“Everything I've ever done is for you. For this family,” he says. “All I'm asking is that you – you know – help me out in my time of need.”
“Dad, helping you out in a time of need is one thing. That's like, loaning you money or something,” I say, still in shock over his request. “What you're asking me to do is something else entirely. You're asking me to give up my entire life and marry some guy I don't know.”
“We can have a dinner here,” he says. “I'll invite Armando and you can get to know him.”
“Oh, great,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my tongue. “I'm sure a dinner party will be fantastic and make me forget that you're asking me to give up my life.”
“Please,” Ian snaps. “Do you have to be so damn dramatic?”
I round on him, rage burning in my eyes. “Are you even fucking kidding me right now, Ian?” I snap. “You're not the one being asked to be perfectly fine with being sold off like goddamn cattle or something.”
“What a damn drama queen,” Ian snaps back. “It's not like –”
“Enough!” our father roars.
There's a long, tense silence in the room and I look down at my hands in my lap, my heart and mind churning with thoughts and emotions I can't describe, let alone express. I can't believe that my own father is asking me to marry a man that I don't know – just to square up his own debt. The fear I felt for him earlier has evaporated and has been replaced by a deep, fiery rage.
My father turns to me, working his jaw, doing his best to control his temper. “Holly, all I've ever done my whole life is think of you kids. To try and do right by both of you,” he says. “I built this company and worked so hard to make it a success to give you all of the advantages I never had when I was growing up.”
“Dad I never –”
“Jesus Christ, Holly,” Ian shouts. “Could you stop thinking about yourself for a change? Dad needs help and he's asking you –”
“He's asking me to be a whore,” I shout back. “To sell myself to this man to pay off his debt!”
“I'm asking for your help,” my father says, his voice stern. “I'm asking you to think about all I've done for you throughout your life – your fancy private school, your college, everything I've done for you – and help me out for a change.”
I look away from him, staring at my hands. I can't believe what he's asking me to do – that he is essentially trying to whore me out. He can try to dress it up any way he wants, but that's basically what he's asking me to do.
“Holly,” he says, his voice softer than before. “I know that I'm asking a lot of you. But, this doesn't have to be forever. It can be a temporary thing. Give it a couple of years and if you're not happy, leave him. Divorce. Whatever. I just really need you to think of me, think of the family here.”
I stare at him blankly, suddenly feeling numb. Disgusted. I'm trying to wrap my head around this all and am failing miserably at it. How could he ask such a thing of me?
“What happens if I say no?” I ask
He shrugs and shakes his head. “I really don't know.”
“I take it this man you owe money to is a bad man.”
He looks me in the eye for a moment and I see the shame flash through his gaze. He quickly looks away and nods.
“Very bad,” I say.
“Why in the hell did you get involved with him in the first place?”
He sighs. “I was desperate, Holly,” he says. “And I didn't know who he was at the time. What he was. If I knew, I never would have done business with him to start with. It was a bad decision. I see that now.”
“And the only way for you to get out of it is to sell me to this man's son,” I say, a statement, not a question.
“I wish you wouldn't see it like that,” my father says.
“Is there another way to see it?”
“How about you see it as helping your family for a change,” Ian snaps. “Instead of being the selfish bitch you always are.”
“Ian,” my father says. “Stop.”
I look at Ian and then at my father, feeling all the fight go out of me. I feel drained. Emotionally spent. I get to my feet and look down at both of them for a long moment.
“Holly,” my father says.
I shake my head and without another word, turn and run out of the house, my father's voice as he calls my name chasing me the entire way. I slam the front door behind me and run to my car, jumping behind the wheel and taking off as fast as I can. By the time I get to the end of his driveway, tears are rolling down my cheeks, blurring my vision.
Twenty minutes later, I somehow make it home without getting myself into a wreck. I don’t know how I managed it, but I did. Immediately after walking through my door, I grabbed a bag and started throwing clothes into it. When I was packed, I grab my phone and punch in Gabby's number.
“What's up, girl?” she asks.
“Road trip,” I say. “I need to get out of here for a bit. I'll pick you up in fifteen?”
“Can't wait,” she squeals.
Disconnecting the call, I head down to my car, my mind still awash in anger and disbelief.
Chapter Six
Brayden
“Dude, this is exactly what I needed,” Trey says. “God bless you, sir.”
I laugh and raise my glass, giving my buddy a salute. “Seemed like a good time to get away from the office for a bit.”
We're standing at the bar in Club Myst, one of the trendiest nightclubs in Las Vegas. The music is loud, and people are grinding, bodies close together, on the dance floor. The lighting inside the club is dim, and everything is done in dark woods and a dark color scheme. The ceiling is dotted with lights that are, I’m guessing, supposed to look like stars, and the ground is covered in a foot-deep mist that's lit a deep green from underneath, giving the room a strange, mystical glow.
The place is a little too emo and goth for me, but people said it's the club to check out. That it's the hottest club in Vegas and that it caters to a clientele that would be to our liking. The translation of that, of course, is that the club will have plenty of hot chicks looking for a hook up.
Which is exactly what the doctor ordered for my good buddy, Trey. Something to take his mind off that cheating slag.
“Well, looky here, buddy,” I say.
I motion to two women standing near the bar together. A tall, leggy blonde in a short red dress looks over at Trey and flashes him a demure smile before quickly turning away and giggling to her friend.
“Contact,” I say.
Trey looks at me, giving me the grin of a man who's enjoying his buzz. The blonde looks at him again and Trey downs the last of his drink, slamming the glass down on the bar.
“Go get her, champ,” I say.
“Come with me,” he says. “Her brunette friend is pretty hot.”
“I'm good,” I reply. “We're here in Vegas for you, man. Go, sow your wild oats or whatever the hell you're gonna do.”
He claps me on the shoulder. “You're a good man, Charlie Brown.”
“Yeah, don't be spreading that shit around,” I say. “I've got a reputation to uphold.”
Trey laughs and shakes his head. “You realize you're not nearly the asshole you like people to think you are.”
I shrug. “They don't know that,” I say. “And I prefer to keep it that way.”
Trey laughs and starts to turn away, but I reach out and grab his arm to stop him as a thought suddenly occurs to me.
“Seriously,” I say. “Don't forget to wrap it up.”
He cocks his head and looks at me, a goofy, half-drunk grin on his face.
“That last thing you want is a kid running around,” I say. “You don't need some random club chick
getting her hooks into you like that, man. Be smart. Use your head – and not the one attached to your dick.”
Trey laughs and punches me in the shoulder again. “Appreciate the concern,” he says and pats his jacket pocket. “I got it covered though.”
“Good to know you planned ahead like a good Boy Scout,” I say and laugh.
“Hey, I'm rich, smart, good-looking, and young,” he says. “What chick isn't going to want to bang the hell out of me?”