Desiree
We turned into Cherry Hills Village, one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Denver, but we didn’t stop at any of the houses there. We traveled through the area, exiting it onto a highway that led to an entrance into another neighborhood about five miles away.
The guard checked Sam’s credentials and did a thorough undercarriage search of our cars before we were waved forward. A set of thick barriers were dropped before a tall metal gate started to roll apart. You were not getting into this neighborhood unless you were invited in or brave enough to shoot your way in as all the guards were armed. Based on where it was located, you weren’t even going to find the area unless you knew it was there.
The large white-brick sign with its fancy majestic black font, showcased that we were entering the Skyland Falls neighborhood. We drove another half mile before I started to see houses again.
The area had me doing double-takes, my eyes taking in the opulent setting. Spiraling mansions in the distance were spread apart with enough space and landscape to allow your neighbor the privacy they were paying for. I cracked my window, soaking up the fresh June air, so crisp on my skin that it produced a calming touch.
Nothing inside this neighborhood was worth less than a few million. I knew the Vallins were well-established arms dealers, but I was clueless as to their status in life as far as wealth and class. This was the kind of neighborhood you lived in when you had made it. Too bad I hadn’t made it here on my own.
I was nothing but a living bargaining chip, a trade among men of power. A team of depressing thoughts threatened to pull me into a pit of self-pity, but I swallowed them along with a bundle of stress and concentrated on the scenery.
Well-manicured trees and shrubs pageant waved in my direction. Manmade lakes and creeks gave the neighborhood a botanical garden theme. Birds chirped, and insects hummed, happy in their setting.
We drove about seven miles before reaching the end of the road of the community. Arjen’s house was the last residence. Outside the gates was nothing but rolling hills that danced their way to the scenic mountain range in the distance.
At the entrance to Arjen’s property, I waited behind Sam, snatching peeks inside until he entered a code that parted a thick metal gate. I followed as we drove past the picturesque front view to the side of the huge two-story wooden and stone mansion. Glass accented the dark wood and stone, giving the house a stylish vibe. The stoned driveway was laid out before the house like a thick, expensive carpet and wrapped around one side.
Sam’s beefy arm hung out of his driver’s side window as he waved me forward to drive past him. A four-car garage sat along the side of the house, a wide-open door showing it was already filled with cars. Sam pointed, directing me to pull off to the far side of the broad, paved driveway.
When I cut the engine and reached to open my door, I jumped when my door was snatched open. The man leaned into the car. Arjen.
“Desiree,” he whispered my name low, but audible enough for me to hear it. A ready smile filled with mischief greeted me. Given the nature of our arrangement, he appeared genuinely happy to see me as his face was aglow with flashes of his energy.
He reached for my hand in a gentlemanly fashion and waited until I dialed down my shock enough to take the hand he’d offered. There was no need for an introduction as we had already met. My gaze perused his exquisitely tall and devilishly handsome features.
After taking his strong hand, I eased from the car, still soaking him in. Attractive was an understatement. My self-esteem wasn’t low, but I remained confused about Arjen’s choice in picking me as his wife. I wasn’t a glamor girl, didn’t go out of my way to embrace fashion, and me and make-up only flirted on special occasions.
Shockingly tall and powerfully masculine, his low-cut dark blond hair, neatly stubbled face, and chiseled jaw line probably got him whatever he wanted and from anyone he wanted it from. His blue-grey eyes sparkled with hints of his devilish nature. Arjen had the power to hypnotize women, and I was sure that he was keenly aware of it.
“You remember me?” he asked, as his gaze scanned me from head to toe. “Yes,” I replied. He hadn’t let my hand go and openly checked me out while holding an appreciative smile.
“Am I everything you dreamed you would get in a wife?” I asked, releasing a little of the sarcasm I dished out whenever I found myself tossed into discomfort.
“And then some,” he replied. I had prepared my next words of sarcasm, but his response had thrown me off. His approving smile and scanning eyes revealed his truth. He liked what he saw although I was in jeans, a silk designer blouse, and a pair of stylish heels.
The blouse and heels were recent, just-because-you’re-my-favorite-cousin gifts from my cousin, Mecca. She was the snazzy dresser with the expensive taste. Sometimes, I would take her advice and put a little effort into my appearance. Sometimes, I would sacrifice my appearance for more time cultivating my passion for art. Sometimes, I didn’t give a damn.
Arjen gripped my hand with a tight hold and pointed with the other towards the open garage door. “This way, sweet Desiree,” he stated, and I could hear the playfulness in his tone. But, he didn’t fool me, he was a pit bull with a new chew toy.
Given his dangerous reputation, it was difficult to get a read on Arjen. I sensed that he didn’t intend me any harm, but there was an underlying seriousness about him that I knew not to test. I forced my legs to move before he dragged me since he clearly didn’t intend to let my hand go.
“I want you to be comfortable, Desiree. If you need anything, come to me. If anyone says or does anything you don’t like, come to me,” he briefed as we walked.
We stopped at the entrance of the large garage that had four cars parked inside. He readjusted my hand, placing it between his as he faced me. “I need you to come to me for anything,” he reiterated, eyeing me with stern intensity.
“O….kay,” I replied, noticing how he’d stressed the word anything. I was starting to think that this marriage was more than a binding of families for the sake of illegal activity. Was my future husband insinuating that we would be more than an arrangement?
He closed his hand around mine, tightening his hold before he proceeded to lead me past the fleet of luxury vehicles he owned.
“I want you to have access to everything I have, so I’ll make sure you get keys to all the cars,” he stated, pointing at them as we swept past. I glimpsed a black Bentley Continental GT, a metallic blue Ferrari 488 Spider, and a silver drop-top Benz among the fleet.
He made a hand gesture towards the cars, directing my gaze to them once more. “I’ll move one of these to the spare garage so we can make room for you to park your car in here.”
“Okay.” If I didn’t find another word besides okay, it may be the only one he believed I knew.
“Do you like your car, Desiree?” he asked, glancing back, his inquisitive eyes raking me from top to bottom.