook.com/harlequindesireauthors.

  This book is dedicated to my daughter, Nicole, who is finding her purpose and passions in life just like Trinity. I’m proud of the woman you have become, but you’ll always be my little curly-headed “baby girl.” Go forth and conquer!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Excerpt from The Case for Temptation by Robyn Grady

  One

  Trinity Hyatt walked down the museum hallway, keeping her steps light on the tile floor as if she were a child trying to sneak past her parents. As if the sound of the gala from the west wing wouldn’t cover her brief getaway.

  She just needed a moment, a moment away from the speculative gazes and prying questions. A moment to breathe...

  But then she thought back to the headline she’d seen when she turned on her computer this morning.

  Suspicious Marriage Threatens

  Local Jobs

  That damn blogger... Her mother had drilled into her growing up that using profanity was only for the uneducated, but Trinity had found its occasional use more than satisfying as an adult. Since the mental slip was the only form of anger Trinity allowed herself, she hoped her mother forgave her this time.

  Didn’t the anonymous columnist understand how much words hurt? Not to mention how the photograph that accompanied the story made Trinity relive the moment standing beside Michael’s grave as half the country watched and ultimately judged her. Why couldn’t her online tormentor see the grief on her face? Why couldn’t this person tell her tears were genuine?

  Trinity locked away the memories of the painful whispering and curious stares during tonight’s charity gala, brought on by today’s post. Instead she tried to focus on her momentary solitude in one of her favorite places in New Orleans.

  So many memories from the familiar hallways of the ASTRA Museum flitted through her overtaxed mind, bringing a welcome peace. She remembered holding her mother’s hand as they walked in the blessed quiet, without worry over someone yelling at them or telling them to leave because they didn’t fit in because they were too poor. The museum had been open without cost every Saturday. They’d often made the trip across town on the bus to spend a few hours away from her screaming father, looking at the paintings and sculptures, appreciating the beauty that drew them even though they knew nothing about art.

  Later, Michael had wandered these halls with her, filling her mind with stories of the artists and the sometimes harrowing journeys the pieces went through before coming to be displayed in the Southern United States.

  They were both gone now, to Trinity’s never-ending grief. But she tucked it down inside and locked it away, because Michael had left her with a very important job to do. And she would. She would step back out into the charity event with her head high and represent her best friend and everything he’d worked so hard to build.

  But for just a moment, she needed peace and calm to surround her.

  A twinge of guilt stole through her as she reflected on her husband...though it was still hard to think of him as such. Ten years her senior, Michael Hyatt had been her friend and mentor of sorts for a long time. Then th
ey’d barely been married a week. She had trouble accepting that he was gone, though the explosive crash of his private helicopter had taken him from her just a little over six weeks ago.

  The ache he’d left behind weighed on her day and night.

  Coming to a standstill in front of a hundred-year-old painting of a peasant woman holding her infant son, Trinity stared at the muted colors. Her vision blurred, the familiar details disappearing as her brain simply drifted. Even the ache this particular portrait always evoked inside her remained subdued. Children were another part of her life to be mourned, and she didn’t want to handle that tonight.

  When her eyes felt too full, she let her lids close, ignoring the solitary tear that flowed down her cheek.

  “She looks happy... At peace, wouldn’t you say? Despite what must be hard life circumstances.”

  Startled to hear an echo of her own past thoughts on this particular painting, Trinity turned. She hadn’t heard anyone approach. But the man now standing beside her took her very breath away.

  His dark hair had a touch of premature silver at each temple. The color echoed the cool gray of his irises, which had subtle green striations. His bearing was distinguished enough that he fit into the elegant surroundings of the museum, but he didn’t have the soft edges that a lifetime of high living gave many men in this world. Head and shoulders taller than her own average height, he left Trinity feeling dwarfed. He filled out his tux just enough to hint at muscle without too much bulk.

  His gaze dropped to her cheek, leaving Trinity uncomfortably aware of the cool air over her moist skin. As casually as she could manage, she wiped the tear away. He didn’t mention what he’d seen.

  The very look of him mesmerized her even more than the paintings. An embarrassingly long moment drew out before she could force herself to breathe in a long drink of air, then she offered a small nod. “Yes, I’ve always thought so.”

  For the briefest instant, a surprised expression crossed his features. She noticed a faint lifting of one dark brow, so quick she wondered if it had even happened.

  Trinity stiffened. The question of whether or not he was a reporter hadn’t occurred to her, but having seen that same expression on the faces of the people who hounded her day in and day out, she couldn’t help but wonder. Had he followed her here on purpose?

  Having swallowed the story that she’d been raised in a rural, strictly religious household, most press hounds didn’t expect her to speak with a cultured accent or intelligent words. After all, she had to be a money-hungry hick to have come from obscurity to inherit the entire Hyatt fortune. It was the very image that Michael’s family had painted of her.

  That idea sold more stories, more of the candid pictures they hunted her down for. They didn’t want to look for the truth, the deeper truth of who she was, of what she’d survived.

  But the man’s expression disappeared so quickly that Trinity wondered if she was just being paranoid because of her current situation. Now his cool gaze trailed down her sapphire gown, one of the few Michael had personally picked out for her. For once, Trinity wasn’t left feeling vulnerable and exposed. Instead a small wave of unexpected heat flowed over her.

  “Needed a little breather from the party?” he asked quietly.

  Though it was probably a banal piece of small talk, Trinity was shaken at how much it echoed her own thoughts. She tried to brush it off. “These things do tend to get a little stuffy at times.”

  “I agree. In many ways.”

  Goodness, that grin reached all the way to the core of her. Something Trinity had never experienced before...and wasn’t really comfortable experiencing now.

  To her relief, his gaze moved past her to the elaborate cream-and-gold walls of the rotunda, pausing at each of the twelve specially chosen pieces displayed permanently within this space. “This isn’t just peaceful. It’s unique. Gorgeous,” he said, his voice deepening in a way that sent a tingle down her spine.

  What was wrong with her tonight?

  “You’ve never been here before?” she asked to fill the silence.

  Part of her was resentful that this man, and the sensations he seemed to be calling to the surface, had interrupted her time in this special space. The other part of her couldn’t quell the fascination that kept popping up in unexpected, uninvited ways.

  I’m a widow, dang it. A recent one.

  Unaware of her inner turmoil, the man answered, “No. This is my first time. My first time in New Orleans, actually.” 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.