Hell on Heels (Hotel Rodeo #1)(44)

“Unfortunately, the son of a bitch stole over a million before he got caught.”

“So what did you do before running the hotel?”

“I was involved with rodeo. I contracted stock and rode bulls.”

“Like your father did? Didn’t you say he was killed by a bull?”

“Yup. And I followed square in my ol’ man’s footsteps, even though I’d sworn to myself I never would. My story probably would have ended exactly the same way, too, if not for Tom. And that’s about all I’m inclined to say about it, Ms. Brandt.” Ty spoke casually, but she saw the strain in the lines around his mouth and the flicker of pain in his eyes. “What about you?” he asked. “Tom told me how you never even knew him until you were grown.”

Monica licked her lips, realizing she didn’t relish digging up her past any more than he had. “The abbreviated version?” she suggested.

He raised his water glass with a nod. “Whatever version suits you to tell.”

“Okay.” She took a sip of wine while composing her thoughts. “My mother’s family is from Connecticut. Old money. The kind that vacation in the Hamptons and winter in Palm Beach. Maybe you know the type?”

He inclined his head. “Yeah, I know the sort, all right.”

“You know how my mother and Tom met?”

“I’ve heard Tom’s version of the story a few times,” Ty replied dryly.

“When Vivian, that’s my mother, returned from Vegas, she never even told her parents that she’d married Tom. She just quietly hired a lawyer and filed for divorce. When she discovered she was pregnant, they all assumed it was illegitimate and hid her away. When I was born, I was put straight into the care of a nanny, like a dirty little secret, while Vivian went back to her old life.” She traced rings on the lip of her wineglass as she spoke.

“You’re kidding.”

“No I’m not. She finished college and then made her social debut, as if I didn’t exist. She eventually wed a high-powered New York attorney and moved to Manhattan. I was five years old by then, but she never even told my stepfather about me. I was shipped off to boarding school and only came home on holidays.”

“Home?” he asked. “Where was that?”

“My grandparents’ house,” she clarified. “They hired another nanny for when I was home, but when I got older I usually spent holidays with friends or traveled abroad. That’s how I was raised, for the most part. Tom was the first person in my life who ever actually wanted me.” She paused. “Aside from Evan, that is.”

“The ex-fiancé?”

“Yes. Maybe that’s why I agreed to marry him.”

“You didn’t love him?”

“I was infatuated with him. I was an impressionable intern at his company when we met. He was rich, powerful, good-looking . . . and he took notice of me.”

“I’m sure there were lots of men who took notice of you, Ms. Brandt.”

She gave a soft snort. “If they did, I didn’t notice them. I didn’t have time for any of that. I was out to prove myself.”

“That’s quite a chip to carry,” he remarked softly.

“It was.” She added softly, “It still is.”

“So why’d you and Evan split?”

She answered with a tight smile, “Because I finally saw him for what he is—a manipulative, self-serving bastard.”

“And now he’s here in Vegas? What does he want?”

“He says he misses me and wants to see me.” She was reluctant to bring up the part about the hotel. Now just didn’t seem the right time to talk about business.

“Does he now?” His expression darkened. “Are you going to see him?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet.”

She didn’t know how she felt about seeing Evan again, the man she’d once thought she’d spend her life with. She wondered now what kind of life that would have been. When together, they’d both put in sixty-to seventy-hour workweeks. They ate out at all the most popular places. Even then, they weren’t relaxing, but networking.

Evan was always on the prowl for the next deal, and having social connections with the right people was a huge part of that. Power, prestige, success. That’s what her life with Evan would have been about. Romance and passion were never part of that equation. Evan’s passion was reserved for the deals he made. At one time she’d believed that was enough. But not anymore.

His gaze held hers. “Let it go, Monica. You don’t need him. You don’t have to prove anything to your family or to anyone else.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You only got engaged to him because you wanted your family’s approval.”

“That’s not it at all!”

“Sure it is. You said yourself you didn’t love him. You were just using him to buy your way into your family’s good graces.”

“Me using Evan?” She gave a derisive laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Am I? Seems obvious to me.”

She stared at him in utter disbelief. Was it true? Was that the reason she still hadn’t told her family about the breakup?