“You can’t do this, it’s not right!” My voice cracks as I yell, but I can’t stop it. I can feel my blood as it starts to boil, and my heart start to race in my chest. “I’ve given everything to this place.” Grinding my teeth down, small bits of bone cover my tongue like fine sandpaper. “I deserve it.”
Spitting on the floor, I wipe my mouth and try to make the sour taste disappear. This isn’t fair, he shouldn’t be able to do it, but he is. And I believe him.
My father doesn’t make idle threats. My father is a man who does exactly what he sets out to do.
“You deserve nothing!” Balling his fists at his sides, his knuckles are suddenly bright white and the red veins in his eyes are overflowing like an engorged river after heavy rain. “You’ll take what I give you!”
Whipping his body around, he throws his arm over his head and lets out a heavy grunt. Storming out of the room, his feet come down hard, rippling through the room.
My jaw is hanging wide open, and I can’t think straight. I’m more stunned than anything.
This is my distillery. I’ve earned every inch of this place. And now he’s denying me of something I worked for, all because he wants me to get married and have kids.
It’s the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard.
Where the hell am I going to find a woman who will marry me basically overnight?
Where the hell am I going to find someone who’s willing to let me woo them and marry them in the next few weeks?
Time is not my friend.
“Everything all right?” Gina asks, giving me a concerned look as she hands the customer his bag.
Giving her a single nod, I lean on the bar and fold my hands together, dropping my head into my chest. “Give the man an extra bottle for his troubles. He shouldn’t have seen that; my father should know better.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
I don’t need her to comfort me, even though I’m sure she’d be more than happy to help me forget the whole damn thing. Taking a step to the side, I stand up straight and run my palms down the front of my suit. “Don’t worry about it, just focus on the customer.” Touching my chest, I hold out an apologetic hand. “So sorry for that, Sir. Enjoy the complimentary bottle.”
Throwing open the door on the side of the bar, I head down the hall to my office.
Where the hell can I find a woman who will marry me and agree to have a kid in the next few months?
Slamming the door shut to my office, I pace in a circle, raking my fingers through my hair. I know there’s not a chance in hell I’ll ever be able to do what he’s asking me to do. It’s fucking absurd and crossing the line of what a parent can demand from a child.
I’m not a fucking kid anymore he can just order around. Sometimes it’s like he forgets that, barking orders and unreasonable demands like he owns the ground I walk on.
And then it hits me, a thought that seems to take shape as I speak. “I just need a girl,” I say out loud. “Someone who will be willing to go along with this. . .”
I don’t need a real wife, I need a fake one. One my father will hate, one he’ll demand I leave. And I’ll be able to use that to get what I want, to get what’s rightfully mine.
The idea seems to roll into my brain like lava, slow and thick, and setting me on fire. All I need is a good actress, not a real woman.
I need a girl who will be willing to go along with the idea. A girl who comes from nothing, someone my father won’t want to be seen with.
My eyes shift to the folder on my desk, the bright red folder, full of names that are looking for their shot to come intern at the distillery.
A little smirk slips easily over my lips as I walk to my desk and pick up the folder. Peeling back the cover, I scan the list of names, feeling the weight instantly lift off my shoulders.
There has to be someone in this list that’s exactly what I’m looking for, and I’m not going to settle until I find her.
I have to fight fire with fire. If my father wants to try and control my life, right down to the very detail of when my children should be born, then I can play the same game.
He overstepped his boundaries, trying to twist my arm into doing something I’m not ready for. Something I don’t even want at all.
My father has no right to plan or give me a deadline for my future. This is my life, it’s for me to decide.