Page 1 of Hitched

Chapter 1

Caleb

You want me to what?” I practically shout at da, and as I turn, I immediately regret taking that tone with him. His eyes are dark, his mouth set, his expression stone cold, like he’s about to strike me. It wouldn’t be a first. Even as I stand here, thirty-two years old, fully grown, I’m as tall as him but I’m nearly twice his girth, and I’m still scared shitless of the man. “Da, are you crazy? You want me to marry this girl? Why, I’ve never even met her, and what I do know of her, Laney McAdams is the biggest bitch on the planet! Did you not read about what she did to President Trump?”

“I don’t really care what she did or to whom, Caleb. And I don’t care if you know her or not. That is your task, son, and I’ve never given you a task that I didn’t believe you could accomplish.”

Da, he’s all about backhanded compliments. “But this is insane, da. Why would I want to marry? Least of all her?”

His gaze sears into mine. “You know exactly why, Caleb. The McAdams family is the only clan that rivals ours, and if we want to have a stake in that, this is the only way to do it.” He flails his hand in the air. “Rupert McAdams is not a man to fuck with, Caleb. The only way to get under his radar is to soften the bastard up, and his only daughter Laney is the ticket.” He pulls up a photo of Laney and Rupert, from an article in his phone. “Look here. See that look in his eyes? That’s love, son.”

An expression I have yet to see on da’s face. Even with mama he doesn’t look like that. But then, Fiona Harris is just about as relentless. In fact, that is the glue that holds their thirty-five-year marriage together. That, and money. Billions and billions of dollars of it. The truth is, that’s how mama and da got together. Papa set them up before he died. He wanted the family business to be in good hands. Since then, Harris Investments has soared, acquiring other companies, further building the Harris empire.

“Love or not, don’t you think it’s going to be a little transparent? Me going after Laney? The son of one of the richest men in Scotland, trying to court the daughter of Rupert McAdams, another one of the richest men in Scotland?”

“Caleb, don't patronize me. I did not raise a fool.”

“But da, why can't you set up Murdock, he's the one who's looking to take a wife.”

“And that's precisely why I am not getting him mixed up in this. He's just looking to get his dick wet on a regular basis and I need someone who is going to think with his head.”

“So, you're suggesting that I propose marriage to Laney, and that's going to be the key into the McAdams empire, is it?”

Da lifts a hand in frustration. “I don't care how you do it, Caleb. But I know that you are the best damn Harris kid to do it. I've seen those silly magazines with your face plastered all over them, pegging you as America's best eligible bachelor.

“So, I’m like a blue chip, am I?” I comment, not trying to hide the snark in my voice. Once again, I immediately regret taking that tone, as his eyes turn into daggers immediately.

“You were born into this family with all the same privileges as the rest, Caleb. We have all had to make sacrifices for this family, and you, son, are no different. So, do not think yourself to be more special than the others. I brought you into this family, and I can take you out, just as easily.” Spittle flies out of da’s mouth as he speaks. I know better than to press on.

I see the company jet from the window, da comes over and nods to the pilot, indicating that he can start the engine, taking me back to America, away from Scotland, my homeland, again. This is da’s way of telling me that the conversation is over. He leaves the room without a goodbye, without asking about the other project that I'm working on for him, that seems to be working itself out perfectly. I look at my phone and see the numerous messages from my various spies holding down the fort in North Carolina, while I'm briefly here in Scotland, for an emergency meeting with da.

The Ford brothers have recently signed with us, and in an attempt to protect my investment, as is the normal practice, my spies have been watching them. Like my family, those boys have had their own share of trouble. And I knew that unless I took some sort of action, that my newest investment would be sullied.

I look down at the helicopter, watching the blades rotate, readying to take me to the airport, where I can ride our private jet back to America. By the messages left from my spies, it seems that a meeting with Beckett Ford is in order, so my departure from Scotland could not have come at a better time.

On the journey back to America, I research Laney McAdams further, noting her veiled insult to former President Trump. But after researching the various billionaire moguls that she has rubbed elbows with, it appears more and more obvious that perhaps all of her moves are just as strategically placed as mine. And I start to wonder if perhaps I have met my match.

Laney McAdams, on the surface, does not appear to be a soft woman. As I dig deeper, I read that her father seems to be a carbon copy of my own father. This will not be something taken lightly. This is not a simple negotiation, no, this is a matter of the heart. And then the more I think about it, I wonder…is it? Perhaps her father has a similar plan in mind, and if I can convince Laney that we should be in cahoots, that could be the answer.

But I'll have to test that theory very carefully.

When I arrive back on American soil, I’ve now made a new request of one of my spies, and it seems that he has pulled through for me. Shortly thereafter, I find myself at a local bar, and as I sit on a barstool, I look across the way and see none other than Laney McAdams herself. She’s with a bunch of women who I think I recognize. Another is a billionaire, but they don’t look to be discussing business. Then again, one would be surprised how many business deals go down inside grubby establishments such as this.

Eyes scanning the band of women, I realize that this visit isn’t at all for business, and I credit my spy for seeking her out here, outside of her natural habitat. The bartender is picking up on me watching her, and I quickly come up with a plan that doesn’t make it seem like I’m checking her out. “That’s Laney McAdams.” I thumb her way. “Billionaire. Tried to make Trump look like a chump?”

He smiles as he dries the inside of a beer stein with a plaid towel. “That who it is? Some guy tried to hit on her and got shot down real quick. You ought to watch your back with her.”

“I had no intention of doing anything like that, dude.”

“Sure.” He nods, unconvinced.

I ignore him, as I look over at her again, but she’d sooner notice if a bomb went off in this place. It looks like some bachelorette party, but then I see the guest of honor wearing a black sash around her body, and I realize that it’s exactly the opposite. It’s a reverse bachelorette party: a divorce party. I thumb over to her again, not caring if the bartender is still getting the wrong impression. “There’s something you don’t see every day.”

“Maybe you don’t.” He states, matter-of-factly. “I see them all the damn time.” He scoffs. “More than goddamn bachelorette parties.”

I’m shocked. “Really.”

He nods. “I think that chick is Brandy Elfman. Big time in the NYSE. Not sure what she’s doing out here.”

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