Scot Appeal

by Melissa Blue

  She was selfish to want the lie the silence gave her. The truth would shatter the illusion that he was hers for the time they had left.

  “Ivy, are you still there?”

  She tried to swallow down the lump in her throat. “Yeah. I should go. See you on Sunday?”

  “Aye.”

  Ivy forced herself to hang up first. Another few deep breaths and she managed to grab her bag and get out of the car. Her sister took her time answering the door. The moment it was swung open, Ivy's stomach dropped. Her sister's bone straight hair was bunched into a lopsided ponytail, tightening the corners of her almond-shaped eyes. There was also a dark flush to her dark brown skin.

  “Sister!” Adeline threw out of her arms and bum-rushed her with a hug.

  “You're drunk,” Ivy stated the obvious.

  “I'vehadaloooooongday.”

  “What?” She pushed her sister back as the scent of lime and tequila took up any fresh air. “Try those words again.”

  “Followme.”

  Ivy tossed her bag by the closet next to the door and followed her sister into the kitchen. The makings of margaritas covered the counter. Worse, there was only half a bottle of tequila on the counter. The big kind. This night was going to end in tears and puke it seemed.

  She guided her sister into a kitchen chair. “I'll make my own drink,” she said. “You...try not to pass out while you tell me what happened.”

  Her sister took down the bun, scratched her scalp and then did her best to focus. “The takeover happened. Much sooner than any of us expected. The new guy came in looking like the devil in a three piece suit. A handsome devil. Really handsome.”

  At the description, Ivy picked up the bottle of tequila and drank it straight from the bottle. “Describe him, Addy.”

  “The devil?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ginger, which should have been the first sign. Blue eyes. He was...I don't know. He just looked around like he was sizing everyone up, could see right through them. It was spooky.”

  Ivy took another long pull. “What was his name?”

  “Marcus Baird. He ran Scotland International with an iron fist. I'd heard he left, but who the hell leaves New York to come to California?”

  A man who wanted to be near family. A family he wouldn't see because work would get in the way. It came first above all else. How many times had he left her cold when his phone had gone off? Every time. She'd told herself it didn't matter. They weren't a real couple. His decisions wouldn't affect her. Until now. She knew the punchline to her sister's story. Her heart couldn't take the full tale.

  “He fired you?” Ivy asked.

  “He fired my manager and if there's no manager there's no reason to keep his personal assistant. I've worked there seven years and poof. I'm out because fiscally my boss isn't necessary anymore. I shouldn't be too mad, I got a severance. I know it's nothing personal, but fuck Marcus Baird that soulless ginger bastard.”

  “Did you talk to him?” Did Marcus know he'd fired her sister?

  “I talked to his minion. Some bald guy named Ted. He was actually pretty nice. He's got the cutest kids. Still, he's a bastard too because he had to have known I was getting the ax a week ago.”

  Adeline frowned at Ivy when she took another long swig of tequila. “Are you being sisterly and trying to catch up?”

  Ivy laughed. “The sisterly thing to do would be to tell you my neighbor is fucking heartless. You should get out of Bain Corp. while you could, but I didn't want to get in the middle of it. I didn't think he'd...” She leaned against the counter and closed her eyes as the truth sunk in. “He knew who you were and didn't say a damn thing. He probably knew weeks ago he would fire your manager.”

  Adeline made a humming noise. “I'm so confused.”

  “My neighbor is your new boss.”

  That seemed to sober her sister up. Adeline shot out of the chair, her eyes wide. “You're shitting me?”

  “I wish I was.”

  “Your first is so much better than mine. I should have waited.”

  Ivy wished she could laugh, but her chest felt so tight. “He could have told me.”

  Adeline closed the space between them and then put her head on Ivy's shoulder. “A lot of these deals—”

  “Stop,” Ivy said. “Don't defend him. We both know you wouldn't do it and you live in that world. How much harder is it going to be for you to get a job? A few weeks—He...” All the things they'd done flashed in her mind and her stomach churned. “A warning isn't asking for much. You're my sister. Not some third or fourth cousin I rarely talk to.”

  The phone conversation made so much sense now. He'd known he'd axed her sister. Hell, his minion had probably known of their connection when he came with the contracts. And Marcus? Ivy scoffed. He'd made sure she promised to come by to see him on Sunday. His official start date was Monday but he'd known he'd given all the—how would he put it? Non-essential personnel would get their walking papers on Friday.

  Marcus was everything he'd warned her about. She should have listened. She should feel lucky this was the level of betrayal and not something that would kneecap her.

  A frown blossomed over her sister's face. “You're really mad at him over this?”

  Mad was a huge understatement, but she held a smile for her sister. “Tonight I'm taking care of you.”

  “Don't let what he did get between you two. You've been...happy the past few weeks.”

  That brought her up short. She put down the bottle so she wouldn't drop it. “Happy?”

  “You've let your life get messy. You have a lover. He's fixing things around your house. He's pretending to be a handyman. He's really this cold-hearted CEO. He's hot. Really hot. Though I still kind of hate him right now. Job searching is a pain in my ass. But your life isn't apple pie. It's more like rhubarb.”

  Ivy's laugh sounded rough. “I thought I was supposed to be the idealistic one?”

  “I'm drunk. I turn Polly-fucking-anna.”

  Ivy pulled her sister into a hug. The liquor was burning its way into her blood, but still she needed the warmth to steady her. “I love you, Addy.”

  “You say that now, but in the morning I'm probably going to puke everywhere.”

  Likely. “I'll be at work by then.” She pulled away. “Let's watch some TV.”

  Her sister frowned at her. “I know you. You're pissed.”

  “I swear, I'm fine,” she lied, with a smile. Her sister was drunk enough to buy it.

  Ivy planned to keep her promise. She would see Marcus on Sunday. Until then she had all the time in the world to think about the fact he'd fired her sister, had known that choice would upset her and hadn't uttered a word about it. As though how she felt didn't matter. Like she didn't matter.

  By the time Ivy pulled up into her driveway she wasn't hurt or annoyed anymore. Twenty-four hours had only allowed her to go over every detail of their relationship. Little things she'd overlooked stacked up in her mind like evidence. The conclusion: she and Marcus didn't really have a relationship and she had no reason to be hurt. She'd actually told him to keep any information about Bain Corp and his moves to himself.

  What right did she have to be annoyed? To feel even an inkling of betrayal? So confront him, why? Keep her promise, why? They owed each other nothing. They'd been nothing more than sex and at least on her part, hopeful stirrings they could be more.

  Hopeful stirrings hadn't made them real.

  And hadn't he pretty much told her this was their last day? Their affair was over because work would be more important. So if she saw him, fine. If not, fine. She stepped out of her car, her head held high and stalked into her house to do—whatever would keep her busy.

  Ivy managed to keep up that devil-may-care bravado until she checked out her peephole an hour later after someone had leaned on her doorbell for a minute straight.

  No surprise who it was. Despite her anger, her body reacted like a dog who hadn't seen his owner in weeks. Everything jum
bled and jumped and raced. She had to press her head to the cool wood just to keep upright. When she felt a semblance of control i.e. she wouldn't throw herself into his arms the moment she opened the door, Ivy let him in.

  “Hey,” she said, sounding calm.

  But this was Marcus. He narrowed his eyes, likely seeing straight through her facade. She put her back to him and headed for the kitchen. Her throat had dried up like a desert. She felt more than heard him follow close behind. Her hands shook over the glass and pitcher, but she managed to pour herself some lemonade.

  Courage had seemed to flee the moment he'd stepped into her home. Still she faced him, doing her best to keep her expression free of any emotion. It wasn't enough, not for Marcus. All of her mental pronouncements faded into the background seeing the hollowness in his gaze.

  He slumped his shoulders and glanced away. “They've already fired your sister, I can see.”

  “They. Sounds so impersonal, as though you had nothing to do with the decision. We both know that's not true.” She didn't drink from the glass. It just gave her something to do with her hands. “I want the truth, Marcus.”

  He seemed to reach his full height at those words, bracing himself. She almost stopped, but she couldn't. Her heart was on the line.

  She pushed, “Maybe as a CEO you do see the world as bottom lines and profits. I have no doubt you're good at what you do. But did you fire my sister to make the point that you're heartless and I shouldn't love you?”

  “What?” his voice barely rose over a whisper. He staggered back a step, his brows knitting.

  Ivy stopped, realizing she'd dropped love into that sentence, but was it a lie? From the way his blue eyes had darkened, he hadn't expected that word either.

  She swallowed and pushed on. “My sister talks about what private equity firms do all the time. They do the same thing. Every single time. They assure the masses things are going to be fine. A few weeks go by and then if it's needed there are massive layoffs, restructuring. You are good at what you do. Your name was just announced. All the people who were going to jump ship...that hasn't even started yet. You fired her to make a point to me.”

  That sickening thought had been a whisper in the back of her mind, but he broke their eye contact, shifted and she knew it was true. “So now I'm supposed to think just how far will he go to make sure I don't love him? But my heart just hurts. How can I...” Would not saying the word make it any less true? She'd felt that emotion, for weeks now. “How can I love a man who believes he shouldn't be loved? What will be next when you go to prove I'm wrong and you're right? Don't let Tavin do this to you.”

  “Don't,” he finally said, his voice like a crack of lightning. Anger bristled from his every limb. “Don't talk about him. He's...” His jaw worked and then he said, no less calm, “I'm...”

  No surprise he allowed himself to have more of a reaction over the mention of his father than her feelings toward him. And still his reaction hurt. “That disgust you feel whenever you think about him, whenever you talk about him is why you'll never be your father. I don't know what he did—”

  His voice didn't rise above a whisper. “He fucked the help the day we buried my mum.”

  Her breath hitched and she didn't know how to react to that. “Oh, God.”

  “Aye.” He nodded. “That's the blood that runs through my veins. Maybe if it stopped there I could get past it, but the first moment I could, I shook my brothers. For work. I ditched my blood for work. Not even money, just wanted to get away. The farther from Scotland the better.” Though his tone was flippant, he pulled a hand through his hair. “I don't have what you need. I never will. Cut your losses. Firing your sister because I can, because I knew it could probably hurt you...” He wiped his mouth like the taste of the truth left a bitter tang. “Hate me. God, Ivy, just hate me now before I really hurt you.”

  She'd known the why of his actions. Still her heart ached at the confirmation. Ivy may not have lived wild or wide until she'd met him, but how could she regret any moment spent with him? Yes. God, yes. She wanted to hate him for giving her a taste of life—even dug around for that red, pulsating emotion as he stood there, pleading for her to. Hating him would be easy, so much easier to deal with. She could skip over the pain and go straight to mad that could burn through her veins. He'd proved without a shadow of a doubt, he was far from perfect.

  But that didn't change how she felt about him.

  “No,” she whispered. “I won't.”

  He paled then anger flashed through his gaze. Marcus stomped toward her, his muscles coiled. “Are you that desperate for some dick? That lonely for any man?”

  She reared back a step. The words kept cutting on their way down, just like he'd intended. There was accepting his flaws and taking abuse.

  “Leave,” the word whooshed out. She could barely breathe from the verbal hit. “Go wallow in your own imagined misery, because you had a shitty father. Believe that you will never amount to anything because you were so hurt by your mother's death you couldn't stand to be on the same continent as her grave. You couldn't stomach to look at your brothers because they reminded you of it all. Go. It's what you want.” She thought to swallow down the truth but what would be the point? They both knew it, had known it for weeks. “I love you but I'm not going to let you take your anger out on me because I do.”

  The hard lines edged around his mouth fell away. “Ivy.” He reached for her.

  She spread her hands out sharp and fast. Her palms landed with a solid thud on his chest. “Leave.”

  Ivy waited until she heard her door slam shut to cry. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction of hearing it, seeing just how much he'd hurt her.

  11

  Marcus stepped out onto the porch just shy of running late. The driver stood outside the door waiting for him, but Ivy's laugh carried across the yard. He hadn't seen her in a week, eons from the way his bones ached and how deep the guilt gnawed at his insides.

  Apparently the Virgin Mary didn't think that was more than enough penance. A man was helping her pack flowers into a van. A tall, dark-haired bastard who was making her smile. Worse, Marcus knew the man in the suit trying to charm his—neighbor.

  “Grant!” He yelled, not hiding the anger in his tone.

  Ivy's gaze flicked to him and then to Grant. She said something that made Grant laugh, hard and then went to put the box into the van. Still, his arsehole of a friend waited until Ivy finished. He took her hand, brushing a kiss along her knuckles.

  Marcus faced the driver. A young man who looked like he had a solid future ahead of him. Probably picking up great tips to pay for college. It would be wrong to ask him to run Grant over. Marcus checked his wallet to see how much cash he had. Enough to talk the boy into “accidentally” rolling over Grant's feet at minimum.

  The roar of the engine filled the quiet street. She was leaving without so much as looking at him with longing. Penance. Aye, he deserved worse. He watched the van until it disappeared, ignoring his friend who finally stopped being a traitor.

  “You know you fucked that up, right?” Grant said.

  He clenched and unclenched his hands. “You flew all the way from Glasgow to tell me that?”

  “You left a job that paid you an obscene amount of money. In your down time you orchestrated a black-hearted chess move to take Bain Corp. CEO's job. You did it and managed to boot half the managing partners before you stood at the helm. Yet, when I talked to you three days ago, you sounded like you were about to jump off a bridge to end it all. Aye, I flew all the way from Scotland to meet the reason why.”

  “Nosy fucker.” Since he didn't plan to talk about any of it, he marched the rest of the way to the car.

  Grant settled in beside him once inside. Marcus glared at the man. “It's not take a friend to work day.”

  “I'm sure there's a coffee place we can go for a few hours.”

  His friend's lips had touched Ivy's skin. Marcus knew that kind of heaven. It would be wrong,
and probably involve jail time, if he ripped Grant's face off with his bare hands. “I've three meetings this morning.”

  “I talked to your secretary. She's cleared you until this afternoon. Family emergency. I believe your uncle had another heart attack scare.”

  “I need to fire Lydia. She's willful.” Though he'd liked her well enough for the past week. She was prompt and seemed to know what he wanted before he could think it. Her above and beyond attitude could have just been she didn't want to get fired. Then again if she listened to this daft bastard who had touched Ivy...

  “Fuck off, I'm going to work.”

  “I touched your lass...how much do you want to kill me right now?”

  Marcus could only bite out, “Work.”

  Grant's grin was quick. “Don't make me call in reinforcements. I have your brothers and cousins on my speed dial. And I've been to Douglass's pub a time or two. The old bugger is fond of me.”

  “Call the girls if need be.”

  His cousins had already taken their pound of flesh. He'd needed his home office ready pronto. As they helped him, they'd start their routine of “Aye, I know that expression.” The “I'm a sorry bastard one?” Either Ian or Tristan would start in so it wasn't a surprise he felt downright homicidal after a week of it.

  “What happened?” Grant asked.

  Marcus pulled out his phone to text Lydia. She replied back that the conference calls had already been rescheduled to one in the afternoon. And that she hoped his uncle made it through surgery.

  Impressed, he had to ask, “What lie did you tell her?”

  “Open heart surgery is serious business even if it's just a stint.”