Before I can understand what he said and get the reply, Keenan takes the phone away from my grasp.

“Did you do this, Dad?” he asks through gritted teeth and I feel he’s angry even though his expression shows anything but that.

“Calm down, son and come open the door for me, I’m outside.” the man on the other side of the phone says with a calm voice. Not bothered to answer his son’s question.

Keenan tosses the phone and hastily walks to the door and when he opens it Patrick who is around his early mid-sixties with ginger and grey colour of hair walks in. His blue eyes, which are a striking resemblance to Keenan’s, meet mine and he gives me a warm-hearted smile. It is a genuine smile, but I do not smile back because a part of me feels like he’s the reason we are in this mess, to begin with. He must have read my thoughts because the smile on his face disappears and he walks further into the room.

He’s wearing a three pieces black suit, neatly and expertly ironed out and although he’s no longer young. Well, he is pretty young for a sixty-year-old man. I can say there isn’t much difference between the man I saw three years ago in Bethany’s office and the man standing here now. I believe the much care and the money seems to still keep him in check and shape.

The old man also holds a striking resemblance to his son, not just with the same hair colour, and the same colour of his eyes, but also having the same body built, movement and gestures are almost identical to Keenan’s and his jaw is also strong and his height just like Keenan.

“I asked you a question!” Keenan thunders and I jump because he’s so close to where I’m standing at the door, but his father doesn’t seem to mind his tone.

“Maybe.” the man shrugs casually, his eyes daring Keenan to do his worse and Keenan cusses under his breath.

Keenan’s hand balls into a fist and Patrick just raises a ‘seriously’ brow at him. “I’d take the challenge any day cause it’ll be fun beating you senselessly and bringing some sense into you,” he states in a matter-of-fact tone as he states intensely at Keenan.

Did this man just dare his son into a fistfight? I ask myself, shocked at my bone at the confidence the old man has before his son.

“But you can unclasp your fist ‘cause that day isn’t today son.” He tells him dismissively.

Keenan doesn’t unclasp his fist at his words as he stews and stares at his father murderously and his teeth grind, hardly trying to control his rage.

Looks like they might end up having a rumble in this room as if Keenan hasn’t done enough harm to this house already. I am a bit terrified because I have never been a fan of violence because of the pain that follows, but right now I am not even worried about myself; I am worried for the old man who seems to piss his son off more with every second and word he utters. Maybe he is as strong as he thinks he is and he and Keenan are the same height and built and maybe even stronger, but Keenan is angry and an angry and hurt man like him carries the strength of many. I fear that this man that brought himself in on his own two legs may end up being rolled out on a stretcher if he continues to push and make matters worse.

“I’m not here for a fight. Keenan put those fists away. You’re scaring the Lady.” The man orders with a strict voice and Keenan turns to look at me and I don’t know what he saw in my eyes, but grunting angrily, but to obey and unclenches his fist.

“This was all your plan. Why would my father do such a thing?” Keenan exclaims. His voice holds many emotions, but rage clouds them all up.

“Why?” the old man demands with a surprised looked. “Someone had to help you.”

“Di che diavolo stai parlando?! (What the hell are you talking about?!)” He shouts at Patrick, “Getting me married is not helping me!”

I don’t think I will say this again, but I agree with Keenan, and I don’t think Patrick is helping him by what he’s doing. He’s only going to make things worse for Keenan and me.

Marriage fixes nothing that’s broken. I have my late mother and father to testify to that. And he picked the two worst matches and placed them together. He should have known it was going to be a disaster, especially because it wasn’t our choice.

Patrick takes his seat comfortably on the side of the couch. Keenan's destruction didn’t get to and places his suitcase on his legs, then he opens it before pulling out a file with a laminated back from inside.

I try to look at the paper in his hand from where I am standing, trying to see if it is the same marriage certificate Keenan had shown me earlier, but I can’t make it out before Patrick turns it away.

“Sto dicendo la verità che sembra stia evitando (I’m saying the truth you seem to be avoided)” the man says before speaking in English, “Face it, Keenan, this is much help than you deserve.” He comments, probably still not seeing his fault in all of this.

Keenan runs his hand through his hair, then tug on it hard, “I never asked for your help.” He ground out so slowly I can almost spell it, and I can feel his frustration.

Patrick ignores the heat in Keenan’s voice, which already makes me feel sweaty. “You’re not getting any younger and neither am I. I need grandchildren!”

“You already have grandchildren. Bethany has three last time I checked!” He answers, in a brittle tone and annoyance, and walks away from his father and towards the side of the room where the bar is.

I watch Keenan as he goes in and picks a bottle of scotch but takes no glass cup along and walks out. Yes, back to drinking, the same thing that landed us in this whole mess. He takes the bottle to his mouth and drinks a little before taking it from his lips.

Patrick shakes his head, and he hands Keenan the file with the laminated back, and Keenan yanks it roughly from him. “No, I want grandchildren from you and I would not get that from you in ten years from the way you were going.” Patrick locks his suitcase and rises to his feet.

I don’t know who is more arrogant now, Keenan or his father.

“What I don’t understand is, what kind of sick father drugs their son into marriage??” Keenan blurts out in confusion, looking up from the file in his hand.

“One that is desperate and wants the best for him.” he points to the file already in Keenan’s hand. “I advice you carefully read it before you decide.”

“So what, you just pick some random girl and peg her to me?” He demands and points his hand holding the file at me, to further clarify his point.

I feel my heart clench in my chest and my inside turns into ice and my brow rises. I am not just any girl. And, I thought we were friends, obviously; it seems like I’m the only one with that mindset.

I know the answer now. Keenan is the most arrogant of the two of them.

“I’m right here,” I snap back, bringing their attention to me who is currently standing at the extreme side of the room, “and for your information, I didn’t ask for any of this, I’m in as much mess as you are Mr Hilton.” I don’t know why he isn’t seeing that aspect.

Patrick rolls his eyes, “You don’t have to be so formal, you can call him Keenan. He is your husband after all.”

“That’s the problem. I have a boyfriend, one that I love and one that adores me, and you, old man, took that away from me with what you did last night. I never asked to be part of this, and neither do I want to now. Did you forget I have a life and a career? I’m not some toy that you can toss and married off!” I rasp with my voice rising higher.

He makes a clicking sound with his tongue and he shrugs. “I guess that is a mess. The both of you have to clean up and if you want a divorce, file for it and for your information, that takes a lot of months.” He walks to his son and stretches his hand to his son for a shake, but Keenan doesn’t take it, “Happy married life son.” He taps his son’s shoulder instead.

He walks to me, he takes my hand and kisses them before looking me straight in the eyes with his blue ones, “You’re right you don’t serve this and I’m sorry for what you’re going through, but I’ve seen you with him and I think you are what he needs and you both can make it work.” His eyes are sincere and apologetic as they hold on to mine, “If he chooses divorce I’ve already arranged with the divorce court in London and I have a good friend there Ayesha Vardag she owes me a favour and will be happy to help and make sure you file for nothing less than half of his wealth, it’ll be yours. Consider that my way of saying sorry.” he tells me with seriousness and my eyes widen.

Did he just tell me what to use against his son? ‘What kind of father does that?!’

“As I said before, one that is desperate and loves his son and besides, I know you deserve it,” he replies.

He pats my hand before dropping it and picking up his suitcase. And he slides his free hand into his pocket before walking away.

Now I know where Keenan learnt how to be so straightforward and arrogant, and Keenan is still learning compared to Patrick.

My mouth is still hanging wide from shock and I turn to Keenan, who is sitting and getting himself drunk for the early morning.

“Your father—” I start as I regain myself from the shock I’ve been tossed into in the last couple of minutes.

“Is a big dick.” He nods his bottle towards me. “I know,” he replies before taking it to his mouth again.

I was going to say sick, but dick rhyme perfectly. “What do we do then?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, glaring at the file in his hand. He drops the bottle in his hand on the floor and opens the file he’s been holding for a while now. “I’ll have to read this file and see what madness the old man has cooked up.”

I clap my hands together awkwardly as I do not see what else I should do around. “Look, I need to see Levi,” I speak up and he looks up from the file at me, not looking bothered or interested. “I need to talk to him, tell him what has happened.”

The last part of what I said must have gotten to him because he speaks up. “What?! You can’t do that,” he instructs like I’m a baby being told what to do and what not to do again.

I roll my eyes, “Do what?”

“Tell him we married,” he says it like we killed someone together.

Hope we didn’t though.

“Are you okay?” How on earth does he not expect me to not tell Levi what happened, “I don’t know how relationships work for you, but he’s my boyfriend and I have to be honest with him.”

“I don’t trust him.” he points out straightforwardly with a blank face, “besides the last thing I want is my private life in the hand of just anybody.” he retorts.

“He is not just anybody, you je—” I stop myself before I can finish saying the nasty word in anger. “He’s my boyfriend and I trust him and I am involved in this private life of yours, so he has to know!” I yell out loud with my hands balling into a hard fist.

His eyes rise questionable, but he still nods, “Fine, tell him whatever you want.” he says, sounding care-less and I fume and glare at him.

“I will,” I reply and walk out of the nightmare called a house.

Once outside, I turn on my phone before dialling Levi’s number, and after ringing a few times, he answers to my great relief.

“Hello Vary?” comes his amazing voice, and it cools my worry and perplexity. I hear the worry in his tone and, more than anything, I want it gone. “Vary, if this is you, please answer me. I’m begging you, love.” He says as I hesitated to speak.

I bite down on my lips in agony and sadness. I cannot imagine how I’m going to tell him everything on the phone cause it’s inappropriate and now not to feel guilty for keeping quiet either.

“Please talk to me, Vary,” he begs, his voice desperate.

“Can I see you?” is all I can make comes out of my mouth.

“Where Hun?” Is his instant response.

“Are you home?” the question appears to be absurd because Levi is the ‘never miss work’ kind of guy, so I kinda knew my answer before I even asked.

“Yea, I am.” he replies to my bafflement, but he continues, “I couldn’t make it to the gym, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus when I’m so worried about you.”

A smile spreads across my face and never leaves and although my aching heart, I am still grateful Levi is in my life.

“I’m coming over,” I tell him hurriedly before ending the call.

**

I arrive at the apartment where Levi lives and, being greeted by the warm breeze, I make my way inside; I get into the elevator and gingerly press the button to the third floor.

I feel butterflies running around my stomach, half in happiness and half in fear. I can’t wait to see him, but I know I am not the woman I was yesterday. Our relationship might come to a terrible end today, but I’m counting on the love Levi has for me to make him want to walk with me through this mess.

Once the elevator door opens, I make my way to the third door on my left and when I get there; I knock lightly and I wait. After a few seconds the door opens, and it reveals Levi in a pair of jeans trousers and a white singlet and his hair is mildly rough, and his dull blue eyes catch a spark when they finally meet mine.

“Can I come in?” I asked, fidgeting with my fingers and trying to avoid his gaze as much as I can.

He nods and widens the door further so I can enter. I step in and the door closes and look around his clean-kept apartment before turning to his questioning eyes. I know he has a lot of questions, and I’m going to answer every one of them as honestly as I can.

But before I can open my mouth and say a word, he wraps his arms around me and hugs me tightly like I’m going to escape if he doesn’t. I manage a surprised laugh and hug him back and we just stay like that for the next couple of minutes.

I don’t care if we remain like this forever. I’m home.