THE BILLIONAIRE WHO REFUSED TO LET HER BE SOLD

Camille held her father's gaze.

For a moment, Nathan looked almost relieved. He seemed to believe she was finally going to behave like the daughter he had brought to Briarwood House: quiet, polished, and willing to swallow whatever humiliation was necessary to protect the family name.

Then she finished her sentence.

"I didn't rip my dress, Dad. Sloane did."

The room went quiet again.

Sloane gave a theatrical little laugh. "Oh, please. It was an accident. Camille caught her heel in the train."

"Your heel was on my dress before you pulled it."

"Are you accusing me of deliberately damaging your gown?"

"I'm telling everyone what happened."

Sloane glanced at the guests, searching for support. A few people lowered their phones. Others continued recording.

Russell Briarwood stepped forward.

"This is becoming unnecessarily unpleasant."

Camille turned toward him. "Then perhaps you should ask your guest to apologize."

Russell's expression hardened. "Miss Harrow, I suggest you remember why you're here."

"To be evaluated as a potential wife for your son?"

"To discuss a future beneficial to both families."

"Then let's discuss the actual agreement."

Nathan's face drained of color.

Oliver Briarwood appeared beside his father. He had been watching from the far side of the ballroom, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

"Camille," he said, "maybe we should talk privately."

She looked at him. "Did you know about the condition attached to your family's refinancing offer?"

Oliver hesitated.

That hesitation answered her.

"Did you know my father was expected to encourage an engagement between us in exchange for saving his hotels?"

"That's not how I understood it."

"How did you understand it?"

Oliver glanced at Russell.

Camille laughed once, without humor. "Of course."

Everett remained several feet behind her. He had not interrupted. He had not raised his voice. But his presence had changed the room. Even Russell seemed reluctant to turn his back on him.

Nathan caught Camille's elbow.

"Enough. We need to talk."

She pulled away.

"Don't touch me."

His hand dropped.

A few guests exchanged looks. The daughter of Nathan Harrow had never spoken to him like that in public.

Camille faced the room.

"I came here because my father told me this event was a charity tradition. He neglected to mention that my future marriage had become part of a financing negotiation. Apparently, my job tonight was to look pretty, accept the right man's attention, and help secure forty-eight million dollars."

"That is a gross distortion," Russell snapped.

"Then show everyone the agreement."

Russell said nothing.

Everett finally spoke.

"That's a reasonable request."

Russell turned sharply. "This is a private family matter."

"Not anymore," Everett replied.

Camille looked at him. "I asked you to watch."

"I am watching."

"And?"

"And I'm agreeing that they should show the agreement."

The simplicity of his answer unsettled her more than any grand declaration could have.

Russell's attention shifted toward Everett. "Kane, you have no stake in this transaction."

"Not yet."

The words landed heavily.

Nathan stared at him. "What does that mean?"

Everett didn't answer.

Instead, Camille noticed a woman in a black suit entering through the side doors. She carried a slim leather folder and spoke briefly with one of Everett's security men.

The woman approached him and whispered something.

Everett's expression changed.

He took the folder.

Camille looked at him. "What is it?"

"Something you should see before you decide what happens next."

He opened the folder and removed a printed document.

At the top was the name of Harrow Coast Hotels.

Below it was a list of outstanding loans.

And beside several of those loans was a signature Camille recognized immediately.

Her father's.

But the final page contained a second signature.

One that made her stomach tighten.