Barton sneered. “I’ll just bet you did. Probably because you guessed there’d be a big payday in it for you. Tell me, Scarlett, how much did my son pay you to help my granddaughter?”
Scarlett had been expecting this question ever since she’d clued him in about her parentage and connection to Hannah. Still, it made her blood boil to hear the scorn in his voice, to know he just assumed she had only agreed to the bone marrow donation if there had been something in it for her.
“Not a damned penny,” she replied stonily. “Oh, they offered, of course. Or I should say Jackson offered because apparently dear old daddy doesn’t have a whole lot of his own money. But I refused, Mr. Gilmore. Despite what you might think of me, whatever dirt your crackerjack detective turned up about my past, I’m neither heartless nor mercenary. And even though I’ll probably never get to meet Hannah, she’s still my half-sister, still bound to me by blood. I did it for her. Because she’s a fourteen year old girl who didn’t deserve to get sick. And when I was a little older than she was someone saved my life. Not in the same way, but by taking me into their home and making me feel safe for the first time ever.”
Barton wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I assume you’re referring to your foster mothers - the lesbian couple. Did you enjoy your Christmas holiday with them?”
He uttered the word lesbian as though it was something unnatural or dirty, and Scarlett instantly forgot about her vow to remain cool, calm, and collected.
“You bigoted son of a bitch,” she hissed, pointing a finger at him warningly. “Don’t you dare say one word about two of the finest people in the whole world. My foster mothers are kind, wonderful, compassionate women, and you don’t deserve to speak their names. So don’t. As for Christmas, it was wonderful, one of the best times of my life. And when I told Jackson about it, he wished he could have been with us rather than endure - what was it, six or seven courses - of some stuffy ass dinner at your house. By the way, uber creepy that you even know where I spent Christmas.”
Barton was visibly startled at her outburst, clearly unused to anyone not only standing up to him but telling him off and calling him names. To his credit, he held up his hands briefly as if to surrender and changed the subject.
“Fine. That particular subject is closed. But I don’t believe for a minute that money wasn’t part of your decision to help my granddaughter,” he stated. “I happen to know you were living in a hovel prior to moving into this very nice apartment, that you were at college on a scholarship. And that you couldn’t have possibly afforded all this on your own.”
She shook her head in revulsion. “Jesus, you are a nosy bastard, aren’t you? So let’s stop all of this BS right now, okay? Once again, I did not accept any money from Neil or Jackson or anyone else as a condition of donating bone marrow to Hannah. I’ve got a lot of faults, Mr. Gilmore, made some bad decisions in my life. But I’m not a cold-blooded gold-digger. However, my father did owe me plenty. Not for helping his other daughter out but for the support he should have been giving me for twenty-one years. So I put together some figures, what it would cost for a year’s tuition and rent and expenses, and he agreed to cover it. A very, very small percentage of what he really owed me, but that’s all I asked for. I haven’t seen or heard a word from him since before the procedure, and I don’t give a damn if I never hear from him again. End of story. Would you care for more coffee?”
Once again Barton looked startled, almost blindsided, by her calm but forceful tirade. It was clear that he wasn’t used to being talked back to, or defied, especially not by someone so much younger than he was. But since he was something of an old hand at this game of intimidation and threats and manipulation, it only took him mere moments to recoup and strike back.
“No,” he replied bluntly, reaching into the back pocket of his trousers and pulling out a leather covered checkbook. “But since we’re on the topic of money, I’m prepared to make you an offer that you would be well advised to accept, Scarlett. Now, I’m going to write you a check - a very generous check that will set you up for the rest of your life. You’d be a fool to turn down this amount of money. And in return for my very generous gift you’re going to end your relationship with Jackson, cut off all contact and agree to never see him again. You’re also not going to even think of doing something as stupid and ill-advised as trying to make contact with your father or my granddaughter. The last thing I’ll ever permit is for anyone else in the family to find out about you. As far as I’m concerned you don’t exist. And if you go back on your word, not only will I see to it personally that you never, ever get a job in your chosen profession, but I’ll fire your father, his brothers, and brother-in-law from my company and see to it that none of them ever work in the construction business again. And that would all be on your conscience. So what’s it going to be, Miss Strohman? Be unselfish, end things with my son, and save your family members their jobs? Or think only of yourself and do irreparable harm to several families?”
Scarlett rolled her eyes, waving him off as he would have begun to write her out a check. “Oh, for God’s sake! Blah, blah, blah. I mean, do you ever listen to yourself talk? You sound like some evil overlord or a relic from the nineteenth century. And maybe you think you can intimidate your employees or your family with that sort of bullshit, but you don’t scare me in the least, Mr. Gilmore. Oh, and put that stupid checkbook away - who still writes checks anyway - because you can’t buy me off. Like it or not Jackson and I are together, and if you signed over every penny you owned to me I’d still tell you to stuff it. As for those empty threats about preventing me from getting a job, too late. I already have an offer.”
Barton’s cheeks were flushed a dark, angry red, and he looked about ready to burst a vein. “Impossible,” he hissed. “Who in their right mind would hire a vicious tongued little bitch like you?”
“I would,” replied a calm, firm masculine voice. “She’s going to be the head architect for a brand new company. My brand new company. And if you even think of firing Neil’s brothers and brother-in-law, I’ll make sure they all have jobs. Either with my new company or with friends. Friends that you have zero influence over, Dad.”
Scarlett and Barton whirled to gaze at Jackson - she in relieved gratitude, Barton in stony faced shock. At his beckoning, she rushed over to him, grateful for the reassuring feel of his arm around her shoulders, which she took as his silent admonition to let him handle things from here on out. And while she felt more than capable of continuing to deal with his nasty, overbearing father, she was also just as happy to let Jackson take over the fight.
Barton looked over his youngest son with something resembling a sneer. “Late night, Jack? You look a little worse for wear.”
Jackson shrugged, not seeming to care in the least that his father evidently found his loose fitting track pants, ratty T-shirt, bare feet, and unshaven face objectionable. “I was about to head into the shower, actually, when I heard the two of you going at it. At first I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, that the person Scarlett was arguing with was my father. So first question, Dad. What in hell are you doing here? And question number two. What gives you the right - no, make that the balls - to bribe the woman I love into leaving me with your dirty money? You don’t get to butt into my life that way, Dad. I’m a grown man, and I’ve been making my own decisions for a long time. And in my opinion, Scarlett is the best decision I’ve ever made.”