Free The Tycoon's Socialite Bride (Entangled Indulgence) by Tracey Livesay

isn’t on board.”
    She flinched. No woman should have to hear that sentiment once, let alone twice. “The Senator only cares about the family name. Even if he doesn’t approve of you, he’s not going to let other people know he doesn’t trust my judgment.”
    “You’re sure?”
    She was. “Yes.”
    “Are you willing to bet the women’s shelter on it?”
    She sucked in a quick breath. This was the other side of the man who’d flirted with her on the golf course and comforted her when she needed it. This man was ruthless. She’d let her attraction get in the way and she’d forgotten who she was dealing with.
    “Yes, I am. He may not go out of his way to proclaim you as his son-in-law, but he won’t say anything negative about you in public. The family’s reputation means everything to him.”
    He frowned.
    “Marcus, we can still—” She broke off when his phone rang.
    He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. “It’s the office. Excuse me for a moment.” He stood and walked to the back corner of the pub.
    She stared out the window at the golfers down below. It couldn’t end like this. She had until he finished his phone call to devise a plan or the shelter could kiss its building good-bye. She thought again of that rainy night over a year ago. What would have happened to her if it hadn’t been there?
    “Pamela? I thought that was you.”
    Her heart stopped. She whipped around to find Devin standing behind the chair Marcus had vacated. Had recalling the memory actually conjured forth the man?
    For over a year, she’d gone out of her way to avoid his company, a difficult feat considering they socialized in the same circles.
    “It’s been a while,” he said as she slowly rose to standing. “Lots to catch up on. I finally got that promotion. Youngest person ever to make partner.” Satisfaction coated every word.
    “You’ve wanted it for a while.”
    He smiled, his teeth white against the cinnamon shade of his skin. “Yes, I have.” He hesitated, lowering his eyes in an affectation he’d skillfully honed. “The only thing that would have made it better is having you by my side when I got the news.”
    Had that worked before?
    He pulled out the chair and sat down, mistaking her silence for acquiescence.
    “We had a disagreement, Pamela. Most couples do. But they work through it.”
    Her fingernails bit into her palms as she clenched her hands. Maybe if she remained standing, he’d get the hint and leave. “Telling your friends you would marry a paper bag if it got you Warren Harrington for a father-in-law is not a disagreement , Devin.”
    “Let’s put the past behind us and move forward.”
    “You will never lay a finger on me again,” she hissed, struggling to keep her voice low.
    He flushed. “I said I was sorry! If you hadn’t kept bothering me about—”
    “Really?” She arched a regal brow. “You’re going to blame me?”
    “I’ll accede that I haven’t acted the way I should and I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. But people like us can’t be led by our emotions. The decisions we make impact generations.”
    “People like us?”
    “Stop being naive, Pamela. Do you know what a Harrington-Wentworth union could do for this city? Our families united as one?”
    “You can’t be that cold and calculating about love and marriage, can you?”
    “Who you marry matters .” He paused a moment, his eyes turning cold. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Everyone’s talking about the two of you. The District Dish is reporting that you’re getting married. I’ve never heard of the Pearsons.”
    “Your snobbery is revolting.”
    “You’ve slummed it long enough. We’ll get reengaged and spin it that we both needed a little time. We belong together.”
    “You’re sitting in my chair.” Marcus’s words cleaved through the fog of tension at the table.
    “Marcus, this is Devin Wentworth. He was just leaving.”
    Devin stood and slowly buttoned