Page 13 of Wreck Me

‘I’ll draft a statement issuing a public apology for any offence caused. It’ll be released this afternoon.’ My jaw ticks. ‘I made a mistake. For which I am deeply sorry, and I can assure you, it won’t happen again.’

‘How can we be certain?’ Julian’s thick, white eyebrows pull together in a frown. ‘The reputation of this company is a very serious matter. The investors are jittery.’

I pause for a beat, trying to articulate an answer that will provide the reassurance the Board requires.

‘You can be certain because James has decided it’s time to settle down.’ My father’s eyes narrow in a warning look as my mouth falls open. ‘Before the year is out, he will take a wife. Someone from a suitable background. Someone who also believes in the morals and values of the Beckett businesses. The public will get behind a wedding. Everyone loves a happy ever after. It will calm him down and offer the company the stability it needs to thrive under his leadership.’

He cannot be fucking serious. My eyes bulge and my throat tightens.

I’m not sure I even believe in marriage.

A highly inappropriate image of Scarlett in a virginal white wedding dress bursts into my brain.

Where the fuck did that come from?

My father continues, oblivious or indifferent to my shock. ‘If James struggles to find a suitable match, I will arrange one for him. Many successful marriages are founded this way. There’s no shame in it.’

A tightness twists my chest. It’s a battle to beat my frown into submission.

The room falls silent as the members of the board exchange curious glances.

Finally the chairman nods. ‘Very well. And perhaps if Mr Beckett can provide an heir for this company, it may prevent him from running its reputation into the ground entirely. We’ll reconvene next month for an update.’ Julian pushes his chair back, signalling this meeting is over.

Does he mean on the acquisition or my relationship status?

I shake hands with each member as they file out of the room, until there’s only me and my father left.

‘What the fuck was that?’ I rake my fingers through my hair as I pace the plush carpet.

‘Don’t take that tone with me, son.’ Dad buttons up his immaculacy tailored suit jacket. ‘It was a necessary evil. Eight members personally requested your removal from the company. It was the only way.’

‘You want me to get married?’ I slow to a stop, perch on the table and sigh. ‘Seriously?’

‘I’ve never been more serious in my life.’ My father folds his arms across his chest. ‘I’ve emailed Chantel a list of suitable possibilities. Women from appropriate backgrounds. She’s arranging dates for you as we speak.’

‘Dates? I don’t date. I don’t have time to date.’ My voice cracks.

‘No, that’s right.’ My father angles his head, his tone dripping with sarcasm. ‘But you do have time to swan off with three Beckett employees and fuck them in plain sight.’

I close my eyes and count to five before reopening them. ‘I didn't realise they were employees.’

‘Whatever. Your poor mother thought the days where she’d have to cop an eyeful of your cock were well and truly behind her,’ he scoffs. ‘If you want to keep your position as CEO of this company, you’ll take this on the chin. You’re going to have to settle down at some point. You’re not getting any younger.’ His voice softens slightly. ‘Besides, your mother and I want more grandkids while we’re still young enough to enjoy them.’

‘But Dad, I’m not even dating. How do you expect me to lock down a suitable wife in a year?’ It’s madness. Total fucking madness.

‘I told you, Chantel is making arrangements as we speak.’His eyes, the same shade as mine, flash with a brief twinkle. ‘You never know. You might even have fun.’

Doubtful.

Unless one of my dates is a high-class virgin pole dancer.

Fuck’s sake.

Chapter Eight

SCARLETT

Today’s lecture on securing a work placement is particularly dull, but Professor Buckley has one of those monotone voices which makes it easy to zone out on. Instead of paying attention, I’m replaying my encounter with James Beckett in my head for the millionth time. He hasn’t been back to the club in two weeks, but that hasn’t stopped me obsessing about our brief conversation, day and night.

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