Chapter 3
Yes, he meant my house
Scarlett
Endo Macarley stays for dinner.
He stays for the dance too, and when I refuse to take the floor with him, Mirna Johanson, the wife of my dad’s business associate and my grandma’s best friend, snatches his card and writes her name on it, then passes it a few seats to her left.
Larissa, also my grandma’s friend, writes her name on it too.
Endo looks mighty pleased with himself for securing dances with a couple of women in their late sixties who have each been married for over forty years.
Larissa hands the card to the fashion queen at the table next to ours, and within an hour, Endo’s card is full, and he becomes the most desirable ineligible bachelor at the party.
Since this is a charity auction, the women pay for the dances with him, and I collect over seventy thousand dollars for my favorite charity. Now I can’t even hate him properly.
But all good (and bad) times come to an end, usually at two in the morning. Which is precisely when Endo drives me home.
At my house, in the formal sitting room, the pair of us wait for my dad’s arrival. I pace from one end of the room to the next, glancing between the old clock and the window. Even though I’m watching the clock, I startle when it chimes four in the morning.
“Where the fuck is he?” I throw up my hands, then pinch my lips when I see Endo’s eyebrows shooting up.
“I didn’t think you cursed,” he says from his casual position on the Louis XIV chair by the fireplace.
“I’m a grown woman, Macarley. Sometimes I curse.”
“Careful, luv, you’re getting snarky with me, and that’s turning me on.”
I huff and part the sheer curtains.
A pair of headlights flash in our driveway, and a black SUV parks in front of the house. I frown. My dad drives a luxury two-seater sports car. Four men I recognize from the party as Endo’s men pile out of the car, and my dad exits with them.
They escorted him home.
“Why are you…” I spin to confront Endo and find him right behind me.
My face almost touches his chest, so I crane my neck to look up at him.
He’s not watching me, but looking outside.
I note the curve of his Adam’s apple, the strong, masculine scent of his bergamot-laced cologne, and the five o’clock shadow that looks too good not to be put to use between my legs.
I should get laid.
Maybe I can call Colin. He’s always up for a nice shag, though I bet it would be vastly different from what Endo would give me in bed. This man doesn’t seem like a man who would shag nicely at all. He seems like one of those guys who would stick his thumb in my butt.
I clear my throat and skip to the right, but Endo follows.
I skip left, but again, he follows.
A smile tugs his lips, and he looks down his nose at me. “Feeling a little trapped, luv?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “No.”
“As soon as your father finds my brother, I will release you. Until then, you are my collateral damsel, and as such, I expect you will behave.”
“And if I don’t behave?”
Endo dips his head slightly. “You’ll end up over my knee.”
“You’re very close to being slapped, Macarley.”
“I’ll consider it foreplay.”
I growl, make a fist, and punch him in the belly. Not hard, because I would never wish to hurt another person, not even the likes of him, but hard enough to reclaim my space.
Endo grunts and moves away with a smirk, while I remain at the window.
My dad walks in with a loose tie and a wrinkled shirt. Endo’s men must’ve roughed him up. I hope that’s not the case, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Endo’s crew was comfortable with violence.
“Daddy.” I rush to him. “Are you okay?”
My father envelops me in a hug and kisses my temple. “I’m fine. Just fine. You?”
I glance at Endo, who’s watching us. “I don’t know what’s going on.” I point at Endo. “This man publicly claimed we’re engaged when I’ve never met him before tonight, and he told me you know him. Do you?”
“I’ll deal with him. Meanwhile, go upstairs and stay there.”
I step back. “Dad, I want answers.”
My dad rubs my arms. “I’ll give them to you in the morning.”
I look from Endo to my father, then back at Endo, who winks at me.
My dad didn’t stand up to Endo for me or even acknowledge that a stranger invaded the party and practically took me (and is still holding me) hostage, and his request to leave them alone bothers me. I’m a part of this man’s scheme.
I dislike confronting my father, and I want to show a united family front in front of Endo so he doesn’t see cracks he’ll surely exploit, but I also must stand up for myself since nobody else here will. “If things are said about my future, I should be a part of the conversation.”
“Scarlett,” my dad says in his firm, parental voice. “Go upstairs.”
I can tell he’s trying to protect me from whatever warpath Endo’s on, but I’m hurt that he’s excluding me.
“Are you sure you are safe alone with him?” I ask.
“No,” Endo answers, even as my dad says yes.
I bite my lip. Real fear for my dad’s life seizes my lungs, making it harder to breathe. “Then I’m staying.”
My father shakes his head disapprovingly and approaches the minibar. He pours two whiskeys neat. Endo accepts his, and my dad sips from the other glass on his way to his new desk. He recently acquired a Louis XIV desk, and he’s in love with it.
A moment of silence stretches. The men stare at me, waiting for me to leave.
I cross my arms.
“Scarlett, please, now’s not the time for one of your tantrums.”
Being scolded by my dad in front of a man who’s already humiliated me in front of hundreds of people saddens me. Tears cloud my eyes. “I’m not trying to be difficult.”
“I don’t mind if she stays,” Endo says. “I have nothing to hide. In fact, I told her why I’m here and what I’m doing with you and her.”
True. He’s insinuating my father has secrets he’d rather I didn’t know. Everyone has secrets, and I’m not entitled to know them in the same way that nobody is entitled to know mine, but this situation is as much about me as it is about my father, so I’ve earned my place in the room.
I don’t suffer from any delusions that Endo is on my side and wants to soothe my pride over being treated like a child. He’s saying this because it’ll benefit him somehow if I’m here for the conversation he’s about to have with my father. Which is precisely why I opt to leave for my room.
As I climb the steps, my phone pings with a text from Charlotte.
“You okay?”
A simple question. I have a complicated response. Endo isn’t here to tell me what to say or do, but the brief flash of his gun and the bold way he commands the room, as well as the fear on my father’s face, make me type:
“I’m fine. You?”
“Also fine.”
Neither of us is fine.
“Did Josh go home with you?”
“Don’t start, Scar.”
Josh looked lit up tonight, and he’s not spending the night at home again.
I bet he told Charlotte he’s got business out of town early in the morning so he could sleep elsewhere.
Although Josh is a successful businessman and provides for my sister and Beatrice more than they need or want, I don’t think he’s being faithful.
And if he’s not cheating, then he’s married to work.
My sister spends her nights alone, and I don’t like it.
But I’m not the one married to the man, and if my sister’s content, oftentimes I bite my tongue.
I don’t want her to distance herself from me or to not tell me about Josh.
I never want that. I want Charlotte to come to me for everything, hopefully to tell me how wrong I am about her husband.
She’d expect me to confide in her as well, which is why my situation with Endo feels wrong.
Do you want to come over? I type, but I don’t send it because I can’t very well invite my sister over (not that she needs an invite) when a dangerous man is in the house. In fact, I want Charlotte to stay away.
“Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m coming over?”
“It’s been a long night. I’m tired.”
“Cut the crap, Scar. What’s going on?”
“Nothing!”
I make sure to punctuate with an exclamation mark, even though I reserve those text signals for when they’re used in a cheerful manner. Congratulations! My favorite one.
I enter my bedroom and kick off the heels in the closet.
“Who is Endo Macarley?”
I have no answers. Charlotte is either hurt that I didn’t tell her I met the man I want to marry, or she knows something isn’t right. I’m betting on the latter. But until our dad and Endo settle the situation, I’ll maintain the charade.
“I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. Love you.”
I throw the phone onto the bed and wish I could put on my pajamas, but I change into a casual pair of slacks and a T-shirt.
It’s after four in the morning, so I should wash my face and brush my teeth before I call it a night, but I can’t do that yet.
I might be needed downstairs, and walking around in my jammies feels too private. Vulnerable, even.
I slip into my late mother’s fuzzy green slippers and sit in my reading chair by the window, my gaze falling to the driveway out front. Endo’s men lean against an SUV. I take it as a good sign. They appear to be waiting, which means Endo will depart shortly.
I’ll wait too.