Chapter One

The Marriage Secret

Marriage Mayhem 6

AJA FOXX

Copyright ? 2024

~ Scotty ~

"I got a promotion."

I was still wondering how the fuck that had happened?

"You what?" my co-worker Fredrick Wilson asked as he sat down in the booth across from me.

"I got a promotion." I swallow down my disbelief. "Mr. Henderson gave me a promotion. Level three accounts."

When he called me to his office, I had been sure I was about to be fired. Granted, I couldn't think of a reason to be fired, but it happened all the time. The turnover rate in the accounting department was epic.

"Holy fucking shit!" Freddy's eyes are huge. "Level three. That's awesome."

It was kind of awesome.

I'd started at out at entry level with the company when I had returned after my father had a stroke. Instead of taking over my father's company as I thought I would be doing, I had been forced to start at the bottom doing data entry for various accounts.

Over time, I'd attended as much night school as I could afford on my meager salary and finally finished my degree in accounting a few years ago. The sleepless nights had paid off and I'd been promoted to the accounting department.

Now, I'd gone from level one accounts, which were just basic accounts, to level three, mid-level accounts. My goal was to eventually make it to the top of the accounting department.

Since my stepmother ran the company, I knew I would never make it to CEO, even if I had been promised that position since birth by my father. She would make sure of that.

Cynthia Prescott was in total charge of Prescott Textiles, and of me. I had to do whatever she wanted if I wanted access to my father, who still suffered from the stroke he'd had ten years ago.

It was a price I willingly paid to see my father once a week.

"We should celebrate," Freddy said. "I'll call the guys and have them join us."

That actually sounded pretty good, and it was Friday. I didn't have to report back for work for two more days. I didn't get to visit my father until Sunday.

I was only ever able to visit my father on Sundays.

"I'll order us some drinks."

Freddy nodded absently as he pulled out his cell phone and started tapping away. I got up and made my way over to the bar, waving down the bartender.

As I waited for him to finish helping another customer, I took the time to admire the handsome man. He was a few inches shorter than me, but still tall enough.

He had short brown hair cut high on the sides and back, but longer on top. I suspected he used some sort of hair product to give that artful messy look as if he had just climbed out of bed. There was a bit of a hair on his chin and a mustache, both of which framed his plush lips perfectly.

The deep brown eyes were a surprised, especially when they widened when the man looked in my direction. The wide grin that came immediately after was ego boosting.

"What can I get you?"

"I need two cherry bombs."

"Cherry bombs." I got a squint of confusion. "I don't think I've actually heard of that drink before."

"Oh, it's easy to make."

"Yeah?" When the guy rested his hand on the bar top, his finger grazed my hand. I thought it was an accident until he brushed my hand again.

I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Just how do you make it, handsome?"

Okay, so it hadn't been an accident.

"Got a piece of paper and a pen?" I asked. "I can write it down for you."

The guy winked at me. "Sure."

He grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from next to the cash register and brought it back to me. I quickly wrote down all of the ingredients, including the amounts for each, and then, after shooting a quick look toward the table where Freddy sat, I added my phone number near the top.

The bartender picked it up and stared down at it for a moment before another wide grin crossed his lips. "I think I have everything you need."

"Oh, I'm sure you do."

He set two glasses down in front of him, added ice to both of them and then grabbed a mixing glass. With paper in hand, he went to the rows of alcohol on the shelf behind him. One by one, he grabbed them and added them to the mixing glass.

Once he had everything mixed, he held up the piece of paper. "Mind if I keep this?"

"I'd be sad if you didn't."

"I'm Beck," he said as he set the two cherry bombs in front of me.

"Scotty," I replied.

"Enjoy you're drinks, Scotty."

"Oh, I'm sure I will." I'd enjoy it more if my friends were gone and I could openly flirt with Beck, and man, I wanted to flirt with him. It wasn't often I met someone as sexy as him that was interested.

The things I wanted to do to that man.

Hopefully, he'd use that phone number I gave him and call me.

* * * *

I frowned as I stared down at my phone as it rang. I had a stack of files in one arm and a cup of coffee in the other. I was also getting ready to attend a department meeting. I didn't have time for a phone call or a free hand to answer my phone.

When the phone continued to ring, I set everything down on the large table in the middle of the conference room table and grabbed my phone. I didn't recognize the phone number.

"Hello?"

"Scotty?"

Sounded like someone that knew me.

"Yes, this is Scotty."

"Hey, handsome, this is Beck...uh...James Beckerman. We met at a bar where I work a few nights ago."

My eyes darted to the door as other employees in the company started pouring in. I did not want anyone to overhear this conversation.

"Hey, I'm getting ready to attend a meeting. Can I call you back?"

There was a small hesitation before Beck answered, "Yeah, sure."

He hung up before I could assure him that I would call. Now that he had made contact with me, there was no way in hell I wasn't going to call him back.

I just had to get through this meeting first.

I inwardly cringed when my stepmother walked in with Mr. Henderson. I didn't like either of them. I couldn't prove it, but I was positive that the two of them were in bed together.

I didn't begrudge my stepmother from finding solace in another man's arms considering my father had been pretty much a human vegetable for the last decade, but she should have divorced my father first.

Contrary to popular belief, marriage vows were a thing.

My mother died when I was still in diapers. My father had married Cynthia when I was ten years old. At first, I had been excited to be gaining a new mother until I realized she wanted to be married to Jonathan Prescott. She did not want his kid.

Besides the woman's complete lack of loyalty to her marriage vows, what I hated about the woman was her personality. I never in my life thought I would use a disparaging word against a woman, but Cynthia was a bitch, plain and simple.

While she had not been physically abusive when I was a kid, her behavior had been just as bad. She'd been verbally and emotionally abusive. Most of that had stopped when I became an adult, at least in public. Behind the scenes, she made it perfectly clear what she thought of me.

Being legally married to my father, Cynthia got to make the decisions concerning his care. Part of that was allowing me access to my father. Only by towing the line and doing exactly what she wanted was I allowed to see him, and then only once a week.

If I could figure out how to get my father away from her, even if I kidnapped him, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, she had him under lock and key, and one very nasty nurse.

I jumped, pulling from my thoughts, when someone nudged me. I glanced to my right to Freddy. When he gestured to the front of the room, I realized the meeting had started.

As much as I hated these weekly meetings, I knew I had to pay attention. If I missed something and Cynthia asked me about it later, I could jeopardize my chance to see my father this week, and I'd do anything to prevent that.

The next hour was spent hearing stuff I'd already heard before, making notes just so I could prove that I had paid attention, and wishing I was anywhere except where I was.

Why we had to have these weekly meetings I would never know. It wasn't as if we were learning anything new. It was just the same shit over and over again.

I suspected that was because my stepmother was driving the company my grandfather had started into the ground. We hadn't had a single new account in over five years, although we had lost several since she had been in charge.

Prescott Textiles was a textile mill. We took cotton and wool and turned it into fabric. I had tried suggesting that we get into silk, but that idea had been promptly shot down by Cynthia.

She swore up and down that she refused to change the way my father had done things, but I knew she just didn't want to make the effort. She was a lazy bitch that just wanted to reap the benefits of being my father's wife and the temporary CEO of the company.

I was up and out of the conference room the second the meeting was over. Thankfully, it was lunchtime. It was one measly hour, but it would give me the time I needed to release some of the tension those meetings beat against my nerves.

I briefly stopped by my cubicle to drop off my notes and then headed out. There was a really nice bistro not far from the office, but that wasn't my final destination. I planned to grab lunch from the bistro and then go to the waterfront park across the street.

I needed privacy to return Beck's phone call.

Yes, I was gay and very interested in what Beck's sparkling brown eyes had promised, but no, I was not out of the closet.

Okay, I was, but I wasn't.

I knew I was gay. I'd known since I was like twelve years old when I grew more interested in boys than girls. My father was very aware of my sexual preference and had no issue with it.

The problem, as always, was with my stepmother. Cynthia had made it abundantly clear when I was a teenager that being gay was not allowed. I could do whatever I wanted behind closed doors, but in public I needed to be as straight as an arrow.

Cynthia had some asinine theory that we needed to look like a wholesome family to the general public for the image of the company. It was all bullshit, but once again she held visits with my father over my head, so I had to toe the line if I wanted to see him.

I parked in front of the bistro and then went inside to order a sandwich and something to drink. I didn't really care about what it was as long as it was filling and didn't drip all over my suit.

With lunch in hand, I made my way across the street to the park. Luckily, it was a big park. It went along the waterfront and gave anyone enjoying the place a nice view of the boats going up and down the river.

I found a nice out of the way bench and sat down to eat my lunch. I took a few bites of my sandwich before digging my phone out and dialing Beck back.

As soon as the line connected I said, "Hi, it's Scotty, I—"

I frowned as I stared down at my phone.

He'd hung up on me.

Maybe he'd had a meeting, too. With the hope that he wasn't blowing me off, I dialed him back, but it went to voicemail.

"Hey, this is Scotty," I started as soon as Beck's voice told me to leave a message. "We got cut off. I just wanted to call you back and touch base with you. I was hoping we could maybe have dinner or something." I drew in a deep breath. "Anyway, call me if you're interested. I work until five, but I'm available any time after that."

Now, the ball was in his court.