Page 3 of Beautiful Chaos

Page List


Font:  

Desiree

Thinking about what my life was about to become, sent fear knifing through my psyche and had me stress working to combat the internal ache. Sleep hadn’t lulled me fully under since my father’s request a week ago. My buzzing phone broke me out of my tiring thoughts.

“Hey, Des,” Patrena’s reply sounded after my quick hello.

Despite my father warning me not to, I had called Mecca and given her a heads up on what was about to happen. As I suspected, she embraced the idea of marrying into another crime family. She hadn’t met the Vallin men, but that didn’t stop her from being ready for an alliance.

Mecca had been complaining about my father making poor decisions for the Black Saints for years, so she saw the alliance as a much-needed improvement. Her only concern was that I had been thrown into the mix.

I hadn’t had a chance to get together with Patrena to give her the full story. So far, she knew my father had asked me to marry Arjen Vallin, and her initial response had been dead silence with crickets chirping in the background.

“I was calling to check on you. Are you all right? How’s the situation going?” Patrena’s questions pulled me deeper into the pressing conditions riding my shoulders.

“I’m okay. I’m trying not to think how all this is going to turn out and praying it will all just go away. I don’t want to do this, but my father could be in real trouble if I don’t. Besides, the deal has been struck—men shaking hands on the sale of my life.”

My voice spilled into the phone, the words a low stutter as they squeezed past the lump in my throat. “My future husband didn’t waste any time calling to inform me that I’ll be living with him, and we will be married by next Friday.”

Patrena’s loud gasp sounded. “Desiree,” she dragged out my full name, though she usually called me, Des. “I’m so sorry.”

Although I had grown up in the game, I had managed to wiggle free of it somewhat. Now, I’m being thrown back in headfirst with a vengeance.

“What are you going to do? My offer still stands, you know. You can work from anywhere, and I can help you get to another country.”

“It’s a tempting offer, but I can’t leave you and Mecca. I can’t even abandon my father, even though he’s about to throw me to the wolves.”

“You always put everyone before yourself, Des. It’s okay to look out for you, especially in a situation like this one. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself to that life.”

“I honestly don’t know how to feel about this indecent proposal. Anger, resentment, fear, and anxiousness are constantly swirling inside me. Mecca has been fighting hard for me, attempting to talk my father into pulling me out of the deal.”

However, I knew better. You don’t back out of a deal struck with the kind of organization my father was about to connect us to. The same could be said about the Black Saints, but having intimate knowledge of the members, somehow made us seem less hostile.

“My boss just stepped into my office, giving me the evil eye. I’ll call you back in a little bit,” Patrena whispered. She worked as a domestic abuse counselor at our local clinic. She was working on her doctorate in the hopes of someday opening her own clinic. She had chosen the field because her mother had been a victim who had died at the hands of her father because her mother had been too afraid to leave him.

Patrena had witnessed her mother’s murder and at five had gone into foster care. She worked tirelessly, helping women the way she wished someone had helped her mother.

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too. We’ll chat later,” she replied, her words rushed.

My fingers curled around my aching forehead, rubbing at my temples until my fingertips burned. I had spoken to my fiancé briefly as he informed me that I could call or text him anytime. The plan was for me to be packed and ready to move in with him today. I was as reluctant to show up at the address he had provided, as I was to call him.

The situation wasn’t sitting well. My stomach rolled into a queasy knot at the notion of being the subject of an arranged marriage, although I had agreed to it. The Vallin name was a popular subject of street whispers that would have you believe they were blood-thirsty savages.

I wasn’t opposed to dating outside my race but marrying outside of it was a whole different type of beast. I’d heard some of what was said behind closed doors and had been witness to the unfair treatment to some mixed couples in some public places.

I knew nothing of the Vallin’s opinions on race relations, and I couldn’t help thinking the worst. The last thing I wanted was to arrive at Arjen Vallin’s place and have the wrong person see brown skin and mistake me for the help.

I considered myself an even-tempered woman, but I didn’t tolerate people talking down to me. The temper I inherited from my father would come shining through if stroked by the cold hand of disrespect.

After tackling and overcoming self-hate a long time ago, I refused to tolerate it from someone else. I had rested too long in my own immaturity when I was younger and now believed that I deserved to be treated with the same respect I was finally learning to lavish upon myself.

This situation was a direct attack against the respect I desired, but when it came to family, I tended to tolerate them due to blood ties and blind loyalty.

A loud knock on my door jolted me behind my desk, kicking up my heart rate. I directed my glance past my open office door towards my living room. Making the decision to ignore the knock, I continued working on my latest design. Anyone who wanted access to my apartment always called ahead of time. It must have been someone that lived inside the building because you weren’t getting into the apartment complex or the building without access codes.

Bam! Bam! Bam!Again, a loud knock sounded. Who the hell?

Why weren’t they ringing the doorbell? The white-lit circle next to the doorframe wasn’t hard to miss. I lumbered to the door, not in the mood to talk to anyone. The idea of taking my packed bags and fleeing to Mexico bubbled to the surface of my brain. The idea ignited a peppery spark and the person at my door was about to reap the benefits of my attitude.


Tags: Keta Kendric Romance