The deacon's daughter

Sunday mornings in the Bennett household had a rhythm of their own.

By seven-thirty, the kitchen smelled of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon, the polished dining table was already set, and Charlotte Bennett had heard her father's footsteps pass her bedroom door at least three times.

She glanced at the clock.

7:42 a.m.

"Charlotte."

Her father's voice came from the hallway.

She smiled despite herself.

"Coming, Dad."

She gave herself one last look in the mirror.

Charlotte had never considered herself particularly beautiful. Her mother insisted she was, but mothers were allowed to be biased.

Still, there were certain things even Charlotte couldn't deny.

Her long chestnut-brown hair fell in soft waves down her back, and her hazel eyes seemed to change between green and brown depending on the light. She had naturally full lashes, delicate features, and a small beauty mark beneath her left eye. Her complexion was warm and clear, and there was something quietly graceful about the way she carried herself.

Today, she wore a simple cream-colored dress that fell below her knees, a thin belt around her waist, and low heels.

Nothing extravagant.

Nothing that would attract unnecessary attention.

Her father would approve.

Charlotte picked up her Bible from the bedside table.

The worn leather cover had belonged to her grandmother. There were notes in the margins, underlined verses, and several pages that had been turned so often the corners were beginning to curl.

It was one of the few things she would never allow herself to lose.

She slipped it into her handbag and headed downstairs.

"Finally," her younger brother called.

Charlotte stopped halfway down the staircase.

James Bennett sat at the dining table, eating toast as though he'd been waiting his entire life for her.

"I'm seven minutes late."

"You've been upstairs for twenty minutes."

"That's because unlike you, I actually care what I look like."

James looked down at his shirt.

"You think this doesn't look good?"

Charlotte laughed.

"You look fine."

"Exactly."

Their mother appeared from the kitchen carrying a plate.

"Children."

James immediately pointed at Charlotte.

"She started it."

"I said three words."

"And they were insulting."

Eleanor Bennett shook her head.

"Both of you, sit properly. Your father is waiting."

As if summoned by the words, Richard Bennett entered the room.

At sixty, Richard had the commanding presence of a man accustomed to being listened to.

His silvering hair was always perfectly groomed, his suits always immaculate, and even on Sunday mornings he somehow looked as though he could walk straight into a boardroom and negotiate a multimillion-dollar deal.

For most people, Richard Bennett was the founder and chairman of Bennett & Sterling Properties, one of the city's most successful privately owned real-estate companies.

For Charlotte, however, he was simply Dad.

And, unfortunately, Dad had expectations.

"Good morning," Richard said.

"Good morning, Dad."

He looked at Charlotte.

His expression softened.

"You look lovely."

"Thank you."

Richard checked his watch.

"We leave in five minutes."

James groaned.

"Why are you always early?"

"Because being late is inconsiderate."

"Being five minutes late isn't a crime."

Richard gave him a look.

James lowered his eyes.

Charlotte hid a smile.

Her father noticed.

"Something amusing?"

"No, sir."

"Good."

Eleanor placed a hand on Richard's shoulder.

"Let them breathe, Richard."

"I let them breathe."

James muttered, "Under supervision."

"James."

"Sorry."

Charlotte laughed again.

For all his seriousness, her father loved his family deeply.

That was something she had never doubted.

Richard Bennett could be intimidating to everyone else, but Charlotte knew the man who prayed over his family every night. She knew the father who had stayed beside her hospital bed when she was sick at fourteen. She knew the man who quietly paid school fees for families who could never repay him.

And every Sunday, he stood behind the pulpit as one of the church's deacons.

People respected him.

Some admired him.

Some feared disappointing him.

Charlotte understood why.

The Bennett name carried weight.

And she had spent most of her life trying to make sure she never became the reason that weight shifted.

---

The Bennett family arrived at Grace Covenant Church shortly before the service began.

The church was beautiful without being ostentatious, with tall windows that filled the sanctuary with morning light and rows of dark wooden seats polished until they gleamed.

Charlotte loved it here.

She loved the hymns.

She loved the quiet before the service.

She loved the way people stood together in worship, regardless of their social status outside those walls.

Most of all, she loved the certainty she felt when she opened her Bible.

The world could be confusing.

God wasn't.

At least, that was what she had always believed.

Charlotte sat beside her mother while her father joined the other deacons at the front.

She opened her Bible.

"Morning," whispered a familiar voice.

Charlotte looked over.

Grace Miller slid into the seat beside her.

"You look suspiciously cheerful."

"I slept."

"That's not why you're cheerful."

Charlotte smiled.

"You know me too well."

"I do."

Grace leaned closer.

"So, your father is preaching next Sunday?"

"He's giving the devotional."

"Same difference."

Charlotte rolled her eyes.

Grace was one of the few people who could tease her about her father without making her defensive.

"You should come to dinner tonight," Charlotte whispered.

"Your mother cooking?"

"Yes."

"I'm there."

Charlotte smiled.

Then the sanctuary doors opened.

She didn't think anything of it.

Not at first.

Several people were still arriving, and she barely looked up.

Until she heard Grace whisper—

"Charlotte."

"What?"

"Don't look now."

Charlotte immediately looked.

Grace sighed.

"I literally said don't look."

"I wasn't going to."

"You already did."

Charlotte ignored her.

A man had just entered the sanctuary.

And somehow, despite the hundreds of people around him, he was impossible not to notice.

He was tall—well over six feet—with broad shoulders and an athletic build that made his dark suit look almost effortless. His dark brown hair was slightly untidy, as though he'd run a hand through it one too many times. His eyes were a striking blue-gray, and a faint scar cut through one eyebrow.

His features were sharp.

Strong jaw.

Straight nose.

A mouth that looked far too accustomed to smirking.

Charlotte looked away.

Immediately.

"Who is that?" Grace whispered.

"I don't know."

"You looked."

"I have eyes."

Grace covered her smile.

"He is very handsome."

Charlotte gave her a disapproving look.

"That's irrelevant."

"To you, perhaps."

Charlotte returned her attention to the front.

Unfortunately, the stranger chose the empty seat several rows ahead.

She could still see him.

And she hated that she noticed.

The service began.

Charlotte tried to focus.

She really did.

But halfway through the opening hymn, she noticed something strange.

The stranger wasn't singing.

He wasn't looking at his phone.

He wasn't talking.

He was simply sitting there.

Watching.

When the pastor began the sermon, Charlotte found herself listening more carefully than usual.

"Faith," Pastor Williams said, "is not simply what we say we believe. It is what we allow to change us."

Charlotte lowered her eyes.

Those words settled somewhere deep inside her.

She wrote them in the margin of her Bible.

When the service ended, everyone stood and began greeting one another.

Charlotte closed her Bible.

"Come," Grace said. "Your mother wants us to meet someone."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

They hadn't taken more than three steps when Charlotte's father appeared.

"Charlotte."

She turned.

"Yes, Dad?"

Richard's expression was unusually serious.

"There is someone I'd like you to meet."

Charlotte followed his gaze.

And stopped.

The stranger from earlier was standing beside him.

Up close, he was even more striking.

His blue-gray eyes settled on hers.

For one brief second, neither of them spoke.

Then Richard smiled.

"Charlotte, this is Alexander Carter."

Charlotte's heart gave an inexplicable little jolt.

Carter.

She knew that name.

Everyone did.

Alexander Carter—the heir to Carter International Holdings.

The son of Jonathan Carter.

And, if the business magazines were to be believed, the youngest executive in the Carter family to ever take control of the company.

Charlotte had also heard about Apex Meridian Group, the private investment and technology company Alexander had founded himself.

He was wealthy.

Successful.

Intelligent.

And, according to nearly every article she had ever read about him—

Difficult.

Alexander extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you."

Charlotte looked at his hand.

Then at him.

"Likewise."

His eyebrow lifted slightly.

There was something amused about his expression.

She couldn't explain why it irritated her.

Richard looked between them.

"Alexander's father and I have known each other for years."

"Yes," Alexander said.

His eyes remained on Charlotte.

"My father has mentioned the Bennetts."

Charlotte smiled politely.

"Hopefully, nothing terrible."

"Nothing terrible."

A pause.

"Yet."

Charlotte's smile disappeared.

Grace coughed into her hand.

Richard frowned.

Alexander smiled.

Charlotte immediately disliked him.

Completely.

Without question.

And somehow, she had the terrible feeling that he knew it.

"Alexander will be joining us for dinner tonight," Richard said.

Charlotte stared at her father.

"I'm sorry?"

"His father couldn't make it to the business meeting tomorrow, so Alexander and I have some things to discuss."

Alexander glanced at Charlotte.

"I hope that's alright."

Charlotte forced a smile.

"Of course."

"Good."

His smile widened.

"Because I was hoping we'd get a chance to talk."

Charlotte's eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

Alexander leaned slightly closer.

"Because you look like you have a lot to say."

She blinked.

"I don't."

"I think you do."

Before Charlotte could respond, her father cleared his throat.

"Alexander."

He straightened.

"Mr. Bennett."

Charlotte looked between them.

Something told her this dinner was going to be a disaster.

She had no idea just how right she was.

Because Alexander Carter wasn't simply going to walk into her life.

He was going to challenge everything she thought she knew about people, faith, love, and herself.

And Charlotte Bennett wasn't going to forgive him for it easily.