Chapter Eight

~ Beck ~

A frown drew my eyebrows together as I watched Scotty stalk out of the house. He didn't even look in my direction. He just stormed out as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels.

I don't know what happened, but it had to be something monumental. Scotty was a pretty laid back guy. I don't ever remember seeing him that pissed off.

I wanted to chase after him and ask what was wrong, but I couldn't leave. I was stuck here until my father and sister were ready to leave, and they had gone to Cynthia's study several minutes ago. I was just standing here like a lump on a log feeling completely useless.

At least I had a drink in my hand.

I drank my current glass of wine and then another before Julia and my father walked back into the room. The satisfied smirk on my sister's face unsettled me enough that I actually felt pain in my chest.

Why was she so happy?

And what did it have to do with Scotty?

I didn't like this.

I tossed back the rest of my wine and then set my glass down. "Time to go?"

"Let's have a toast first," Cynthia said as she strolled in behind my father and sister. "Shall we?"

A toast?

A maid hurried into the room with a tray. Four champagne flutes sat on it, filled with a sparkling liquid. Cynthia handed them out to us one at a time.

When she was done, she held up her glass and said, "Congratulations on your engagement, my dear. May you and Maxwell have many happy years together."

Julia smirked at me and took a sip of her champagne as I stood there frozen in shock. Julia was engaged to Scotty? My Scotty?

I quickly schooled my features and took a healthy gulp of the champagne when I realized Julia was watching me like a hawk. I don't know what she was hoping to see, but I refused to let her know how much I was affected by the news of her impending marriage.

I'd rather poke my eyes out with a rusty nail.

I held my glass up and saluted her. "May your marriage be all that you hope it will be."

That was diplomatic enough, especially since I didn't mentioned Scotty's name at all. I knew there was no way he would agree to this farce, which probably explained why he had stormed out of here.

Once my champagne was gone, I set my glass on the tray the maid was still holding. "Thank you," I told her.

Her eyes widened just a bit at my words, almost as if she had never heard them before. I wouldn't be surprised if she hadn't. Cynthia didn't seem like the type to thank other people for doing things for her, even if they were paid employees.

"I'll see you next Sunday for dinner?" Cynthia asked. "I've already informed Maxwell that he is required to be here. We can start planning the engagement party then, if that works for you?"

Julia nodded. "Have you picked a date yet?"

"Is six weeks enough time?" Cynthia asked. "I have a caterer in mind. Thomas can work miracles and he always comes through for me."

"Daddy said he'd pay for the wedding if you handled the engagement party."

I wasn't surprised that my father had offered to pay for Julia's wedding. I just had to wonder where he was going to get that type of money. Considering the type of people these were, that could run into the hundreds of thousands of dollars.

He did work at a bank. Maybe he intended to rob the place. Wouldn't surprise me. There wasn't much he wouldn't do for his little princess.

"That seems reasonable," Cynthia replied. "We can go over the details and the guest list next week."

I wanted to roll my eyes at all these plans for events that would never happen. Considering what I knew of Scotty, it wasn't hard to figure out what Cynthia was holding over his head to get him to agree to this fiasco.

Scotty loved his father and only being able to see him on Cynthia's schedule was slowly killing him. I covertly glanced at the ceiling, wondering where in the house she was hiding the older man. Was he just upstairs? Was he that close? Was there a way to free him?

This was all getting to be too much for me. I needed another drink or I needed to get the hell out of here. Drinking right now was probably not in my best interest so escape was my best choice.

I let out a big yawn as I walked toward my father. I leaned in close when I reached him, speaking low. "I don't want to keep you and Julia from celebrating, but I'm going to call a taxi and head home before I fall asleep on my feet."

My father nodded absently. I doubted he even heard what I said. He was too intent on listening to Cynthia and Julia discuss engagement party plans. I waited another minute and then headed for the door. I was in no way surprised when no one paid me any attention.

I was kind of glad of it, actually.

I pulled out my cell phone and ordered a taxi to my current location as I went out the front door. I walked down the front steps and waited next to my father's car. Luckily, my ride arrived in about ten minutes.

Funny, no one ever came out to check on me.

Whatever.

Once I was in the taxi and we were on our way, I gave directions to Chelsea's apartment. I wasn't sure that was where Scotty would go, but I could hope.

When we stopped, I paid the driver and climbed out of the backseat of the vehicle. Something made me glance around when I stood on the sidewalk.

A prickling of the hair on the nap of my neck.

I felt as if someone was watching me, but I didn't see anyone paying me more attention than anyone else, but I still felt as if someone was there, watching. It gave me an unsettling feeling.

If someone was watching, why and for how long?

This was something I needed to talk to Scotty and Chelsea about, but it would have to wait until we figured out how to get Scotty out of the mess he was currently in. Keeping him from being forced to marry my sister seemed a little more important.

I stepped inside Chelsea's apartment building and made my way over to the elevator. I was glad that she lived in a building built in this century or I'd be walking up all five flights of stairs to her apartment.

I knew it was only a couple of minutes, but it felt as if the elevator ride to the fifth floor took forever. My nerves were strung so tight that my skin itched.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, I darted out and made my way down the hallway to Chelsea's apartment, knocking loudly. When the door swung open and I saw Chelsea standing there, I said, "Please tell me he's here."

Chelsea's usual smirk was gone from her face when she stepped back and gestured to her living room. "He's inside."

Oh, thank god.

I hurried into the apartment, heading straight for the living room. When I got there, I slowed before coming to a complete stop. "Scotty?"

He was sitting on Chelsea's couch, his head buried in his hands. There was a drink on the coffee table in front of him, but I don't think he'd had any of it. The glass was full.

When Scotty lifted his head and looked at me, I winced. He looked like he had just received the news that his best friend had died. His eyes were red and puffy. I wasn't sure if he had already cried or if he was trying not to cry.

Not sure it mattered.

His voice cracked when he asked, "You heard?"

"That you're supposed to be marrying my sister?" I nodded. "Cynthia was so enthused she had us toast with champagne."

Scotty pulled a piece of crumpled paper out of his pocket and tossed it at me. "She threatened to put my dad in a home if I didn't do what she wanted."

The paper had fallen to the floor right in front of me so I bent over and picked it up. It took me a moment to smooth it out, and even longer to figure out what I was looking at.

I gasped, but I wasn't sure if it was in dismay or outrage, or maybe both. "She threatened to put him here?"

How could a place like this even exist?

"She said she would put him in the dirtiest, most decrepit, and understaffed hell hole she could find and make him live there all alone until the end of his days, which, if you look at that place"—He gestured to the paper in my hand—"wouldn't be long."

I didn't doubt it.

I tossed the offending page of pictures down on the coffee table as I walked around it to sit next to Scotty. I wasn't quite sure what to say to him. He was in an impossible situation.

"Are you going to marry her?" I whispered.

"I don't know," Scotty replied.

That wasn't the answer I wanted.

"I can't let Cynthia put my father is that home, Beck. He'll die there." Scotty rubbed his hands over his face before dropping them and letting them dangle between his legs. "I told her she could have the company. I just wanted my dad. She told me she would, but she enjoys watching me squirm too much."

Huh?

"You offered her your family's company, which is probably worth millions, and she said no because she likes watching you squirm?"

Scotty snorted as he reached for his drink. "Yeah, pretty much."

That didn't make sense.

"From everything you've told me, Cynthia wouldn't give up the chance at having money like that."

"She wouldn't, and that's what is so confusing about all of this. Cynthia is already the CEO of Prescott Textiles. The money is hers. What reason could she have for forcing me to marry your sister?"

I tried to come up with an answer, but didn't have one. Watching Scotty squirm just didn't seem like a good excuse.

"I wonder what my sister is getting out of this?" I asked absently. "She's just as bad as Cynthia when it comes to money. Why would she agree to marry you?"

Scotty shook his head. "I have no idea, but I know I don't want to marry her. I'd rather marry you. You, at least, I care about. I can't stand your sister. My skin crawls every time she touches me."

Yeah, I'd seen how much Julia touched him.

"So, why don't you marry him?" Chelsea asked.

I glanced up, having forgotten she was here. "What?"

"Why don't you two get married?" Chelsea suggested. "You can drive over to the next county and get married pretty easily. If you're married, they can't force Scotty to marry Julia."

Scotty's eyebrows snapped together, and for a moment I thought he hated the idea until he said, "I'd never do that to him. If Beck and I decide to get married at some point, it'll be because we want to. Not because we were forced to."

At least the idea wasn't totally adverse to him.

"I'd do it," I admitted. "I mean, yeah, I had hoped that our relationship would eventually head there anyway, but if we have to marry a little early, I'm okay with that."

The frown was still on Scotty's face when he turned to look at me. "Beck—"

"Do you love me?"

I held my breath as I waited for Scotty to answer.

"Yes, but—"

"No buts," I said firmly as a smile began to spread across my face. "I love you, too, so why shouldn't we get married to save you from my sister?"

"What about my father?"

My shoulders slumped. "I don't know."

"Why can't we kidnap him?"

We both turned to look at Chelsea.

My eyebrows lifted as I stared at the woman. "You want us to kidnap Scotty's father?"

"Well, yeah," she replied. "I mean, obviously we couldn't bring him back here or take him to either of your apartments, but there's got to be somewhere we can take him where he'd be safe."

I jerked when Scotty suddenly got to his feet and walked several feet away. I swallowed tightly, wondering if he was upset about all this marriage talk, until he pulled out his cell phone.

"Who are you calling?"

"An old frat brother of mine," Scotty answered as he dialed and then held the phone to his ear. "He's a lawyer. I called him once when Cynthia refused to let me see my dad, thinking he might know of what I could do, but he was out of the office so I just left a message. I never followed up because Cynthia let me see my dad the next week."

"You think he's in the office now?" I asked. "It's almost eleven o'clock."

Did lawyers keep late hours?