Chapter 1
Karessa
I sit in the lobby seething. The luxury of his office speaks to the wealth of a founding family with the coolness of Oran Hale’s personality. Sleek and cozy, yet impersonal, cream marble with a gold and black inlay creates interesting swirls under my feet. The black, cream, and gold motif somehow manifests his power. Except for the floor to ceiling windows, all the walls are black wood with hints of grey. The leather couches lining the windows have gold metal accents and look much more comfortable than the seat I was ordered to take.
Impatience prickles my skin as I double check my gold bracelet watch. I’ve been here twenty minutes. I have a vehicle full of my belongings and nowhere to go yet my “fiancé” doesn’t know who I am. It’s obvious. If he knew who I am and who my father is, I wouldn’t be sitting in the lobby waiting for a job interview. I didn’t apply for one and I didn’t need one until my dad froze everything. My skin flushes with embarrassment again as I remember being so caustically kicked out of the store when my card didn’t work. And if my so-called friends think I’ll forget how they’ve ghosted me since it happened, well, they’ll be sorely mistaken.
Uncrossing my legs from left over right, I switch to right over left and refold my arms although the silkiness of my shirt is suffering from my irritation. Speaking of my shirt. Did this shirt look like the shirt of a secretary! I’m so over him but I’ve fought with my dad for over a month to no avail, I’m tired and frustrated. For the tenth time today, I fight the urge to cry.
How could my dad do this to me?
My soon-to-be-husband’s voice rises beyond the shiny wooden door. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I know that he’s even crankier than he was a moment prior and that’s saying a lot. Uncrossing my legs, I lean forward trying to catch at least a small piece of what he’s saying. My palm, damp with sweat, balances me on the other plastic chair. Just when I’m sure I can make out something, the door suddenly swings open, causing me to jump. Reaching out, I brace myself for the fall, making a loud plop of skin hitting wood.
“What a fucking nightmare. Who falls sitting? Get your ass in here when you learn how to walk,” he barks at me and stalks from the door.
“Such a gentleman,” I murmur as I scramble to my feet. “Shit!” I softly rant once I’ve realized I scuffed my nude Manolo Blahnik pumps on my right foot. I’m pissed but don’t get why I’m moving so softly, so quietly.
Oran is perched on the side of his desk when I enter, his muscular arms are folded, stretching his expensive pale blue dress shirt taut against his biceps. His gray eyes scan my body from toe to head then back down. His trademark scowl remains and his gaze is assessing, there’s no warmth or appreciation present. A chill slices down my spine from his look alone. He could have been Superman with his dark, inky hair, light eyes, and square jaw with the cleft in his chin except he’s not a hero. He’s not trying to be anyone’s saviour.
“How in the fuck did I get stuck with you? Are you one of those women obsessed with my dick and somehow tricked my dad into trying to saddle me to you?”
His irises become stormier with each word. Anger rolls off his body attempting to choke me where I still stand at the door.
I have never had such venom directed at me, and it momentarily throws off my equilibrium and freezes my ability to speak.
Oran’s jaw ticks as he continues to study me.
“Mute,” he snorts. “That would be a good quality if I WASN’T FUCKING ASKING YOU A QUESTION!”
I flinch and his booming voice thunders through his office. Standing, he stalks towards me, his body graceful yet menacing. A beautiful man made of my worst nightmares. The closer he gets, the more despair seizes my body.
How could my dad do this?
He bends his big body to be nose-to-nose with me. His heavenly scent belies the devil inside. I’m stuck, his eyes trap me inside of them, they aren’t the usual light gray I’m used to seeing. No, they’re dark slate, vivid yet dangerous, and filled with maliciousness just for me.
“How… how tall are you?” I whisper, worried about the wrong thing.
Scoffing, he shakes his head. “Not that smart, either,” he mumbles to himself. “None of your fucking business. Why? Are you planning to climb me?” He sighs with another head shake. “Forget that. Answer my previous question before I shake it out of you.”
“My dad lost a bet to your dad.”
“So?”
“I was the prize.”
“A fuc
king prize to who? I don’t want you. Getting you is no better than one of those worthless stuffed animals from a fair.”