Chapter 3: Marry Me, Oh Foe

Eve Peron's POV 

“What the fuck?” I say as I arrive at the Peron Estate.

The Peron Estate is quiet—too quiet. Guards flank the grand doors, their eyes lowered respectfully, nodding in recognition as I drive in and park in my designated area.

The car park is filled with cars I recognize. The members of the CRADS Council of the Westside are present.

“Wow… what’s going on?” I say aloud.

I feel my phone vibrate. I check the screen and see Catherine’s name flashing—she’s requesting a video call.

I’m surprised she’s calling me. After her outburst before I left the office, I thought I would be needing a new personal assistant, and such a lovely one at that.

My face colors red as I remember her mouth on my cunt, eating it. My cunt throbs as if it has a heart of its own as I recall the way she licked and sucked me.

Sincerely, it was the best sex I’d had in a long time. Dowell was boring in bed. He wasn’t adventurous. He felt sex was best done on the mattress in the bedroom. We never had quickies. Sex nights were calculated and planned. I had tried many times to add some fun to our sex life, but Dowell was never up for all that shit.

I type into the chat box: “I am walking into my meeting now. Can I call you later?”

She doesn’t respond, and I don’t see her typing a reply, so I walk into the mansion.

Inside, the scent of polished oak and power fills the air. The walls are lined with portraits of my ancestors, whose blood flows through my veins. I know all their names by heart—their achievements and their failings. Some I learned sitting at dinner tables and business meetings with my dad; others I learned from the voluminous history books in the library.

When I enter the council room, I see my father seated at the head of a long mahogany table, his long silver hair tied back with a ribbon. He wears a tiny diamond stud in his left ear. I recognize the look of guilt in his eyes. It’s not every day you see my father, the patriarch of the Peron House, looking guilty.

Ten others are seated around him—the members of the CRADS Pack Council. They are made up of the oldest and wealthiest Mafia families on the Westside of Glassfield. Their faces are carved with age, cunning, and years of trying to dominate their domain. They’ve done a great job of it.

“Sit down, Eve,” he says. His voice is steady, but I know he’s shaken.

A message enters my phone. I know it’s Catherine. I want to answer it, but I can’t do it standing.

“What’s this about?” I ask, taking my seat.

Elder Marcellus speaks first after clearing his throat. “You’ve been summoned, Eve.”

I notice he looks the way he did the evening he walked in on me and Chris—his son and heir—in his study: my ass up, my cunt exposed, my hands gripping his desk while Chris pounded me from behind with his dick the size of a large cucumber.

I frown. “By who?”

“The Klein Court.”

The words drop like stones into my chest. I laugh heartily. “That’s rich. What could they possibly want with me? What have I done this time? Why is this even an issue? Why are we even talking about this?”

My father meets my eyes. “They want peace.”

“Peace?” I repeat incredulously. “Hmmm… how convenient. Many have died in this war. What happened to fighting and winning?”

“It’s not about conscience,” Marcellus says. “It’s about survival. The whole of Westhaven is watching. The mayor is tired of the warring. They want to prosecute your father and Lucien Klein if it doesn’t stop. They have a lot of evidence against us, Eve. There have been too many disappearances and too many unexplained deaths. They’re starting to notice.”

I glance at my phone and see the message is a video. I reduce the volume and wait for it to upload.

“So?” I say sharply. “Let them notice. We’ve got connections beyond Westhaven.”

It uploads, and I see Catherine in her full glory—naked, no panties or bra—sitting on my chair. My office has never looked so good. I wish I were right there. I would fuck her on the chair, pumping my fingers into her cunt and making her come.

I watch her cup her large breasts. I swallow as she lifts the left one with her hand and strokes her nipple.

Wow… my cunt gets wet with cum.

“Eve,” my father cuts into my thoughts. “This isn’t a choice. The Council has drafted a peace treaty. It must be signed by both sides.”

My chest tightens. “What’s stopping you from signing?”

“The Kleins requested you.”

I blink. “Me?”

“Eve,” my father says, his tone heavy.

“It’s not a request,” Marcellus—my father’s best friend and ally—adds.

I look down to see Catherine sucking her nipple, licking and stroking it until it glistens with saliva.

I want to moan, but I can’t. If I did, these old men would die of strokes.

“So we bend to the Kleins now? We let them dictate peace after years of blood and conspiracies? We’re all playing the good guys now?”

My father’s voice hardens. “You think I want this? You think I’d sell my daughter’s pride to the very people who murdered my wife and sons?”

“Then don’t!” I snap. “Tell them no.”

Ewing slams his hand against the table. “It’s not that simple!”

The room falls silent. I stare at him, stunned. My father has never raised his voice at me.

I look back at my phone. Catherine’s cunt fills the camera, spread open. One hand rubs her clit; the other grips a large vibrator. I watch her dip it inside herself and pull it out, coated in her cum. She licks it and smiles at me.

I smile back. My hands itch to stroke my breasts, to touch myself, but I pause the video and look up.

I see my father draw a slow breath, his shoulders sagging under an invisible weight. “They’ve proposed a marriage, Eve—as a binding alliance.”

The words hit me like a foul stench. “A marriage?” I repeat disbelievingly. “With who?”

“Ronan Klein… son of Lord Lucien Klein.”