The Ashtons - Cole, Abigail & Megan

help. But judging by the stark, raw pain in his eyes, there was nothing.
    He sighed again and gave her a half smile. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and your husband, Meg. But I will tell you to trust yourself. And if you have to make a choice between family and your heart, choose your heart.”
    Sounded simple. Now all she had to do was figure out what her choice would be. Megan wanted to scream. Her father’s greed and blind ambition had brought them all to this point—and now it would probably cost her the future she might have had with Simon.
    “Mrs. Pearce—a comment for our readers?”
    “Over here, honey, smile for the camera!”
    “Hey, how’s it feel to know your father made you a bastard?”
    Megan gritted her teeth and kept her gaze focused straight ahead. She’d thought that once she left the Ashton estate behind, she’d be free of the reporters. But no. There were at least a dozen of them, complete with news vans and cameras, staked out at the foot of the driveway leading to Simon’s house.
    They were going to ruin him. Ruin a man who’d made the mistake of marrying an Ashton. Don’t look, she warned herself. Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Of seeing her pound the steering wheel in frustration.
    “Hey, what’s your new hubby think of dear old dad?” another reporter shouted as he skittered sideways,bending down to look into the driver’s side window. “Bet he’s sorry he ever hooked up with you, huh?”
    She slammed on the brake, jerking the car to a stop. Whipping her head to the left, she glared at the big-mouthed, rude, obnoxious reporter and snapped, “You leave my husband out of this.”
    The reporter, a short bald man with eager eyes and a smarmy grin shook his head. “No can do, honey. Simon Pearce is big news, too. And when he’s linked to the Ashton family high jinks, well, that sells papers.”
    Cameras flashed, microphones were jammed at her, reporters and TV crews jostled for position and Megan could have sworn she felt the earth beneath her shudder and shake.
    Simon.
    Big news.
    Linked to the Ashtons.
    God.
    “So,” the reporter asked, taking her stunned silence for a decision to talk to the press, “what about it? What’s Simon ‘Squeaky Clean’ Pearce have to say about the family embarrassment?”
    She inhaled sharply, thought about telling them all to go to hell, then pictured that little confrontation on the front page and the six o’clock news and changed her mind. “No comment,” she snapped and stepped on the gas.
    It did her heart good to see the reporters skip backout of the way of her tires. But that flush of pleasure only lasted a second or two, then the lead weight of reality settled in the pit of her stomach and she knew it wasn’t going anywhere.
    It was time to make that choice she and Trace had talked about.
    By the time Simon got home, it was after ten and he felt as though he’d done ten rounds with a heavyweight champion. Dropping his briefcase to the floor, he leaned back against the closed front door and closed his eyes. Damn, it had been a nightmare day.
    Reporters had buzzed around his offices, futilely hoping for an exclusive interview. The phones had rung off the hook and Dave had spent most of the day soothing Pearce Industries’ clients and snarling at people demanding comments on Spencer Ashton’s latest mess. Plus, there was an encampment of reporters parked at the edge of his driveway.
    Simon should have been furious.
    His company was under fire. He personally was being stalked by reporters. His family was being drawn into what promised to be an ugly situation played out on the front pages of every newspaper in the country.
    And yet…
    All he’d been able to think about all day was how this was affecting Megan. At the thought of her, he pushed away from the wall. “Megan?”
    His shout seemed to echo in the stillness. There was no sign of anyone in the big house. It was as if Megan and his employees had all disappeared.
    Scowling at that mental image, he stalked across the hall toward the staircase and the bedrooms above. Damn, she was probably alone and crying. He wanted to go and tell Spencer Ashton just what an ass he was for hurting his daughter. He wanted to find Megan’s dragons and slay them. He wanted to—damn it, he wanted to love her. Wanted her to love him.
    He should never have come up with that stupid plan to wait her out. To make her confess her love first. He should have