Page 49 of The Princess Trap
“Yep. Maggie started it.”
He tried to sound casual as he said, “So what does your dad think of me?”
“Um… He’s reserving judgement.”
“Is he?”
“No. He thinks you’re an evil playboy who’s going to break my heart, but he’s glad I’m getting to travel.”
Ruben couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “I take it you get the practicality from his side of the family.”
“Something like that. Although he’s being very uncooperative about…”
Her voice trailed off into silence, and Ruben frowned, turning towards her. So much for keeping his hands to himself; he reached out and settled his palm against her waist, soft and perfect. “About what?”
“Um… My sister’s tuition and… things. I mean, I told you Maggie’s in America, didn’t I?”
“Yes. Your genius little sister.”
“Right. Well, we all contribute to her tuition and her… Well, she has sickle cell. Do you know what that is?”
“Ah…” He searched his mind. Came up blank. “I’ve heard of it, but not really.”
“It’s a genetic thing, a life-long illness, and she needs medicine and regular doctor’s appointments and so on. But, you know, in America, you have to pay. A lot. And with the kind of studying she does, and her illness, we don’t want her to work. She couldn’t earn enough money to cover the bills anyway.”
“Right. So…” He closed his eyes as the truth sank into his gut like a fist. “So that’s why you needed the money. For your sister.”
“No,” she said seriously. “I’m spending it on my shoe collection.”
He snorted. “Sure. So what’s up with your dad?” If he kept talking, his mounting guilt might take a little longer to suffocate him.
You dragged her into your issues to save your delicate fucking feelings, and she’s doing it for her sick sister. You are a fucking Disney villain.
“Well,” Cherry said, “I was going to use the money you’re giving me, but—”
“But he doesn’t want you to.” Ruben’s voice sounded as grim as he felt. Every time he allowed himself to forget what an arse he’d been, something happened to remind him. This time, it was the realisation that he’d trapped her with the offer of money more than he had with his words to that damn reporter.
“I’ll pay the fees directly,” he said. “You shouldn’t be spending your money on that anyway.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The money is for you. It’s what I owe you. I’ll pay your sister’s tuition and whatever else.”
She scoffed. “That doesn’t make any sense. The money’s for me, and I want to spendmymoney on—”
“I’ll talk to Demetria about it. And she’ll talk to you. Okay?”
There was a pause. He could almost hear her mind ticking over, considering the offer from all angles. Because she probably didn’t trust him, or his motivations.
He slid his hand from her waist.
But then she said, “Okay. You’re right. You do owe me.”
He exhaled, relieved. “Good. I’ll sort it out tomorrow.” Then a thought hit him. “Your dad’s going to hate me even more, isn’t he?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Great.” He huffed out a laugh. “I suppose fathers never like their son-in-laws.” He froze as he realised what he’d said. “I mean—not that we’re—obviously we’re not really—”
