Book 2: Wrong Car, Right Devil

Book 2: Ruthless Daddy

Intro: She ran from one cage... straight into another.

Scarlett Martinez had one rule on her wedding day: escape at all costs. She slapped her pompous groom, told the priest "no," and ran straight into what she thought was her getaway car.

Wrong car. Wrong driver and wrong man entirely.

Chapter 1:

Wrong Car, Right Devil:

The white silk dress felt like a prison around Scarlett's body as she stood at the altar, staring at the man who thought he owned her. Marcus Wellington III stood there with that smug smile she'd grown to hate, his perfectly styled blonde hair gleaming under the church lights, his blue eyes filled with the kind of entitlement that made her stomach turn. Everything about him screamed money and control.

"Do you, Scarlett Rose Martinez, take Marcus Wellington III to be your lawfully wedded husband?" Father McKenzie's voice echoed through the packed cathedral.

The silence stretched. Every eye in the church was on her. Her father sat in the front row, his face hard with expectation. Marcus's parents looked pleased, already counting the millions this merger would bring their family. The society photographers waited with their cameras ready.

Scarlett looked at Marcus one more time, at his perfect suit which cost more than most people made in a year. On their way to the church, he acted like marrying her was some great favor. At how he'd spent the entire engagement telling everyone how lucky she was, how generous he was being, how much this wedding cost him.

"Do you know how much I spent on this ring?" he'd said just yesterday. "Five hundred thousand dollars. Most women would kill for a man like me."

She'd wanted to tell him that most women would run.

Now, she smiled. She can't say yes to this man who thinks the world revolves around him.

"No."

The word rang out clear and strong. A collective gasp rippled through the congregation. Marcus's face went white, then red.

"Excuse me?" Father McKenzie blinked.

"I said no." Scarlett turned to face the crowd, her voice carrying to every corner of the cathedral. "I will not marry this pompous, arrogant man who thinks money makes him God's gift to women."

"Scarlett!" Her father shot to his feet. "What are you doing?"

Marcus grabbed her wrist, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "You're making a mistake. Do you have any idea who I am? What my family…"

The slap echoed through the church like a gunshot.

Marcus stumbled backward, his hand flying to his cheek, shock replacing his anger. "You hit me. You actually hit me."

"And I'll do it again if you dare touch me." Scarlett lifted her dress and started walking down the aisle. "This wedding is over."

"Scarlett Rose Martinez, you get back here this instant!" her father roared.

She didn't look back. Not at her father's fury, or at the guests pulling out their phones, and not even at Marcus shouting about lawsuits and embarrassment she will face. She pushed through the cathedral doors and into the afternoon sunlight.

Maya's car should be waiting. A simple black sedan, Maya had said. Right in front of the church, the car engine will be running and ready to take her straight to the airport where a one-way ticket to anywhere was waiting.

There, a sleek black car sat at the curb, engine purring. Scarlett ran, her heels clicking on the stone steps, her dress flowing behind her like a white flag behine her. She yanked open the rear door and threw herself inside.

"Drive! Now! Get me out of here before—"

She stopped as she looked around the car. This wasn't Maya's rental car. This was a Bentley. Leather seats that probably cost more than her college tuition. A partition between the front and back seats. And most importantly, a man sitting in the corner of the backseat, phone pressed to his ear, dark eyes studying her like she was an interesting insect.

He was nothing like Marcus. Where Marcus was soft and pretty, this man has hard edges and dangerous angles, he looks older. Black hair mixed with a nit white pushed back from a face that looked carved from granite. A scar running from his left temple to his jawline. Broad shoulders filling out an expensive black suit.

"I'll call you back," he said into the phone, his voice deep and rough like whiskey and smoke. He ended the call without breaking eye contact with her.

"Drive now!" Scarlett snapped at the driver, her heart racing, she didn't care who the man beside her was. All she wanted was to get away from here, maybe Maya had changed her mind about renting a sedan and instead rented this one and maya had put this man beside her as her bodyguard, "Didn't my friend brief you? You were supposed to be ready and drive away the second I got in this car!"

The driver, a mountain of a man with graying hair, looked in the rearview mirror at his boss. Waiting.

"I'm going to ask Maya to fire all of you if you don't move this car right now!" Scarlett's hand shot out and slapped the man beside her across the shoulder. "What kind of operation are you people running? Or is this some kind of sick joke?"

The man's head turned slowly. His dark eyes fixed on the hand she'd hit him with, then his eyes slowly traveled up to her face. When he smiled, it wasn't a friendly smile.

"Fire us?" His voice was soft, deadly soft. "Interesting."

"Yes, fire you. Maya paid you good money to get me out of here, and you're just sitting there like—" She stopped. Something was very wrong. This man didn't look like any bodyguard Maya would hire. He looked like he could buy and sell Maya's entire family without blinking.

"David," the man said, still staring at Scarlett. "Drive."

"Where to, Mr. Blackwood?" the driver asked.

"Home."

"Wait." Scarlett's blood went cold as realization caught up to her ‘Mr. Blackwood?’ ‘Home’ and not the airport. She was trying to remember where she had heard that name from, "This isn't my car, right?"

"No," the man said, settling back in his seat like he had all the time in the world. "It isn't."

"Let me out. Right now, I am going to be late for my flight. I am sorry for barging in and for slapping you."

"I don't think so."

She lunged for the door handle. It was locked. The window buttons didn't work either. Her breath came faster. "You can't just kidnap me in broad daylight too!"

"Kidnap?" He laughed, and the sound sent chills down her spine. "Sweetheart, you got into my car, you hit me and demanded I drive you somewhere. If anything, you kidnapped yourself."

"This is a mistake, I swear. You need to let me out. My friend—"

"Your friend isn't here. From your dress and the way you ran inside my car, your wedding is ruined. Your family and the man you left at the altar family is probably planning your funeral right about now." He leaned forward, and she caught his scent, expensive cologne mixed with something darker. Yep, it smells dangerous. "Tell me, what exactly was your plan after you ran away? Hide in some cheap motel until your daddy's money runs out? Or run out of this country?"

"That's none of your business."

"It is now." The car turned through massive iron gates. "You wanted to escape your old life? Congratulations sweetheart. You just found yourself a new one."

Through the window, Scarlett saw a mansion rising from perfectly tiled grounds. It was beautiful in the way a mausoleum was beautiful, cold, imposing, built to last forever. The kind of place where people disappeared and were never seen again.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

"Damien Blackwood." He said it like she should know the name. Like everyone should know the name. "And you, runaway bride, just became my problem."

The car stopped in front of the mansion's entrance. But Damien made no move of getting out of the car yet. He just sat there, studying her like he was deciding what to do with her.

"Here's what's going to happen," he said finally. "You're going to get out of this car. You're going to walk into my house. And you're going to sit down while I figure out what to do with a woman foolish enough to slap me and think she could get away with it."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"You don't have a choice." His smile was all teeth and no warmth. "Welcome to your new life, sweetheart. I hope you're ready for it, because unlike your little boy toy back there you ran away from, I don't ask nicely."

The door opened from the outside. Damien stepped out and turned back to her, extending his hand like a gentleman. But there was nothing gentle about the look in his eyes.

"Come along, sweetheart. We have so much to discuss."

Scarlett stared at his outstretched hand, then at the mansion looming behind him, then at the iron gates that had already closed behind them. She had entered the wrong car of a mad man. The church was miles away. Her phone was back in the bridal suite.

She was completely, utterly alone with an insane man. What is she going to do?