Chapter 74: Scott's Work

Scott's POV-

I stared at Molly's disappearing back, wondering if that sight would ever stop hurting... or pissing me off. I spun around and stormed into the house. I was amazed that I made it all the way inside before putting my fist into the door frame.
The imprint of my fist on the frame and the sharp pain in my knuckles were nowhere near enough to ease the agony in my chest.
I could not lose Molly.
She was quickly becoming the air I breathed. My desire to have her near was more than just my need to make her mine. Molly was amazing through and through. Even her ability to piss me off so irrevocably and still make me want to pull her into my arms was amazing. No matter how much pain and anger Molly caused
I still needed her in my life.
One way or another.
The tight knot in my chest eased slightly. I may not be Molly's Dom at the moment, but there was still time to get her to change her mind. Molly wasn't going anywhere until her schooling was done, and I was busy helping my father. Neither one of us was leaving anytime soon.
"There was time," I said out loud, hoping the words would soothe the pain in my chest.
It didn't alleviate the pain completely, but it helped give me the strength to move away from the doorway. I didn't have time to formulate a strategy to get Molly back in my life, but that in no way meant that I would be giving up.
If Molly thought this truly was the end of the fight... then she was sadly mistaken.
**********
By the time I got to the office, it was two hours and sixteen minutes later. I knew that because the minute I stepped off the elevator, my father was waiting there, and he made sure to tell me.
"Where the hell have you been?!" Paul shouted.
My hand tightened painfully around the handle of my briefcase. "Dad, not now. I am in no mood for your rants. Just tell me what's going on."
"You need to go to California now... Tonight!" My father demanded.
I immediately shook my head. "I already promised-"
"I don't give a damn!" Paul shouted, slamming his fist into the table.
A frightened squeal caught my attention. I looked around the room, realizing that we were out in a public area. Our arguments were playing out for the whole company to see.
"Let's take this somewhere more private," I insisted firmly.
Paul looked around the room, then made a frustrated sound before storming off into my office. I rolled my eyes at my father's childish behavior. There was no way I was going to be able to hold on to my patience. After everything that had happened today, I did not have a single ounce of patience for him.
I followed him into my office and slowly shut my door, hoping my patience would fix itself. I need just a single thread to survive my father. I threw my briefcase in the nearest chair and turned to face my father.
"Dad, I can't go to California tonight-"
"Not going tonight," My father interrupted me.
My shoulders sagged as a sense of relief washed over me. "Thank you, Dad. I'll leave as soon as Molly's test is over.''
Paul's eyes narrowed at me, and I saw a nerve twitch in his cheek. "No."
I reeled away from the harsh tone. "What?"
"No. You're gonna leave right away. We can no longer wait for you to get done playing white knight to two teenage girls. You need to head to California NOW,"
My father ordered me.
"The hell I am!" I shouted, my patience gone.
"It has already been decided!" Paul shouted back.
My hands clenched into fists as I tried not to give in to the urge to punch him in the face.
"You can not order me around, Dad! I am not just another employee."
"No! You are my son! I expected better from you!" Paul countered, disappointment dripping from every word.
His words were painful, but I was surprised when they angered me more than hurt me.
The surprise rendered me speechless as I tried to sort out what had changed. Unfortunately, Paul took my stunned silence as my agreement.
"Now... Francesca has already packed your stuff, and I have your tickets. Your plane leaves in an hour," he stated smugly. "I expect a phone call the minute you two land so we can-"
I held my hands up to stop his flow of words to give my mind a minute to process everything. There were too many unanswered questions and fuzzy details. But there was one thing that stuck out for me. Someone was going with me.
"Wait, wait, wait," I said when I saw my father starting to talk again. "You got multiple tickets? Who is going with me?"
"Your assistant, of course. You're gonna need her while you're down there. So, I had her get you're things together. She is downstairs waiting for you right now. You had better get going so you don't miss your plane."
Before I could say anything else, my father left the room with much more dignity than he had entered. I stared at him incredulously, unable to believe that he had railroaded me into doing his bidding.
Of course, I could tell him where to shove it. But knowing Paul's attitude lately, I would not only without a job but a home as well.
Neither would have been too awful, except it would ruin my plans to fight to get Molly back. The last thing I wanted to do was put that any further into jeopardy.
"Fuck!" I snarled as I grabbed my briefcase.
I had no choice again, and Paul had made sure I didn't have time to get a hold of Willimina to back me up. Paul was making sharp, calculated moves, and I felt like they were all against me.
I just wished he would tell me why my own father was out to get me.
When I finally joined Francesca in the lobby, her deep red lips turned up in a welcoming grin as soon as she saw me. On the one hand, it was nice to know someone was happy to see me. On the other, the hungry, eager look in her eyes as they perused my body made me acutely uncomfortable.
Francesca was a well-organized, highly efficient, and well-liked assistant. Normally, a woman flirting with me was flattering and amusing to me. But Francesca always did more than just harmless flirting. It didn't seem to matter how hard I tried to keep things on a mostly professional level; Francesca always seemed undeterred.
She would always find a way to "inadvertently" rub up against me. When we were around other women, she would act almost territorial. I couldn't even begin to count how many times I'd had to field the question as to whether or not we were dating.
I had talked to Paul about it several times, wanting to let Francesca go. But he had always talked me out of it. I was starting to wonder if my father WANTED something to happen between us.
"Hey, Scott," Francesca purred, pulling me out of my thoughts. "You ready for our little romantic getaway?"
My eyebrows raised in surprise at her familiarity. She had never called me anything but Mr. Monroe up until now. I had a sinking feeling in my gut that Francesca was trying to move us to a new level.
My sinking feeling came along with a few warning bells. This trip to California was going to be a lot more difficult than I had suspected and in an entirely different way.