Chapter 28
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
SCOTT
“ Y ou’re here early,” I said, surprised to walk in and find my brother in my parents’ penthouse living room.
Cole looked up from the bar where he was pouring more than two fingers of something amber into a tumbler. “You are too.”
“That I am.” It was unusual for both of us. While my parents didn’t tolerate tardiness, my siblings and I had perfected the art of arriving Just On Time. Rare was the occasion when not one but two of us arrived for the weekly dinner a whole hour before serving time.
He held his drink up as if to ask if I wanted one. When I shook my head, he explained his presence. “I was out of the good scotch at the office. You?”
“I have something to discuss with them.” There was no need to specify the them . “Thought if I got here beforehand, I’d have a better chance at gauging their moods.” I wasn’t going to add that my anticipation over the conversation had made it impossible to sit at my desk one minute more than necessary. Even with typical rush-hour traffic, I’d made it to the Upper West Side well ahead of dinner.
He considered. “Right now I think you’re at a three for Mom. Five and a half for Dad.”
We’d developed the parental mood scale years ago. It ran from one to ten, the high end being the that-might-have-been-a-smile side of the scale, the low end being the run-for-your-life side.
“They’re in good moods then.”
“The most surprising part about it is that they’re in the same room and still just as chipper.”
“Hmm.” The knot of tension in my shoulders tightened. They never chose to spend time together voluntarily. And if they’d been in good moods when they’d entered the room, it was safe to say it wouldn’t last. “Where are they?”
Cole unbuttoned his jacket as he sat down in the wingback armchair. “Library.” He lifted one foot then the other to the foot rest, not bothering to remove his shoes before he crossed them at the ankle. “Dad got in a new revolver today. He’s unpacking and inspecting it. Cataloging every scratch and nick. You know the drill.”
“That explains why you gave him a five.” My father’s favorite hobby besides golf was his collection of antique guns. It wouldn’t have surprised me to find out he’d named the collection as his sole benefactor in his will. Either that or he’d bury them with him. I was one hundred percent sure he loved them more than any of his children except for his only daughter.
“Five and a half ,” Cole corrected, as though the half made a difference because it did. “Mom decided to take advantage of his fine spirits and followed him in. She’s working on a guest list and wants his input.”
Oh, God. My father hated any type of event planning. So much for that half being relevant. He was likely already on his way down to a four.
I’d been torn whether or not to bring up my engagement before or during dinner. Now I was definitely thinking before.
I took a step toward the library and paused. “What event is she planning? Do you know? Do I want to know?”
“Your engagement party, it seems. Funny that I hadn’t been informed that you were engaged.”
“I’m not.” And now I was reconsidering that drink. My mother was a finisher. She was not going to be happy to be told her planning was for naught.
“Mom sure seems to think you are.”
“Well, what she thinks and what is are often quite different.” I crossed over to the bar and grabbed a tumbler from the cupboard, then poured some of “the good scotch.” Whiskey wasn’t my usual drink of choice, but I needed something with a swift kick to settle me before going in that room.
The first sip sent a scorching burn down my throat. The second sip was less harsh, and the weight on my chest started to feel bearable.
“Tell me something,” I said, knowing that I should be headed into the library instead of prolonging the inevitable. “How did you get Dad to transfer you without being married?”
Cole was older by two years, and I’d always assumed his status as first son was why he’d been given his dream position at SIC as soon as he’d asked. But now that I actually thought about it, giving anything to anyone without making them jump through hoops was not my father’s style. Especially when the anyone was one of his sons.
“Oh, so that’s what he demanded.” He nodded as though something had fallen into place in his head. “He’d mentioned he was considering putting you on the board. I didn’t put two and two together.”
“And you’re VP of strategy. Aren’t you supposed to be a whiz at connecting the dots? Something smells of nepotism.”
We chuckled in unison. Nepotism ran galore at SIC, but that didn’t mean any of us were undeserving. We’d been bred for the sole purpose of one day working at the family business. We’d grown up learning every aspect of the company alongside our normal studies. We’d been tested and given grades as far back as I could remember. No one was more qualified to take on a position of importance than a Sebastian.
Which was why I deserved to work in research and development instead of in fucking PR. I’d had years of covering up my father’s shitty image. If I had to do it for even one more, I knew I’d throw myself off the SIC tower.
Or, that had been my attitude before Tess.
Stomaching the job was a lot more tolerable when she was a part of the day. Maybe it was too soon to think about a future with her, but telling my parents I wasn’t marrying Kendra Montgomery automatically put my future under scrutiny. And if it meant staying where I was at SIC for the rest of my life to merely get a chance at something more with her, it was a no-brainer. Sign me the fuck up.
“Marriage, man,” Cole said sympathetically. “That’s a pretty intense stipulation, even from Dad. The ‘rents must be getting anxious for grandchildren.”
“That was my impression.”
“Well, it wasn’t the bargaining chip he used with me. Believe me, though, the old man has a creative mind when it comes to torturous terms in his bargaining. VP of strategy didn’t come for free.”
Of course it hadn’t. How had I ever thought otherwise?
It was clear my brother wasn’t going to offer more details of the deal he’d had to make, and I could have asked, but there was sort of an unwritten rule amongst the five of us not to speak of the arrangements we had with our parents. As if not talking about them somehow gave them less power. It was easier to pretend we lived normal lives with normal familial bonds if we didn’t give voice to the cruel expectations that accompanied the Sebastian name.
As ruthless as our parents’ demands might be, they always were open to negotiation. At least there was that.
I took another sip of the scotch before putting the half-drunk glass on the bar. “I’d better go in there.”
“Unless you want to wait until Mom has her wine in hand at dinner. But I wouldn’t recommend that. Zach’s coming.”
That was all he had to say. Zach was our youngest brother, and whenever he was in the room, our father’s focus was on him. Not because he was a golden child by any means, but because the kid got into more trouble than the rest of us combined. Dad frequently said he had shit for brains, but I had a feeling he was probably smarter than us all. He’d certainly learned how to get attention when the rest of us fought for any scrap we could get. It didn’t matter that the attention was negative. At least he was seen.
“Alrighty then. Going in.” I took a deep breath and started for the library door when Cole called after me.
“Word of advice? Don’t agree to anything without asking for time to think it over. Dad has a way of making it seem like you don’t have any other options, but you always do.”
“Always?” I gave him an incredulous look. From my experience, Dad’s gift was making sure there actually weren’t other options.
“Always,” he repeated.
If he believed it then...knock on wood.
Literally. I rapped three times on the library door.
“Come!” It was my father’s distracted tone. I wasn’t surprised to see him standing behind his desk, completely engaged as he shined his new pistol with a cloth. “Pre-twentieth century,” he said, holding it up for me to see. “Lion-headed ivory grip. Back when you could get tusks without all that animal rights fuss. Only had to spend twenty-five Gs.”
Thank God I didn’t have to feign interest or pretend that animal rights laws weren’t a good thing because my mother jumped in from her spot on the sofa. “Oh, good, you’re here.” Her almost pleasant expression quickly turned into a scowl as she looked at the nothing behind me. “Where’s Kendra?”
“What do you mean, where’s Kendra?” I panicked suddenly. Was she coming to dinner? This was the first I was hearing about it. Fuck, I’d underestimated how badly tonight could go.
“You didn’t invite her,” she said accusingly, and relief flooded over me despite the lecture I already knew was coming. “She’s going to be part of the family, Scott. From here on, she should be here when you are. She should be here when you aren’t. Now. Tell me. Should we do black tie or semiformal? I can’t decide.”
So we were going to get right into it. That was fine. Probably. I didn’t have to worry about buttering them up with small talk first, though maybe that put me at a disadvantage.
Either way, the path had been laid. “I’ll make it easy, Mom—the wedding’s off.”
“What? Kendra broke it off?” Mom didn’t wait for an answer before twisting toward my father. “I knew she was wishy-washy, Henry. When it took her three months to give us an answer, that should have been our first clue.” She turned back to me. “Never fear, honey. I already have Shelby Ford as a backup. She was actually my first choice, but your father insisted that the Montgomerys’ philanthropic efforts brought more to the Sebastian image.”
“She’s an heir to the automotive industry, Margo. The environmentalists will have a field day.” His eyes never left his gun.
“You agreed she would be the alternate.”
Dad peered up, ready to challenge her. Then seeming to remember that he’d made that deal in earnest, he threw his hand in the air. “Bah.” He returned his attention to his firearm. “She better return that ring.”
“She’ll return the ring,” my mother assured him. “Did she say she wanted to keep it?” This was directed back to me.
“Uh.” I paused, suddenly wishing I’d brought the scotch. The two always bickered, but normally it was all-out war. Tonight the arguing was less intense. More like they were a united front despite any surface disagreement.
Two against one. That didn’t bode well for me.
“Spit it out, Scott. Do we need to call Rudy?” Dad loved to threaten getting his lawyer involved.
Brave the fuck up. “She hasn’t said anything. She isn’t the one breaking this off. You can talk to her directly about the ring, but I don’t think it will be an issue.”
For the first time since I’d come in the room, my father truly looked at me. “What do you mean she isn’t the one breaking this off?”
My mother whipped off her reading glasses. “Did you discover a skeleton in her closet? I knew the Montgomerys weren’t as rosy as they appear to be. See, Henry?”
“I thought we’d run a thorough background check.”
We had been me . Or my people. Everyone SIC intended to work with had a background check. Always about protecting our image. So if there had been a skeleton, it made sense to assume it was me who’d found it.
I briefly considered using that as an excuse. But that would only buy me so much time, so I braved the fuck up. “No skeletons. Nothing wrong with Kendra or the Montgomerys. It’s me. I’m breaking it off.”
“What’s wrong with you then?” Dad asked, adopting his critical voice, the one that he used to bully someone into compliance.
“Nothing’s wrong with me.” Except that I’d been stupid enough to agree to this idea in the first place. “I’ve just changed my mind.”
He pressed on. “You’re realizing you aren’t ready to take over R&D, aren’t you? Of course you’re not, but you’ll be fine. Baptism by fire. You’ll have help. We won’t leave you to fuck it up on your own.”
“No, that’s not…” The better choice would be to let his words roll off my back, but I couldn’t help myself. “I’m more than ready to take over R&D, thank you very much. Compared to McAllister? He’s got his head stuck in his ass, and his ass is stuck back in 1989. I’d bring us the innovation SIC needs, and you want to worry about your image so much, that’s where it needs improvement, Dad. Stop running the company like it’s a dinosaur.”
“So then, what’s the problem? You’ll marry the girl, you’ll get the job, you’ll change the company.” He pointed the gun in my direction, which I was sure was unloaded but still felt a bit jarring.
I stared at the weapon, unsure it was the wisest idea to argue with a man holding a revolver, loaded or not. “Well, you should give me the job because I will change the company, but no. I’m not marrying the girl.”
Thankfully, he lowered his gun to the desk. “You agreed?—”
“I did,” I said, cutting him off, fearing his tone as much as the gun. “And now I’m disagreeing. I changed my mind. I’m not ready to be married.” At least, I wasn’t ready to be married to her .
My mother, who’d been studying me, narrowed her eyes. “Is this about that ethnic girl?”
“God, Mom, you’re horrible,” I said, flinching, strangely thankful to use my disgust with her prejudice as a method of deflection.
“Indian,” Dad said, as though the lack of specificity was where the issue lay.
“Iranian,” I corrected. “ Half -Iranian. Not that it fucking matters, and no.” Well, yes. “This is about me realizing I don’t want to have anything to do with an arranged marriage.”
“Ah, that’s where she gets her nice skin,” my mother mused. “Persian women have the prettiest olive tone.”
“You can still fuck around, Scott.” My father didn’t even look at his wife as he granted me permission to commit adultery. “You’re worried about losing out on all the pussy, and I’m telling you, it’s not an issue. In fact, you’d be surprised how many women are turned on by a gold band.”
“Ew, Dad.” I glanced at Mom, who was staring my father down with hate in her eyes.
Okay, so her mood was probably now a three at best. Not that I could blame her. I had to speed this up. “Look, I know what sorts of arrangements are possible in a relationship, and that’s cool if that’s what you’re into, but I’ve decided that’s not the sort of marriage I’m interested in. Okay? Not a big deal. I’ll wait to get hitched. Good thing we got this all sorted out before an official announcement was made. I’ll take care of covering any leaks that might have gotten out from the party on Saturday, call it a misunderstanding. Might even be able to use it to cover up that harassment lawsuit we have going on in the Ohio plant. Everything works out. We good? Good. See you at dinner.”
There, it was done and said, and now I was getting the fuck out of there.
I’d just turned around when my father stopped me. “Hold it right there, son.”
It was the tone no one could ignore. The big boss tone. The one he used in the boardroom or when he was tearing apart some poor innocent minion.
Slowly, I turned back around.
“You’re not getting the transfer without a wedding ring on that finger.”
“That’s a bad decision on your part, if you ask me, but I figured as much.” Totally as expected, but then I had to push it. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll get married sooner than you think. The old-fashioned way. You know, to someone I love.”
He let out a sadistic laugh. “Boy’s turned into a pansy-assed romantic. This is your fault, Margo.” As if my mother were any better of an advocate for romance than he was.
She’d checked out of the conversation, leaning on her death glare to communicate her thoughts and feelings. Fortunately, the glare was mostly aimed at my father, which was likely only going to exacerbate his anger at me.
Obviously it was not a time to argue. “Yep. Busted. I fell far from the tree it seems. Sorry to disappoint you. Oh, that’s right. You were already disappointed. So nothing’s changed.”
Okay, maybe I needed to work on how not to provoke an angry bear.
Dad pointed a stern finger at me. “And don’t you dare think you’re getting that position if you marry that Turani girl.”
“Hold up.” She wasn’t even in the room, and yet every muscle in my body went into protective mode. “You said you picked my bride, and I’d get a seat on the board. You only said I had to get married to get the transfer. You didn’t say you had to approve my marriage.” Not like I was saying I was marrying Tessa, but he needed to know the option was open.
He straightened, and though he was only an inch taller than I was, he seemed to loom. “You changed your mind, I can change my mind.”
Stand down, stand the fuck down.
I meant it for myself, but if he wanted to listen to my inner voice as well, that would be awesome.
I took a steadying breath. “Fine. I’ll stay VP of image and outreach. Been dealing with your shit so long, no one knows how to cover it up better. Everything’s back to status quo. You can go back to playing with your gun.”
I turned once more, needing to get out of the room before I socked him in the face.
“You are not marrying that girl, Scott.”
I whirled around. “I’m not marrying anyone right now, Dad. Stop getting your panties in a wad.”
“Not now, not ever.”
Walk away. Don’t be stupid, and walk away.
“Or what?” I challenged back.
That was my mistake. Standing up for the possibility of marrying a woman I still knew so little about. I should have walked away, should have agreed for the time being and dealt with his threats later when and if marrying Tess actually became a thing.
But I’d had to fight about it now.
And in doing so, I showed him my weakness. Showed him how much Tessa meant to me.
I could tell the minute he realized, the way his features pulled together into a cold, hard expression. “New deal,” he said. “You marry Kendra Montgomery as planned. You get the position in R&D, you get the spot on the board, and I’ll even get you two a nice condo as a wedding present.”
“And if I don’t?” Because I wasn’t. In the brief silence that followed, I prepared myself for his next inevitable threat. He’d fire me. That would be it, I guessed. Would I leave for Tessa? Sure. I was just pissed enough to do it. I was even looking forward to telling him. He’d be so shocked he’d wet his pants.
I was ready. Bring it on.
“If you don’t,” he said finally, “then that little women’s foundation you want SIC to sponsor? You can kiss that deal goodbye.”
Now that, I hadn’t seen coming.