Chapter 3–Don’t Mess This Up

Natasha’s POV

“Hell fucking no! You can’t be serious,” I said. “You really expect me to marry Tristan Castillo? The same Tristan who was rumored to have killed his own parents?”

I laughed after I said that, because the whole thing sounded like a bad joke.

My father didn’t react immediately. He just looked at me across the table, waiting for me to calm down.

“Besides, why would he want me? Tristan Castillo could marry anyone he wants. So why me?” I asked the only question that mattered.

My father sighed and leaned back into his chair, looking older than I’d ever seen him.

“Because men like Tristan Castillo don’t just do things for no reason,” he said. “If he wants something, he has already thought it through.”

I rubbed my palm against my face. “That didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know, Natasha. He asked for you specifically,” he said, already frustrated.

That made me frown. “Me? What could he possibly want from me?”

“You tell me, Natasha. What does he want from you?” he asked. “You’re a notorious rebel, so what did you do?”

“I haven’t even seen that man before.”

My expression hardened. “Why not Victoria?”

“Well, he didn’t say one of my daughters,” he continued. “He said he wants my youngest daughter, Natasha.”

“Victoria would have been a better choice in my opinion.” I scoffed.

“And what does that mean?” his voice rising.

“She’s older. She’s the perfect daughter, right? She’s never been rebellious. She’s always been more involved in the company,” I didn’t stop. “If he wants a wife for whatever twisted reason, why drag me into this?”

“That’s enough, Natasha!” My father said sharply.

“No, it’s not enough!” I shot back. “You didn’t even think twice, did you? The moment he said he’d save the company, you agreed to hand me over like I’m some sort of business deal.”

“I’m trying to save this family!”

“And I’m your daughter, not an asset!” I shouted.

The room fell into silence for a moment, both of us breathing heavily.

I looked away first. My thoughts drifted to the one person whose absence still aches in moments like these. “I guess I see why mom left.”

The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I’d gone too far.

My father’s face hardened instantly. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

“I understand enough,” I replied. “I understand that if she were here, she would never have agreed to this. She would have fought tooth and nail to avoid things like this.”

“I SAID THAT’S ENOUGH!” My father’s voice thundered through the office as he slammed his hand on the table.

I didn’t flinch. I just looked at him, my eyes cold now.

“Do you think I want this?” he asked, his tone sharp. “You think I enjoy asking my daughter to sacrifice herself? I tried Natasha, I did. But nothing worked out. This is the only option. I’m doing what I have to do to keep this family and company from collapsing.”

“Do you know what you’re asking me to do, Dad?” I asked. “You’re asking me to sell myself!”

My eyes filled with tears.

“What about what I want?" I continued. "Did you ever stop to think about me? I’m still grieving Lucas’ death, and now you want me to smile and accept a man who I have no feelings for, or never even met.”

“Lucas is gone. Dead. And he’s not coming back. You have to accept that and move on with your life,” my father said, his face unreadable. “I’m not asking you to smile. I’m asking you to help save what’s left.”

Tears streamed down my cheeks. I wondered if this man even loved me at all.

After a long silence, I finally spoke, wiping my tears.

“Fine, I want to meet him.”

My father frowned. “What?”

“If Tristan Castillo wants to marry me, then I want to hear it from him myself. I want him to tell me why he wants to marry me out of all the women he could have in this world, why he chose me.”

My father studied me briefly..

“What? There has to be a reason,” I said. “He can’t just wake up and decide ‘Oh, I’m in the mood to get married, and not just to any woman—but Natasha Whitmore.’”

My father sighed, nodding his head.

“Okay then, I’ll arrange a meeting.”

“And please, Natasha, don’t mess this up for me—for us.”

I swallowed, not sure why my heart had suddenly started beating fast.

I stormed out of the office without another word, thinking about the things I would say to Tristan fucking Castillo.

Hours later, I’d received a call from my father, telling me Tristan was ready to see me that evening.

A car pulled up at our house just as the sky darkened.

I got dressed in a pink halter neck sequined dress, which had a high slit that ran up my thigh. The dress was deliberate. If I was going to meet the man who thought he could buy me with a business deal, I wasn’t going to show up looking like a victim.

I let my hair fall loose, soft waves framing my face. Minimal jewelry. Just enough to match the heels I had put on.

The driver held the door open for me.

“Miss Whitmore.”

I slipped into the car without saying a word.

The drive felt endless.

The driver didn’t speak, and neither did I.

The city lights blurred past the tinted windows as my thoughts circled the same question. Why me?

I thought about my father. I had never seen him this desperate. Maybe the situation was beyond him.

I sighed. “What have you gotten us into, Marcus?”

The car slowed before finally coming to a halt.

“We’re here,” the driver said. He stepped out to open my door.

I stepped out of the car. “Thank you.”

My heels clicked softly against the ground.

The night air was cooler here, with a soft breeze against my skin. Ahead, a yacht sat quietly against the water, lights glowing against the dark surface. It was larger than I expected and far too private for my liking.

I walked forward without hesitation.

The moment I stepped onto the deck, I noticed how quiet it was.

No crowd. Just the soft sound of water and the distant hum of the city behind me.

Then I saw a man standing near the edge, his back to me.

Dark suit. Broad shoulders. Completely still, like he had all the time in the world.

Something about the way he stood made me think he was Tristan Castillo.

“You have a strange way of inviting people,” I said as I walked in further.

“And yet, you’re here,” he replied evenly.

That voice… It was calm, almost familiar.

Something about it tugged at my memory.

Before I could place it, he finally turned.

A pair of familiar grey eyes met mine.

Everything clicked.

He was the same man from the club.

The same man who had gotten under my skin without trying.

I blinked once, then let out a short breath.

“Well… fuck me,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He studied me briefly. Then, a slow, deliberate smile curved his lips. He took a step toward me, unbothered and confident.

“You want us to do that right now, cariño?”