by Hunter Rose
Kinsey smiles and turns, running out the door and past Roman with a giggle. I listen to the sound of her footsteps thumping hard on the floor – not quite the pitter-patter of little feet – receding. When she’s gone, Roman steps into the room and closes the door behind him, then walks over and sits down on the edge of the bed next to me. He takes my hand and squeezes it gently, the expression on his face sending a dose of ice water through my veins.
“What is it?” I ask.
He lets out a long breath. “My father is home,” he says. “And he’s in rare form already.”
“Wonderful,” I sigh.
“Yeah, my thoughts exactly,” he responds. “I figured you’d want a heads up. But don’t worry, I’m going to be there with you. I won’t let him get too out of hand.”
“I appreciate that.”
He pulls me to him and plants a soft kiss on the top of my head that makes me smile. But then he looks at me and frowns.
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
He turns to face me and takes my face in his hands, looking closely into my eyes.
“You’ve been crying,” he observes. “What’s wrong? Spill it.”
I sigh and shake my head. I really don’t want to get anybody into trouble. I’d intended to say nothing at all, but as Roman’s eyes bore into mine, I feel like I’m being pulled along on a current I can’t get myself out of. Before I even know what’s happening, I’m telling Roman everything that happened earlier today. I tell him every word of what those two women said. And when I’m done, Roman’s face darkens and his jaw clenches. He looks like he’s on the verge of an explosion.
“Come on,” he growls.
“Roman, please don’t –”
He takes my hand and hauls me to my feet, dragging me along with him. I’m pleading with him to not do anything rash, but he’s not listening to me. The anger etched into his face is as plain as day. It worries me. Not that I actually think he’d do anything to hurt them. But I don’t want him reading them the riot act either. I just don’t want him to make a scene. It’s not the impression I want to make on his family.
But it doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice. He drags me into a small sitting room where his mother is playing with Kinsey. They’re laughing together, their smiles wide.
“Mom, we have a problem,” he starts.
“We really don’t –” I begin to argue, but he cuts me off.
“What’s the problem, sweetheart?” Marjory asks.
Roman looks pointedly at Kinsey and then back to his mother. “Can you maybe have Merrick look after Kinsey for a minute and bring Tina and Emily in here?”
Marjory frowns but then nods a moment later. “Of course.”
When his mother takes Kinsey out of the room, I turn to him. “Please, Roman, let’s not do this,” I say. “I don’t want to cause any problems –”
“You didn’t cause the problem,” he growls. “And I’m not about to let a couple of petty assholes speak about you that way.”
“I appreciate you wanting to protect me –”
“You are mine, Scarlet,” he snarls. “And I will protect you.”
To say my feelings right now are complicated is an understatement. On the one hand, I’m not some weak woman he needs to be defended over the smallest slight. On the other, the fact that he feels the need to – the fact that he says I’m his – makes me feel – happy. To know that he feels this deeply for me makes my heart fill to the point of bursting.
As much as I appreciate him defending me like this, I don’t necessarily want it any more than I wanted him to beat that man who’d been hitting on me in that bar back in Syria. I open my mouth to argue once more, but I’m out of time. Marjory marches into the room with the two women trailing behind her, their heads down, their faces grim. They look for all the world like they’re being marched to the gallows. Maybe they are in a way.
“Please, sit,” Roman orders.
The two women take a seat beside each other on the couch, both their heads still down, eyes on the floor. Neither of them speak. Marjory takes a seat in the large chair that sits perpendicular to the couch, and I let Roman guide me to the chair beside hers. I sit down and fold my hands in my lap, staring at them intently.
I look up at Roman one last time, pleading with my eyes that he just let this go. But his jaw is set, his eyes are narrowed, his expression is dark, and my heart sinks knowing he’s not going to do any such thing.
I hate them for what they said, but I don’t want to be the reason they’re fired.
30
Roman
“Okay we’re all here now,” my mother starts. “What is this all about, sweetheart?”
I glare at the two women on the couch, my blood boiling just below the surface of my skin. Who do these two think they are to sit in judgment of Scarlet or our daughter?
“I would like to see what Tina and Emily have to say for themselves,” I reply.
My mother is looking at me with curiosity on her face, but then she turns to the two women, not understanding, but apparently willing to let me play this out. The pair of women look up at me briefly, then lower their eyes to the floor again. The tension in the room is thick enough that you can cut it with a knife.
“Well?” I demand. “Speak.”
It’s Tina who speaks first. “I – we – apologize, sir,” she mutters.
The anger in me boils over before I can stop it. “It’s not me you need to be apologizing to!” I roar. “Are you stupid, or do you just have no shame?”
“Roman,” my mother admonishes me.
I turn to her, the blood pounding in my ears. I know I must sound like a raving lunatic to her. She has no idea what I’m going on about. So I fill her in on the conversation Scarlet overheard. With every word I speak, the two women on the couch sink lower and lower, both of them looking like they want to crawl into a hole and pull the dirt in over them.
Scarlet is sitting on the chair, her gaze fixed on her hands, her cheeks flushed. She looks miserable and like she wants to be anywhere but here right now. I feel bad for putting her in this position, but I’m not going to let anybody talk to or about her in that manner.
When I finish relaying the conversation to my mother, she looks upset – although she does a much better job of containing it than I do. That’s one way I take more after my father than my mother – he and I are both far more volatile than she is. I try to be more like my mother, but when my blood is up, I can never seem to manage my temper as well as she does.
“Tina, Emily?” she starts. “Please look at me.”
The two women raise their heads, but neither is looking at my mother directly. They’re both looking at a point over her head – giving the impression they’re looking at her without actually looking at her. I have no doubt my mother notices it, but she chooses to ignore it. She’s a woman who usually picks her battles wisely.
“Is this true, ladies?” she asks. “Did you really say all of that about Scarlet and my granddaughter?”
Tina and Emily cut a glance at each other, but they choose to remain silent, looking back down at their hands.
“This is very disappointing,” my mother continues. “Very disappointing, indeed. You have both been with me for a long time now. I’m as shocked as I am disappointed by your behavior.”
“W – We’re sorry, ma’am,” Emily stammers. “We didn’t intend for Miss Carrington to overhear us.”
“Obviously,” I snort.
My mother holds up her hand to silence me, and I accede to her wishes. Clasping my hands behind my back, I pace the room, marching myself back and forth in front of them, doing everything I can to keep my temper in my check.
“We were being childish and petty,” Emily continues. “And we’re sorry for that.”
“I think it’s more likely that what you’re sorry for is that you were overheard to begin with,” I snap.
Emily looks down at the flo
or again, and Tina remains utterly silent. I look to my mother who wears a troubled expression, a frown stretching her mouth downward. But when she looks up at me, I see the steely resolve in her eyes. She casts a glance at Scarlet, then back at her two employees.
“I hate that we’re at this point, ladies. I value the both of you,” she says, her voice cold. “But I cannot and will not tolerate that sort of petty behavior. I will not allow anybody to slander my family – which is exactly what Scarlet and Kinsey are.”
“Mrs. Wheeler, please,” Tina finally speaks up. “We know what –”
My mother holds up her hand, cutting her off. “I’ve heard enough, Tina. Frankly, I’m disgusted by your behavior.”
Although I’d much rather be the one to drop the hammer, I know this isn’t my house, and this isn’t my staff. I have no real standing here. If Tina and Emily are going to be fired – and I believe they should be – my mother is going to have to be the one to swing the axe.
“Can I say something?”
Scarlet’s voice is soft but firm. And when I turn to look at her, I see her chin lifted in that gesture of defiance I know so well, and a look of absolute steel in her eyes. Tina and Emily look down again, not even giving her the respect of looking her in the eye – something else that pisses me off. I open my mouth to demand they look at Scarlet but bite back my words at a meaningful look from my mother.
“Of course, dear,” she gestures to Scarlet.
“I think they said some hateful and hurtful things, but I believe it’s out of ignorance and not malice,” she says. “They don’t know me, and I think at the heart of their comments, as rude and condescending as they are, they’re simply worried for Roman – and your family.”
“Scarlet, you don’t have to defend them,” I growl. “They’re big girls and understand actions have consequences. They made their beds – let them lie in it.”
She shakes her head, and although she gives me a smile, I can see her digging in. She is a stubborn woman when she wants to be.
“My belief is that they’re simply worried that I’m looking to take advantage of your family,” Scarlet continues. “I think what they said is horrible, and it hurts me, but I can understand their concern for your family.”
My mom nods. “So what do you think I should do with them?”
“Nothing, I’d rather you not fire them,” she says. “Hopefully they can learn from this and think before they speak next time.”
My mother’s face remains grim, but I can tell that she’s pleased by Scarlet’s act of mercy. I know she values her staff and loves them like family – especially when they’ve been with her as long as Tina and Emily have. As much as I’d much prefer both of these petty assholes be broken off immediately, I can’t help but admire Scarlet’s heart and kindness. I’ve known she’s a good person since I first met her in Syria. This only goes to further prove it. She’s a hell of a lot better and kinder than I am, that’s for sure.
“You have a kind, good heart,” my mother says to Scarlet, then turns to Tina and Emily. “Which is a good thing for the both of you.”
The two women stumble all over themselves, speaking over one another in their rush to apologize to Scarlet. My mother stands up and both women, so used to following her lead, get to their feet automatically.
“You may go about your duties,” my mother tells them.
The two women are still apologizing as they hurry from the room. My mother turns to Scarlet and favors her with a smile.
“Thank you for that,” she says. “I hate what they said, but I love them both. They’re normally good people with good hearts.”
“I’m sure they are,” Scarlet replies. “And I don’t want to be the cause of any problems for your family.”
My mother gives her a tsk. “You are our family too, Scarlet,” she says. “And I meant it when I said I will not tolerate somebody slandering my family, regardless of who they are.”
“Thank you, Marjory. I really appreciate that.”
She favors Scarlet with another smile. “Now, I should probably go rescue Merrick,” she smiles. “That little girl has energy to burn, and he’s not as young as he used to be.”
I watch my mother head out of the room, and it’s only then I notice my father standing in the doorway. His face is stern and disapproving – as usual. His eyes shift from me to Scarlet and then back again. I let out a small sigh and feel my body tensing up as I prepare myself for this. He steps into the room, and Scarlet quickly gets to her feet. We stand side by side. The tension wafting off her is strong. It’s like standing next to a stove and feeling the heat radiating from it. And I don’t blame her for a second. She’s probably wise to be tense when my father walks into the room. Hell, I am.
“Dad,” I nod to him.
“Son,” he replies.
He stands before us, and I see him looking Scarlet up and down, the tension in the room crackling like electricity. I see his jaw clenching and unclenching. A disapproving light in his eyes. The silence stretches on, only adding to the air of strain around us.
“Orson Wheeler,” he finally says, extending his hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” she replies and shakes his hand. “Scarlet Sc –”
“Yes, I know who you are,” his voice is colder than the void of deep space. “I’d like to have a few moments alone with my son, if you don’t mind. I believe Marjory is in the kitchen with your daughter.”
Your daughter. As if I wouldn’t catch the obvious slight and the implication behind his words. I grit my teeth as Scarlet cuts her eyes to me, obviously feeling uncomfortable. Not that I can blame her – my father isn’t exactly rolling out the red carpet for her. Which is something I’ll address with him, since I’m apparently going to have a few minutes alone with him.
“Of course,” she murmurs and quickly leaves the room.
I stand before him, my jaw clenching and unclenching, my hands balled into fists at my side. Neither of us speak for a long moment, as if we’re both waiting for Scarlet to be well out of earshot before we do. It’s not until I no longer hear her footsteps echoing in the hallway, that I open my mouth and speak.
“Nice, Dad,” I growl. “Way to make her feel welcome.”
A grin tugs one corner of his mouth upward, and he walks over to the chair my mother had vacated when she left. He sits down and crosses one leg over the other, the picture of civility.
“She’s kind. Has a good heart,” he finally says. “In her place, I would have demanded the heads of those two maids.”
I remain standing, glaring at him from across the room. “Which I think says a lot about the both of you,” I retort.
A long moment of silence stretches out between us, the anger and tension palpable. More so than it usually is. I can just feel his disapproval and judgment from all the way over here.
“So, what’s wrong with Scarlet, Dad?” I snap. “What have you found to dislike about her in the fifteen seconds you spoke with her?”
He doesn’t reply for a long moment. He sits back in his seat, just looking at me with an imperious expression on his face. I roll my eyes and pace around the room, wanting to get out from under his scrutiny.
“I have to say; this is quite the love story. Met overseas all those years ago, only to reconnect in California again,” he intones. “And to top it all off, to learn you have a daughter. It defies the odds, don’t you think? I’m pretty sure there’s a book or a movie deal in here somewhere.”
The sarcasm in his voice couldn’t possibly be thicker. As is the implication.
“You know, it’s even more annoying today than it was the last time I saw you,” I tell him.
“It’s been so long between visits, I’m surprised you remember,” he prods. “But, what’s more annoying, son?”
“Your sarcasm, condescension, and passive-aggressive bullshit, Dad,” I snap. “And believe it or not, I’m actually not an absolute moron. I know a scam when I see one.”
He arches a
n eyebrow at me. “Do you? Are you certain?” he presses. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but the last I heard, she’s living in your house rent-free. Are you footing all of the bills too?”
“She has a job,” I snap. “She pays her own bills.”
“Yes, except for rent, apparently.”
I sigh and angrily run my hand over my face. And just like that, he has me back on the defensive. I don’t know what it is about this man or how he does it, but he has the ability to get under my skin like nobody else. There is nobody else on this planet who can piss me off the way he can. I mean, I know I can sometimes be an arrogant asshole. But my father is ten times worse than I can ever dream of being.
“What I choose to do with my life, and who I choose to let live in my place is my business,” I scowl at him. “It’s no business of yours.”
An amused smile flickers upon his lips as he looks at me. “Perhaps not,” he says. “But I might feel uncomfortable leaving my estate to you if I fear you’re going to be taken advantage of.”
I scoff. “Wow. Are you actually threatening to cut me out of your will for being with Scarlet? For being a father to my daughter?” I growl. “And here I thought you were big on the whole personal responsibility thing, Dad.”
“I’m not making threats. Just personal observations,” he says. “And I do believe in personal responsibility – when we’re sure the responsibility is yours.”
“I couldn’t be more certain that Kinsey is my daughter,” I tell him. “And FYI, I do make pretty good money on my own.”
That arrogant smirk touches his lips again as he stands and walks to the window. He clasps his hands behind his back, staring out at the rear grounds. I would continue to argue with him about his seeming determination to not like Scarlet, but I may as well be beating my head against the wall for all the good it will do. Scarlet could have won the Nobel Peace Prize, won a billion-dollar lotto jackpot, been canonized by the Catholic church, and cured cancer and he still would have found something about her to nitpick.
“The more I think about it, the more I think the maids were onto something,” he tries to sound reasonable. “Their execution was poor, obviously. But their idea wasn’t wrong.”