"I'm going to marry him."
The wrong man.
No, the right man, Eva corrected herself, irritated for even momentarily adopting her father's negative perspective.
True, there was no gut feeling of rightness, of destiny, but then she told herself to stop being illogical.
How many times during her party planning career had things seemed off before proceeding without a hitch? She'd also seen what should have been perfect events erupt into flaming disasters.
No, there was no predicting the future, she decided, even as she met her father's annoyed and disbelieving gaze.
Marcus Tremont stood and slapped a hand on the massive oak desk before him. "Damn it, Eva! Are you out of your mind? Carter Newell is a fortune hunting snake. You won't get a penny from me!"
Her lips tightened, but she refused to show how her father's words hurt. She'd come from work today— Mondays were her slow days—to meet her father in his wood paneled library at the family estate in exclus ...
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