Accidentally Married, page 16
“Goddammit,” I growl.
I disconnect the call and immediately call back. Same result.
I slam my fist down on the desk, rattling everything sitting on top of it. This time, I wait for the beep, so I can leave a message.
“Holly, this is your father. Again,” I snarl. “I'm starting to get really pissed off. Call me back the instant you get this message, young lady. We have a lot to talk about.”
I hang up and think about calling back a third time but decide against it, dropping the phone back onto my desk instead. Still, I'm anxious, frustrated, and entirely pissed off. Snatching the phone back up off the desk, I key in yet another text message to my daughter.
You can't hide from me forever. Call me back ASAP, Holly. I'm not screwing around.
Knowing I'm entirely powerless to do anything but wait, I drop the phone again and run my hands through my hair. Still not satisfied, I pick up a manual from the desk and hurl it across the room, watching it smash into the wall and clatter to the floor.
A display of impotent rage, yeah, but a way to burn off some angry energy anyway.
I lean forward and bury my face in my hands, feeling my stomach churning. Every day that goes by – hell, every minute that goes by – that I haven't delivered on my promise to Trujillo is a moment closer to death I know that he's not a person to screw with. He’s the type of man who expects you to deliver on your promises. The memory of the man, Trujillo’s own nephew, that he had executed right in front of me, floats through my mind, further emphasizing that point.
Yeah, as if I needed the point to be underscored for me.
Not looking up, I hear the familiar creak of my office door as it swings opens. Probably my secretary Marcia coming to check on me after hearing the manual crash against the wall.
“I'm fine, Marcia,” I say. “Please, I'm not to be disturbed right now. No calls, no meetings, nothing.”
“Oh, I think you can make time for me.”
I snap my head up quickly and see Trujillo standing there with a smug look on his face. Marcia's standing behind him, her eyes wide, trembling. She looks absolutely terrified.
“I tried to stop him, Mr. Gallagher, he doesn't have an appointment, but he –”
I hold up my hand to stop her. “It's okay, Marcia,” I say. “Thank you. I’ll handle it from here.”
She closes the door behind her quickly, obviously happy to get away from the dangerous looking man standing before me. Hell, given the choice, I'd leave the office too. The last place I want to be is trapped in a room with this guy.
He unbuttons his coat, giving me a flash of the gun neatly tucked away in his shoulder holster. It's probably an intentional move, one designed to intimidate me. And if that's the case, it works wonders. I feel my bladder straining, the need to take a piss worsening by the second. I try to keep my face calm and neutral, however, and not show him that he's rattled me. Instead, I try to look casual by leaning back in my chair, and taking a long sip of my coffee.
“Mr. Trujillo,” I say. “Wasn't expecting you this morning.”
He shrugs and takes a seat in the chair across the desk from me. “I like to pop in sometimes,” he says. “I always find it better, find people more honest and forthcoming, when I don't give them time to prepare and rehearse their answers. Do you know what I mean, Michael?”
“Is there something I should be rehearsing for?”
He looks at me, a wry chuckle passing his lips. He leans back in his seat and opens his coat. A jolt of fear runs through me when I think he's reaching for his gun, but instead he pulls out a pack of cigarettes.
“There's no smoking in here,” I say.
He looks at me for a long moment, a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. He shakes the cigarette out and pops it into his mouth, flicking his Zippo lighter and firing up anyway. He takes a long drag and exhales a thick plume of smoke directly at me.
He sighs contentedly and looks at the cigarette in his hand. “You know, I used to smoke three packs a day,” he says. “Nasty habit, I know.”
As with everything else he does, I know this is theater. He has a larger point he's going to slowly and laboriously get to, so I sit back and wait for it to come. It's not like I can force him to get there any sooner.
“Never touched 'em in my life,” I say.
“Good for you, Michael,” he says. “Good for you. Bad habit to start.”
“I'm too old to start new habits anyway.”
He smirks at me again and takes another drag. “Nowadays,” he says, “I only smoke when I'm feeling a tremendous amount of stress or pressure.”
“That so?”
He nods and exhales another thick plume of smoke. It's going to take me days to air this place out. I sigh and take another drink of my coffee.
“And lately,” he says. “I've gotten back up to a pack and a half a day. That's not good, right?”
I shake my head. “Clearly.”
“Do you know why I'm smoking so much again, Michael?”
“I couldn't begin to guess.”
“It's because I've been left to wonder if you really are a man of your word.”
“What do you mean?”
He gives me a long, level look as he takes a drag of his cigarette and blows it out.
“What I mean is, you promised your daughter to my son,” he says. “And yet, here we are days later, and I've heard not one word from you. I thought at least, there would be a meeting between the two. A get-to-know-you session?”
“I'm working on that, Mr. Trujillo,” I say. “My daughter can be…willful at times.”
“You assured me that you had this under control and it wouldn't be a problem.”
I nod. “I do have it under control,” I say quickly. “And it's not going to be a problem.”
“I don't have to impress upon you, what happens when you don't live up to your word,” he says. “Do I, Michael?”
The image of his nephew’s head being blown off in front of me flashes through my mind and I feel an unpleasant churn of nausea in my gut. I shake my head no.
“No, Mr. Trujillo,” I say. “I have the picture in vivid detail in my mind already.”
“Good,” he says. “Because, I like you, Michael. And since we're going to be family, I'd hate to have you disappoint me.”
“I won't.”
“I want to believe you.”
“I won't, Mr. Trujillo,” I stammer, my heart thundering in my chest.
There's a long moment of silence, pregnant with anticipation and fear. Finally, Trujillo nods.
“Okay,” he says. “When are we putting Armando in a room with Holly? He's very anxious to meet her. I've told him nothing but good things about her.”
“Soon, Mr. Trujillo,” is all I can say. “Very soon. I promise you.”
He nods again and gets to his feet. Trujillo stands there for a long moment, staring down at me. I can't bring myself to look up at him in fear that he'll see the outright terror on my face. All I can do is look at him from the corner of my eye and try to look unimpressed and unintimidated. I think I'm failing miserably on both counts.
Trujillo drops his cigarette into my coffee cup and I listen to it go out with a hiss the instant it hits the liquid.
“Good,” he says. “The sooner the better.”
I nod. “I'll make it happen.”
“See that you do,” he says and turns toward the door.
I watch him open the door and then pause. He stands there with his back to me and fear ripples through me.
“Don't disappoint me, Michael,” he says without turning around. “I assure you, that would be very unwise.”
Without another word, he steps through the door, closing it behind him. I let out a long breath and wipe the sweat from my brow. Grabbing the phone, I dial Holly's number one more time.
Chapter Nineteen
Holly
“What the fuck did I do, Gabby?” I ask, covering my face with my hands. “Oh, my God. What did I do? How could I be so stupid?”
My stomach is turning, and I feel like I'm going to throw up. The hangover isn’t causing the sudden wave of nausea rising within me – even though it isn’t helping - at all. It's the fact that I married Brayden last night. In Vegas. I actually married Brayden!
Gabby sits back on her bed, arms crossed in front of her with an amused grin on her face. She's laughing like this is some sort of a joke. She doesn't understand just how serious this is. She doesn't get just how deep the shit I'm in is. Suffice it to say, it's deep. Really deep.
“Gabby! This is serious,” I screech. “I got married to a man I hardly know.”
“So, it's pretty much what your dad wanted to do anyway,” she says, still chuckling. “It just happens to be a different guy than the one he planned to sell you off to.”
I stop in my tracks, the wrenching in my stomach becoming almost overwhelming. Oh God. My father. I've been so caught up in my own idiotic mess that I haven't thought about him or that whole other situation yet.
The idea that I'm one of those stupid women who get drunk and marry a stranger in a Vegas chapel is enough to freak me out and send me barreling over the edge. But now – now, I have to think about what the consequences of my reckless actions will be for my father as well.
“Oh, God,” I moan, burying my face in my hands again. “Oh, goddammit. What in the hell did I do?”
With an incomprehensible feeling of dread, I dig my phone out of my purse and unlock it. The first thing I notice is that there are thirty-two missed calls, twenty-three voicemails, and forty-two unread text messages. I don't have to be a rocket scientist to know who they're from or what they say. I have had my phone on silent for days and was having such a great time, that I completely forgot about it. Pushed it out of my head like it didn't exist.
With a groan, I turn the volume back up and right away, my phone rings. It’s almost like my dad was sitting there waiting and was alerted when I turned the volume on my phone back on.
“Speak of the devil,” I groan.
I deny the call and drop down on the bed, lying flat on my stomach, burying my face in the blankets. I want to shut it all out. Ignore it and run away - somewhere far, far away. My life was a hot fucking mess before I came to Vegas, but now it’s a three-alarm dumpster fire.
“What am I going to do, Gabby?” I wail. “My dad is going to kill me when he finds out.”
“Maybe you should tell daddy dearest to stay out of your love life?” she says flippantly. “Just a thought, honey.”
She comes over and joins me on my bed, lying face down beside me with her head turned to look at me. There's nothing but love and compassion in her eyes. She knows what I'm dealing with. What I'm up against. But, I know that in her mind, the fact that I married Brayden is a good thing. To her, this gets me out from under my father's thumb.
It does anything but that. My dad is going to explode with rage when he finds out what happened. I’m positive he’s going to say a thousand terrible, degrading things to me. He'll demean me- make me feel selfish and small. He'll tell me that I betrayed our family by only thinking about myself, as usual. I can hear it all in my head and I'm still hundreds of miles away from what will be the epicenter of the upcoming dad-quake.
I have no doubt he will demand that I annul the marriage to Brayden and marry this Armando guy to keep his own ass out of the fire. And although I have every intention of annulling this stupid, impulsive marriage to Brayden – what in the hell was I thinking? – I certainly don’t want to marry that guy.
“Seriously, Holly,” Gabby says. “Your dad has no right to force you to marry anyone. Do you know how fucked up that is? I mean, really?”
I sigh. I know that it is fucked-up beyond belief. It honestly seems like something straight out of the Middle Ages. But at the same time, no one knows my family the way I do. Not even my best friend. My father has always been slightly controlling – okay, really controlling – and he has made up his mind on what he wants from me. He thinks he has the perfect blueprint of what my life should be, despite what I want and where my heart and my passion lies. And, for the most part, I haven’t done as he's asked. I've disappointed him time and time again.
This time though, he has really made me feel bad about being a disappointment to the Gallagher family name. He always makes me feel like I owe him something. Like I owe him my life.
Gabby continues. “Maybe this whole marriage to Brayden is a good thing,” she says.
I roll my eyes. “A good thing?”
She nods eagerly. “A blessing in disguise,” she says. “Maybe now that you're a married woman and officially off the market, your asshole dad can't force or coerce you into marrying this slime ball, Alejandro –”
“Armando,” I say.
“Whatever. He's a creep,” she says. “Hell, I'm surprised you know his name. You haven't even met the guy, and your dad expects you to spend the rest of your life with him? All because he made some really bad decisions?”
“I hardly know Brayden either though –”
“At least you've hung out with him and liked him. And he’s spent the last few days treating you like a damn princess,” she says. “Do you know what I would do for a guy who treats me half as well as Brayden's treated you? And hell, for all you know, this douchebag Armando has buck teeth, a beer belly, and a penchant for beating women.”
As she spoke, Gabby did her best impression of someone with buck teeth by jutting the top of her mouth out and crossing her eyes. Of course, this made me giggle. I playfully slap her on the shoulder and try to stifle my laughter.
“Stop,” I say. “This is serious.”
But neither of us are taking it very seriously at the moment. Gabby breaks down chuckling, rolling over on her back as I erupt into a giggling fit of my own. Eventually, the laughter fades and we're laying there, staring at one another. A mischievous smile crosses her face as she looks at me.
“It's very serious. Deadly serious. I mean, you went and got hitched and didn't even let me throw you a bachelorette party or perform my very much expected Maid of Honor duties,” she says, in an over-the-top serious tone. “I'm not sure I can forgive that. You have wounded me deeply, my dear girl.”
“Don't worry,” I say and pat her on the arm. “You'll be a big part of my next marriage, I promise.”
At the mention of marriage though, it brought back the deal my father has proposed to me. Or rather, the deal he insisted I take, and all the laughter and happiness inside of me suddenly vanishes. Like a puff of smoke on the breeze. The smile fades from my face at the thought of having to marry Armando.
All my life, I pictured my wedding day to be a happy time – with a man that I love standing at the end of the aisle, waiting there for me with love in his eyes. Not a stranger.
My phone rings again. “Jesus, dad,” I mutter, burying my head into the pillow. “Give it a damn rest, already.”
Gabby takes my phone, denies the call, and puts it back on silent, but I shake my head and reach for it. I grab it, but she doesn't let it go, and I sigh, my eyes already welling with tears.
“The only way to put a stop to the calls is to answer it,” I say. “It’s time to bite the bullet.”
Gabby raises an eyebrow and hesitates, holding my phone in her hands. I sit up and snatch it from her, just as my father calls again.
I connect the call, my voice coming out a bit huffy. “Yes?”
“Holly, where are you?” he demands. “Jesus Christ, I've been trying to reach you forever. Why haven't you been answering your phone or returning my texts?”
“Geez, sorry dad, my phone was on silent,” I say. “I'm with Gabby, we've been – out.”
I don't feel the need to tell him we are all the way in Vegas – or that I met a man and got married. My dad would freak the hell out, and God knows I don't need that. I've had enough of that over the years to last several lifetimes.
“We need to talk, Holly.”
“I know.”
“Can you come by and see me, today?”
I sigh and close my eyes. Honestly, I need to get the hell out of Vegas to avoid running into Brayden anyway. I don't want to deal with that situation right now. I don't want to face my dad either. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.
I can only handle one thing at a time and I think it might be better to deal with the devil I know than the devil I don't.
“Please, Holly?” he asks. “We really need to have a conversation.”
My father's voice softens a bit, and I hope I can talk some sense into him. I'll never be able to do that over the phone, though. If I'm going to get through to him and make him really understand what he's asking of me and why I don't want to do it, it has to be in person. He has to look me in the eyes and see just how badly this hurts me.
Given our track record, I'm not entirely hopeful that I can get through to him. He's always been overcontrolling, but if the guy he did business with is as bad as I think he is – meaning my dad’s life is in danger – I can imagine that the manipulation and guilt-tripping this round will be worse than ever. But, he's got to understand that selling me to this man's son to satisfy his debt is not the answer. It's not something that I can live with. And I need to impress upon him that it's not something he should be able to do with a clean conscience.
“Yes,” I say sharply. “I'll be there as soon as I can.”
I disconnect the call and Gabby is staring at me with disbelief on her face, but a well of sadness and pity in her eyes.
“Really? You're going to be over as soon as you can?” she says. “We're not even in the same state.”
“Looks like we're cutting the trip a bit short,” I say. “Unless you want to stay here.”
“Pfft, alone?” she asks. “What fun would that be?”
“Please, you would have a guy on your arm in no time,” I say and laugh, attempting to lighten the mood.
“It's not always about guys, silly,” she says, clearly not wanting to change the subject. Gabby leans her head on her arm and stares at me. “I want to be there for my best friend. I'm going to be there for my best friend. No matter what happens. I'm going to be with you every step of the way, Hol. Whatever happens, we'll get through it together.”
