Page 93 of Shadow's Surrender
Chapter Twenty
Cursing under herbreath, Scarlett zigzagged her vehicle through traffic with one foot on the accelerator and one hand on the horn. Tour buses packed with people hanging out the windows and taking pictures crawled through the streets.
“Take a picture of a tree because you don’t have any where you’re from. So fucking ridiculous!” she griped out loud as she blared the horn at a group of pedestrians ready to cross against the light.
The tires of the Mercedes squealed as she rounded the corner too fast. Deep breaths and a death grip on the steering wheel didn’t do much to extinguish the burning anger with her dad. That morning, before Shadow had left for work, he’d told her about her dad coming by the warehouse the day before. At first she couldn’t believe it, and then the anger began to build until it bubbled over well after Shadow had left. What her dad did was out of control.I’m a grown woman. I’m so damn sick of being told what to do. It’s my life.She slammed the heel of her hand against the steering wheel and winced as pain shot up her forearm.
It wasn’t that Scarlett thought her parents would accept Shadow, it was just that she’d hoped they’d at leastrespecther decision.Dad is such a bully.A smile tugged at her lips when she pictured Shadow telling her father to leave.I guess you’ve met your match, Dad.
When the Mercedes slowed down, Scarlett pressed the remote and the tall iron gates swung open; she drove through and headed up the driveway toward the five-car garage. She knew her mom was at a charity event with several of her friends, thus the reason Scarlett picked this moment to confront her dad. He refused to go to the majority of the charity fundraisers to which her mother was invited, opting to only attend the black tie events on Saturday nights. He blamed his busy work schedule as the reason he begged off most of the time, but Scarlett suspected that her dad preferred the company of other women to that of her mother. From what she had witnessed over the years, her parents’ marriage seemed to be one of convenience more than of love and companionship.
Just short of running the Mercedes into the wall, Scarlett stormed out of the car and into the house. She rushed past Clara and Jane with a mere wave of her hand and a quick “Hello” and crossed through the massive dining room until she arrived at her father’s office. The carved cherry wood door was cracked open a sliver, and Scarlett was just ready to charge through when she heard the voice of Warren’s father.
What the hell is Mr. Huntington doing over here?Her parents weren’t good friends with the family even though they constantly told Scarlett how wonderful the Huntingtons were and how lucky she was that Warren was interested in her. It had grated on her nerves most of the time and made her want to gag whenever they started the whole “Warren is such a nice man” broken record.
“I’m asking you again, George—what the fuck are you going to do about this?” Bruce Huntington’s voice boomed.
“I’m trying to make the young man understand how foolish the situation is since Scarlett is hellbent on carrying out her rebellion.” Her dad’s voice sounded frustrated … and tired, a string of guilt pulled at her heart.
“That’s not good enough. This lowlife biker is seeing dollar signs, so he’s not going to just walk away. You have to fight insolence with a strong and heavy hand.”
There was a long pause followed by the sound of ice cubes clinking against glass. She imagined her dad pouring his favorite whiskey into the tumbler, then taking a long drink. Thethumpof the glass meant it hit either the wood desk or the end table, if they were seated next to the fireplace.
“Seems like your boy couldn’t keep my daughter interested. It’s a phase she’s going through and it’ll pass. I’m a patient man when I have to be,” her dad said.
“Patient my ass! And Warren did everything a gentleman should do with a woman. He can’t help it if Scarlett likes trash. You and I had a deal, George. I can’t wait any longer.”
A deal? Iknewit! Dad and Mr. Huntington were using me and Warren as bargaining chips in their damn merger.Heat rushed to her face and she pressed her hands lightly against her warm cheeks.
“I still want to develop the area, Bruce. I’m not reneging on the deal to buy your land. It’s pretty obvious that Scarlett doesn’t want your son. Her hooking up with this biker is my problem, not yours.”
“The deal was that they would marry,” Bruce Huntington said in a low voice. “Warren needs to marry Scarlett, and you need to make sure that happens.”
There was a loud, deep laugh. “Your son doesn’t need to do shit. I just said that Scarlett isn’t fancying Warren—it happens. We can draw up the papers this week for the land sale.”
The initial bargain was for me to marry Warren for a land deal. How cold can you get?
“I want them married—that was what we agreed on.” Ice dripped from Bruce’s words.
“It didn’t work out. I’m not going to make my daughter marry someone she doesn’t want. If you don’t wish to sell the land, that’s another thing. I’d like it, but I also have my eye on some other properties in the area.”
“No … I still want to sell the land.” Panic laced Huntington’s voice. “I’ll take care of this dirtbag—don’t you worry about that.”
Scarlett put her hand over her mouth to keep a gasp from escaping.
“Just let it be, Bruce.”
“When someone fucks withmeand my son, it becomesmyproblem. You should be enraged by this shit.”
Unable to contain herself anymore, Scarlett pushed open the door and stalked into the room, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at her dad, then at Warren’s father.
“And whatshitare you talking about?” Satisfaction wove through her when she scanned both of their startled faces. “If you’re talking about Shadow and me, Mr. Huntington, then I have to say that it’s none of your business what I do or whom I date.” A flash of anger rankled over her skin, like goosebumps raised by frigid air.
“Scarlett, what do you mean by bursting in here? We’re having a private conversation.” A frown pinched a space between her dad’s brows as he turned the crystal tumbler around in his hand.
“A conversation aboutme.”
With a huff, Bruce Huntington pushed up from the leather wingback chair, threw her a dirty look, then shook his head. “Manners are lost on the young today.” He picked up a brown leather briefcase. “We’ll be in touch, George.” Not even deigning a glance in her direction, he marched out of the study.
