1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Caleb

Y ou want me to what ?” I practically shout at da, and as I turn, I immediately regret taking that tone with him. His eyes are dark, his mouth set, his expression stone cold, like he’s about to strike me. It wouldn’t be a first. Even as I stand here, thirty-two years old, fully grown, I’m as tall as him but I’m nearly twice his girth, and I’m still scared shitless of the man. “Da, are you crazy? You want me to marry this girl? Why, I’ve never even met her, and what I do know of her, Laney McAdams is the biggest bitch on the planet! Did you not read about what she did to President Trump?”

“I don’t really care what she did or to whom, Caleb. And I don’t care if you know her or not. That is your task, son, and I’ve never given you a task that I didn’t believe you could accomplish.”

Da, he’s all about backhanded compliments. “But this is insane, da. Why would I want to marry? Least of all her?”

His gaze sears into mine. “You know exactly why, Caleb. The McAdams family is the only clan that rivals ours, and if we want to have a stake in that, this is the only way to do it.” He flails his hand in the air. “Rupert McAdams is not a man to fuck with, Caleb. The only way to get under his radar is to soften the bastard up, and his only daughter Laney is the ticket.” He pulls up a photo of Laney and Rupert, from an article in his phone. “Look here. See that look in his eyes? That’s love, son.”

An expression I have yet to see on da’s face. Even with mama he doesn’t look like that. But then, Fiona Harris is just about as relentless. In fact, that is the glue that holds their thirty-five-year marriage together. That, and money. Billions and billions of dollars of it. The truth is, that’s how mama and da got together. Papa set them up before he died. He wanted the family business to be in good hands. Since then, Harris Investments has soared, acquiring other companies, further building the Harris empire.

“Love or not, don’t you think it’s going to be a little transparent? Me going after Laney? The son of one of the richest men in Scotland, trying to court the daughter of Rupert McAdams, another one of the richest men in Scotland?”

“Caleb, don't patronize me. I did not raise a fool.”

“But da, why can't you set up Murdock, he's the one who's looking to take a wife.”

“And that's precisely why I am not getting him mixed up in this. He's just looking to get his dick wet on a regular basis and I need someone who is going to think with his head.”

“So, you're suggesting that I propose marriage to Laney, and that's going to be the key into the McAdams empire, is it?”

Da lifts a hand in frustration. “I don't care how you do it, Caleb. But I know that you are the best damn Harris kid to do it. I've seen those silly magazines with your face plastered all over them, pegging you as America's best eligible bachelor.

“So, I’m like a blue chip, am I?” I comment, not trying to hide the snark in my voice. Once again, I immediately regret taking that tone, as his eyes turn into daggers immediately.

“You were born into this family with all the same privileges as the rest, Caleb. We have all had to make sacrifices for this family, and you, son, are no different. So, do not think yourself to be more special than the others. I brought you into this family, and I can take you out, just as easily.” Spittle flies out of da’s mouth as he speaks. I know better than to press on.

I see the company jet from the window, da comes over and nods to the pilot, indicating that he can start the engine, taking me back to America, away from Scotland, my homeland, again. This is da’s way of telling me that the conversation is over. He leaves the room without a goodbye, without asking about the other project that I'm working on for him, that seems to be working itself out perfectly. I look at my phone and see the numerous messages from my various spies holding down the fort in North Carolina, while I'm briefly here in Scotland, for an emergency meeting with da.

The Ford brothers have recently signed with us, and in an attempt to protect my investment, as is the normal practice, my spies have been watching them. Like my family, those boys have had their own share of trouble. And I knew that unless I took some sort of action, that my newest investment would be sullied.

I look down at the helicopter, watching the blades rotate, readying to take me to the airport, where I can ride our private jet back to America. By the messages left from my spies, it seems that a meeting with Beckett Ford is in order, so my departure from Scotland could not have come at a better time.

On the journey back to America, I research Laney McAdams further, noting her veiled insult to former President Trump. But after researching the various billionaire moguls that she has rubbed elbows with, it appears more and more obvious that perhaps all of her moves are just as strategically placed as mine. And I start to wonder if perhaps I have met my match.

Laney McAdams, on the surface, does not appear to be a soft woman. As I dig deeper, I read that her father seems to be a carbon copy of my own father. This will not be something taken lightly. This is not a simple negotiation, no, this is a matter of the heart. And then the more I think about it, I wonder…is it? Perhaps her father has a similar plan in mind, and if I can convince Laney that we should be in cahoots, that could be the answer.

But I'll have to test that theory very carefully.

When I arrive back on American soil, I’ve now made a new request of one of my spies, and it seems that he has pulled through for me. Shortly thereafter, I find myself at a local bar, and as I sit on a barstool, I look across the way and see none other than Laney McAdams herself. She’s with a bunch of women who I think I recognize. Another is a billionaire, but they don’t look to be discussing business. Then again, one would be surprised how many business deals go down inside grubby establishments such as this.

Eyes scanning the band of women, I realize that this visit isn’t at all for business, and I credit my spy for seeking her out here, outside of her natural habitat. The bartender is picking up on me watching her, and I quickly come up with a plan that doesn’t make it seem like I’m checking her out. “That’s Laney McAdams.” I thumb her way. “Billionaire. Tried to make Trump look like a chump?”

He smiles as he dries the inside of a beer stein with a plaid towel. “That who it is? Some guy tried to hit on her and got shot down real quick. You ought to watch your back with her.”

“I had no intention of doing anything like that, dude.”

“Sure.” He nods, unconvinced.

I ignore him, as I look over at her again, but she’d sooner notice if a bomb went off in this place. It looks like some bachelorette party, but then I see the guest of honor wearing a black sash around her body, and I realize that it’s exactly the opposite. It’s a reverse bachelorette party: a divorce party. I thumb over to her again, not caring if the bartender is still getting the wrong impression. “ There’s something you don’t see every day.”

“Maybe you don’t.” He states, matter-of-factly. “I see them all the damn time.” He scoffs. “More than goddamn bachelorette parties.”

I’m shocked. “Really.”

He nods. “I think that chick is Brandy Elfman. Big time in the NYSE. Not sure what she’s doing out here.”

“Probably came out to see Laney. Help celebrate her divorce.” I pause. “How do you know about stocks?”

“Don’t let the smock fool you.” He states. “This bar is one of my investments.”

I lift my brows. “And you work here? Why not hire someone to pass the beers around?”

“I could say the same thing to you. I know who you are. I’m an observer of human nature. That’s how come I work here. I’ve also got a five-star restaurant and a hotel in the city. I work when I want. But I’m also heavy into stocks. That’s how I buy these places.”

He’s about my age, with that clear look in his eyes indicating that he’s a man who knows things. He’s not full of shit. I can tell the difference. I decide to go for cocky. “How come you didn’t try to pick Laney McAdams up?”

He holds his hand out for me to shake. “Bruce Sutherington. My wife is Amy Sutherington, the famous chef you see on the Food Network.”

Recognition comes to my face. “No shit. I’ve heard of her. My mama’s told the cooks to use some of her recipes.”

“I’ll tell her that.” He nods, smiling. He releases my hand. “So, what’s your deal with Ms. McAdams?”

I wave. “Ah, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, man.”

“Is it some Scottish thing?” He jokes, as a waitress brings him a drink order. He’s finished polishing the beer steins and he’s put them away. As he starts filling the order, he hands me another beer, even though I didn’t ask for it.

“Na, it’s nothing.”

“Well, if you ask me, I’d steer clear of her. Like I said, she’s stung a few guys in here tonight.”

I look over at her, and our eyes meet. Her gaze is telling. Although she’s drunk, she’s not here to play. The look says that she’s going to tear me in two if I make any attempt on her. But then I watch her whisper something into Brandy’s ear and rise. Although a tad wobbly, her strut is clear. This is a confident woman, and our gazes are glued together as she walks my way.

Bruce has the grace to mind his business and hand the waitress her drink order as Laney finally reaches me. When she’s inches from me, she sticks her hand out for me to shake. I feel like neither of us needs an introduction. “Laney.” She says. “But I assume you already knew that.” Her Scottish drawl matches mine.

“Yes, I did know that, lass.” I tell her. “Am I a fool if I assume you know who I am?”

“Caleb, right?” She guesses, but something tells me it’s not a guess.

I nod. “I presume our bank accounts look rather similar.”

She smiles all too sweetly. “I never talk about money in a bar.”

“That makes two of us then, lass.”

“So, you’re here to see me then.” She states shrewdly.

“I came for a drink, actually. And to meet a friend.” I half lie. I have every intention of meeting up with Beckett Ford shortly, I just had to lick my wounds first before calling him.

“If that isn’t a lie, I don’t know what is.” Laney says, taking my beer and sipping it, as if I’ve offered. I’m not sure what to make of that. No woman has ever just helped themselves like that. I could have fucking Leprosy for all she knows. Judging by the table she’s at, and the wine glasses strewn about, I’d say that she’s not drinking from a bottle, as I am. Not sure what that move means on her part.

“Alright, fine. I am here to see you.” I admit, testing the waters. “As a matter of fact, my da thinks that we should get married.”

Her expression doesn’t waver. She’s not shocked. She’s not even rattled. I wish I could figure her out. “Well, that would be a match made in heaven, wouldn’t it.”

“So, you’ve thought about it. Or your da wants you to marry me, too.” I guess.

She ignores my comment. “Truth is, I wouldn’t marry any man. I’m not the marrying type.”

“Nor am I, lass.”

Eyes giving me an evaluating glance that strangely tickles me behind the zipper, she scoffs, but the smile on her face is devious. “Tell me, then, Caleb. Why did you seek me out if you’re not the marrying type?”

I go for cute. “I presume your da is a relentless asshole like mine?”

Her lips touch the mouth of my bottle again. She’s drinking nearly half of it, but I’m so intrigued by this woman, that I don’t care. “That’s where you’re wrong, mister Harris. Rupert McAdams is the most caring father in the world. I’ve got him wrapped around my finger. He’d never suggest I do anything I don’t want to do.”

“Then why aren’t you laughing at me, telling me I haven’t got a chance?”

Her brows knit together. “Oh, Caleb, I didn’t take you for a fool. I thought we were on the same page here.”

“Are you saying that I haven’t got a chance?”

“I told you so, if you were listening.”

“I was listening. You’re fucking drunk, lass.”

“I’m not drunk enough to skip over the fact that your cock is awake, Caleb. And I’m not interested in humoring it, now or any time.”

I laugh without a trace of mirth. “You are something else. You’re the one that came to me. If you knew that I was here for you and you had no intention of making any sort of exchange, then why did you come over here, unless you just wanted to play your little cock tease game, Laney McFucking Adams, hm? What, do you get off on this twisted shit?”

Eyes pinned on me, she drains my beer, sets it on the bar, coming close enough to me that I could kiss her lips. I have half a mind to grab her and kiss her like a madman, but somehow, I think that will spur her on. I picture her the type to bite my lip until it bleeds, tie my hands above my head and torture me with her physical play, and it irks me to no end that I don’t know if that turns me on further, or turns my stomach. It seems like equal parts of both.

“I came over, because I’ve always wanted to meet the man that all the weak women pine over, the man that’s played like a pawn in his heartless father’s fucking game. And I’m glad that I did, because now I know that you are every bit a little pawn, a victim of your own family, of your hormones, of yourself. And that, Caleb Harris, is why I would never sink so low as to even touch you. So, you can go back to your da and tell him that he’s got a better chance of donating every cent of his billions to the fucking Salvation Army, than he’s got of us getting together. And I can go back to my da and tell him that his estimations were true. That Dougall Harris, in fact, wanted to marry us, and likely to get his tentacles into our business.”

Her face is so close to mine I can smell the beer on her breath. As much as I’m hating every word that she’s uttering, my cock stands fully up, and I hate her for it. This woman is a seductress, a manipulative, cock teasing bitch, and as much as I want to slap the sultry, ‘I’ll eat you for breakfast’ look on her face off it, I also want to press her up against the wall and fuck her brains out, stuff my cock into that filthy mouth of hers, and shove my seed down her throat until her eyes bulge, but my chest heaves with rage, as much as my cock throbs, and suddenly I’m almost scared.

“Get your fucking face out of mine, you bitch.” I seethe. “You ever speak to me like that again, and I’ll paste on every goddamn social media outlet how much of a cock teasing whore you are. You’ll notice that you are the one invading my personal space, drinking my fucking beer, and harassing me, Laney McAdams. I’d use the expression ‘lady’, but somehow, I think, for you, that term would have to be used loosely.”

She smiles sweetly. “Oh, Caleb, I was wrong about you. You are such a fool.”

“I suppose I am, but I’d be even more of a fool if I let you drool all over me for another second, you horny fucking bitch. You don’t think I recognize you coming on to me?”

Laney laughs out loud. “And you’re telling me it’s not working? Why, I bet your little cock is peeking out of the top of your britches, isn’t it.”

“Swine.” I seethe. I want to push her away so badly, but we seem to have an audience. “I bet you’re just as wet, lass. I bet your panties are dripping down your fucking leg right now.”

Another laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to think so.”

“It’s true. Otherwise you wouldn’t have your face pressed up against mine, and you wouldn’t be wasting your time talking to me, unless you were truly a fucking horny little wench.”

She puts her hand over her mouth and laughs into it, truly humored, but there is still something in her eyes. What, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just that she really is that drunk. I have no idea how much she’s had, but judging by her swagger here, I’d say a lot. Plus, she literally just downed my entire beer, in less than five minutes. “Do you want to go back there and I’ll prove it? I am no more turned on than I am sober.”

Bruce hands her another beer, stupidly. We exchange a look. Not sure what he’s trying to convey. It’s half a ‘stop talking to her, you moron’, and half, ‘you go, buddy, use the back room’. Nonetheless, he gives her another beer, and replaces mine that she drank, as she continues her charade.

“Then all you are is one of them lasses that comes on to men when you’ve got a few in you, or in your case, a lot in you, because it’s safe, and you can be vulnerable all you like, and claim you were too drunk to know what you were doing. Twenty bucks says that if we go in that back room, you’d cower away, like the little fucking virgin that daddy likes you to be.”

That hit a nerve. “Fuck you, Caleb.” She growls, takes her beer, and I know that she wants to spit in my face so badly, but she refrains, punctuating the fact that she’s not drunk enough that she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing.

“Fuck you, too, Laney.” I chuckle, taking a sip of beer, feeling like my mission is accomplished.

That’s when one of my spies messages me with another shocking bit of news, this one way more interesting than Laney showing up in a local bar, tanked to the gills.

…and then I make that phone call that I’d been meaning to make before I set my eyes on the biggest bitch on the planet…my potential future fucking bride.