Somewhere deep down – down so far, I often forget it's even there – I love my brother. I just can't stand him. Ian is a product of wealth. He's spoiled. Entitled. He thinks that because he comes from money, he walks on water and that people should cater to him. And when they don't bend over backward for him, he throws a fit.
Although we come from the same family, we couldn’t possibly be any more different from one another. Perhaps it's because my father took a direct role in raising Ian – he has many of the same annoyingly entitled behaviors and attitudes that our father has. Some of the things they say, views they express about “lesser” people, or people they consider beneath them, never fails to turn my stomach.
I, on the other hand, was ignored by my father and raised primarily by Gloria. She taught me the importance of a strong work ethic and stronger moral code. She taught me to rely on myself more than on other people. She challenged me to be a better person, to remain humble, and down to earth.
I like to think that with Gloria's teachings and guidance, I turned out okay. That maybe, I'm a good person like she taught me to be. A good person like her.
A few moments later, the doorway to the kitchen swings inward and Gloria comes out, pushing a cart before her. I pick up the glass of wine sitting near my plate and take a drink. Merlot. My favorite. Gloria puts down Caesar salads in front of us, giving me a smile before she pushes the cart back into the kitchen.
“I had Gloria make her famous lasagna,” my father said. “Which, if I'm not mistaken, is your favorite.”
I sit back in my seat and take another sip of wine, suddenly getting an ominous feeling. It's unusual that my father would instruct Gloria to make my favorite meal – he usually had her make what he liked, and we were simply expected to eat it. My favorite dish, my favorite wine – something was up. Something big.
“Wow,” I say. “You really pulled out the stops tonight, Dad.”
He gives me a toothy, awkward smile. “Nothing's too good for my baby girl.”
His baby girl? Yeah, something is definitely up and I'm getting the feeling, although I don't have any real reason for it, that I'm not going to like whatever it is he's going to spring on me. There's sparse conversation throughout the rest of dinner, which is more than a little strange. At the very least, I figured that the both of them would have started in on me about being a teacher again. That seemed to be their go-to when they feel the need to criticize and belittle something.
But, there is nothing except light, superficial conversation. And barely any at that. Instead, most of the dinner is filled with a tense, awkward silence. It hangs thick in the air around us. It's heavy and oppressive, floating over the table like some malevolent spirit.
Finally, Gloria brings coffee and dessert and I know that my father is about to drop whatever it is he's holding in. I take a sip of my coffee and pick at the piece of tiramisu on the plate in front of me, waiting.
“So, Holly,” he finally says. “I asked you here tonight for a reason.”
“I figured as much,” I say, setting my coffee cup down.
I look at Ian, who suddenly looks away and won't meet my eyes. My father takes a long drink from his cup of coffee and looks like he's pondering how to start the conversation.
“Just spit it out, Dad,” I say.
He clears his throat and looks at me, a nervous, uncertain expression upon his face. “Frankly, Holly, the company hasn't been doing so well,” he says. “A year back or so, we were in real dire straits.”
This is news to me. Though, it's not entirely surprising, since my father never talks business with me. Still, I can see the pain on his face, making the admission. I know he's worked so hard to build that company from the ground up. He put his blood, sweat, and tears into making it into the successful business it is today. Knowing that he almost lost it – and having to admit it to me – must be a bitter pill for him to swallow. Though, I don't know what I have to do with any of this or what he could possibly want from me.
“I didn't know that,” is all I can think to say.
He nods. “Yeah, it was rough there for a bit and I didn't know if we were going to be able to keep the company afloat.”
Ian finally looks over at me and his expression seems to be expectant. As if I can somehow do something to fix the problems our father is having with the company. And maybe I could have, if he'd included me and taught me the business. But, he didn't, so I have no idea what it takes to keep a business – his business – running.
“I don't mean to be insensitive,” I say, “but, what does this have to do with me? You've always been very clear that Ian will take over the company after you retire.”
He lets out a long breath and runs a hand through his hair. I can tell he's struggling to put it into words – not struggling with the fact that Ian is the heir to his empire and not me, mind you. It's a little fact that my father refuses to acknowledge, but one that still burns my ass.
But, now is not the time to delve into that. It doesn't matter. I'm happy with my chosen career path. Probably a lot happier than I would be if I were taking over his empire.
“Look, I'm going to be honest with you,” he says. “When things weren't going so well, I really thought I was going to have to shut the doors on my business. But then, a man stepped forward and offered to invest in the company and give me the capital I needed to keep it running.”
Hearing those words come out of his mouth – not to mention the tone he spoke them in – sends shivers down my spine. I have a feeling that things are a lot worse than I'd even imagined, and that he's in deep with some mafia guy or something. Which, of course, sends a bolt of fear shooting through me.
“Who is this man?” I ask slowly.
“That's not important,” he says quickly.
“It is to me,” I say. “Who is he?”
“Did you not hear what father said,” Ian snaps. “It's not important. It's none of your business.”
I glare at my brother, who's frowning right back at me. I just shake my head and turn my attention back to my father. His face is drawn and pale, and I find myself feeling sorry for him. He's always been vigorous and healthy, but tonight, he just seems old. Tired.
“I owe this man a lot of money still,” my father says. “And even though the company is back on its feet, it's not generating enough yet to pay him back in full.”
“How much do you owe him?”
A wry smile touches the corners of his mouth. “More than I have.”
I let out a long breath. “What is it you need from me, Dad?”
“This man, he has a son,” he says. “A strong, handsome young man, about your age –”
A laugh bubbles up out of my throat. “You want me to date his son?”
He shakes his head and lowers his eyes again, refusing to meet my gaze. “No, not exactly.”
“Then what, Dad?” I ask. “You're not actually asking me to sleep with him, are you? Because –”
“Marry him,” my father says, cutting me off. “I need you to marry his son.”
I feel my eyes stretch wide open as my jaw nearly hits the top of the table. I know that I can't have heard him right. This must be a mistake. Or a bad joke. Something.
“Are you serious?” I ask. “You're asking me to marry this guy, sight unseen, to pay off some debt you owe to a mysterious, unknown stranger?”
“Why not? It's not like you have a lot other marital prospects,” Ian says.
“Fuck you, Ian,” I snap.
“I know what I'm asking of you –”
I shake my head. “No, you really don't know what you're asking of me.”
He lets out a long breath. “Fine. Fair enough,” he says. “But, I'm just asking you to take one for the team, Holly. We're in deep –”
“No, you're in deep shit,” I say. “I had nothing to do with this. And I shouldn't have to give up my life to fix your mistake.”
A shadow crosses over my father's face and his expression hardens. His jaw clenches and his eyes narrow as he looks at me.