Chapter 2: The Meeting

A sleek black car rolled to a stop just a few steps away, and as the door opened, polished leather shoes caught her eye, forcing her gaze upward.

Her breath hitched as a tall, commanding man stepped out, broad shoulders filling a black blazer, crisp shirt paired with matching pants, and a deep maroon tie that cut through the air like a warning.

She tried to look away, but the sharp sweep of his hair, the hard cut of his jawline, and the scar near the bridge of his left cheek held her in place as if time had stopped to watch him.

For a heartbeat, she forgot to breathe, until the blare of a horn snapped her back. Oh, that damn! She turned her head, meeting strangers’ curious, judging eyes.

The guard who brought her stepped forward and bowed to him, speaking briefly with ease. The tension between them was palpable, like electricity dancing across a wire, and she couldn’t stop watching.

God, why am I staring? I shouldn’t even be here. She stepped forward, skirting their evaluating glances, pressed her back against the car, and lowered her gaze.

She folded her arms, trying to shrink as her heart pounded, when the man’s eyes flicked toward her as the guard moved back.

“Ma’am, let’s go. The boss has arrived,” he said, voice calm yet taut with authority.

Her knees trembled as she lifted her gaze. “Who… who is he? Is he…?” she whispered, dread coiling in her chest.

“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Evan Grant, our king,” the guard replied. What. This is that evil I’ve been defying.

Her gaze locked on him, dark and unreadable, every glance slicing through her defenses, until he looked away. She followed, compelled by a force she couldn’t name.

They stopped beside him, and as she studied his face, it felt forbidden, the three moles on his right cheek scattered like stars, the one beneath his lip shifting with every blink, drawing her eyes again and again.

His beauty wasn’t gentle. It burned, magnetic and dangerous, a fire that promised both allure and pain to anyone who lingered too long.

“Hello, Mr. Evan Grant. It’s nice to meet you.” She forced the words out, voice soft and tight with nerves.

He lifted his head, dark, glossy eyes measuring her as if weighing her soul. “I’ll make sure it is,” he murmured, lips curving into a faint, predatory smirk before moving ahead. “Let’s go now.”

Hotel Room

She hesitated beside the chair, waiting for him to sit first, but he dropped in carelessly, offering no invitation, and placed his keys and phone on the table.

A knot tightened in her stomach as she didn’t like being ignored.

She lowered herself slowly, set her purse down, forced a calm she didn’t feel, and passed a pale, signature smile.

Two hours later

He typed on his phone with precise calm while she watched, patience fraying, heart hammering as each movement made her pulse spike.

His presence pressed down, making her feel small, almost like a trembling pup, and every glance, every subtle motion reminded her of her father’s words: resistance was meaningless.

Then his fist slammed the table. The sound cracked like gunfire. Her chest jolted, breath caught, a glass toppled, red wine spreading across the white cloth. He didn’t flinch. His eyes remained locked on her, dark and merciless.

Every instinct screamed to shrink, to look away, but she couldn’t. The air thickened, suffocating, stretching every second unbearably.

“I think your mind is already mine,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Even in your nightmares, even in your dreams, you’ll think of nothing but me.”

Her muscles tightened. She remembered her nightmares about him violating her; the way his words now felt like a personal attack clawed at her skin, but she forced herself to ignore the feeling.

She wanted to strike, to shatter that perfect jaw and tear at those white teeth that gleamed like moonlight, but froze as he arose, scraping his chair away and circling her slowly, each step sending shivers down her spine.

His hot breath brushed her neck, sending jolts through her bones, as he whispered against her ear, “Even if you run, I’ll drag you back. Even if you hate me, I’ll make you beg. There’s no version of your life without me in it.”

Her lungs seized. Her hands quivered. She tried to stay calm, but he leaned closer, fingers brushing her hand just enough to make her skin tingle, possessive and assertive.

“You think you can hide it from me? Every tremble, every breath, every smile, every tear, every fear, every nervous twitch, all of it belongs to me.”

He straightened, calm again, as if the storm hadn’t passed. “Come,” he commanded, extending his hand. “Accept it. That is reality.”

She didn’t speak. Her soul felt heavy with silence. She lifted her head, tear-filled eyes locked on him. He smirked, low and sharp, a predator in human form.

Slowly, she placed her trembling hand in his large palm. A spark ran through her as he rubbed gently, asserting a quiet dominance that made her pulse spike.

He lifted her up, and she silently gathered her purse, letting him guide her along the path.

They moved through the hotel lobby, his grip unwavering, tension thick, until they reached the parking area.

“Won’t you say goodbye to your soon-to-be husband?”

A playful smirk in his voice as she moved toward the car, about to open the door, but she stopped at his words.

She didn’t turn to face him. He stopped by her left side, taking in her profile as she huffed and looked away.

“Goodbye… Mr. Evan Grant.” Her voice dripped with bitterness.

He chuckled, low and dark, curling through her like smoke. “Spit my name all you want. It still drips sweet from your lips. Don’t worry, you’ll learn soon enough how to speak to your husband.”

************

The ride home passed in heavy silence. The familiar streets and house felt altered, heavy and foreign, until she bolted to her room, slamming the lock.

Her purse thudded to the bed as she sank to the edge, clutching the mattress, breath uneven, as her eyes roamed the room.

How dare he act like this, like he owns everything, like I’m nothing but an object to be claimed? Who does he think he is, thinking he can command me with that smirk, those eyes, that presence that makes my chest tighten?

She pressed her thighs together, nails digging into her skin through the blue jeans, heat flaring through her. I hate him. I hate him more than anything.

And Dad, how don’t you know him? You said he wouldn’t treat me like the others, then what was that, that cold look, that touch, that smirk? How is that not cruel?

She clenched her fists in her lap, muscles taut, frustration and fear coiling like fire through her arms.

How can anyone think this is love? I’m not a toy. I’m not his to command. I won’t bend, I won’t break, but why does it feel like I already have?

Pressing her palms over her face, she wiped away the unwelcome tears until a knock pulled her attention.

She waited a moment, then reached for the door, settling her hair and controlling her tears.

Alexa stood in the doorway as she opened it, smiling at first, but the smile vanished at the sight of Jenna’s tears.

“Jenna? You’re crying.” She stepped inside, closing the door behind her, brow twitching as she cupped her chin gently. “What happened?”

Jenna’s throat felt raw. She looked at Alexa before throwing her arms around her, breaking into muffled sobs.

“Did he do something to you?” Alexa asked worriedly, rubbing her back as Jenna clung to her like an anchor.

She eased her to the bed, pressing a glass of water into her hands. “Breathe, and tell me, why are you crying?”

“I met him, Alexa,” she whispered. “I can’t accept him. He’s dangerous. Every movement, every word… he has power over everything, even me. I feel trapped.”

Alexa looked into her eyes. “It’s more than fear. It’s like the air itself changes when he’s near. My chest feels tight, my mind… I can’t think straight.”

Tears streamed freely. “I didn’t just dislike him. I’m terrified. He’s consuming. I’m afraid I’ll get lost if I let him closer.”

Alexa stroked her hair, embracing her to offer comfort, bridging the small gap between them.

“Why is Dad forcing me into this?” she whispered, voice raw.

Alexa froze, thinking carefully before she spoke. She rubbed Jenna's hands with her thumb, taking a shaky breath.

“I overheard them discussing you, Jenna. I heard Dad tell Mom that Evan threatened him, said if Dad didn’t let him marry you, he’d kill him and take you by force.”

She swallowed hard, eyes darting nervously around the room, then whispered, “Dad… he wants to protect you, preserve your honor this way. But please, never let anyone know I told you this.”

She paused, letting the weight of her words hang in the air. “They wanted to keep it hidden from you, and don’t know I heard them.”

Jenna raised her head, silently watching, wrists still held under Alexa’s gentle grip.

Her chest burned with shame and frustration. She had believed her father was forcing her to marry Evan for his own gain, for a man she didn’t trust, yet now she sensed there was more behind his insistence, something she hadn’t understood before.

“Why didn’t he tell me before, Alexa?” Her voice cracked as she pressed her palms together.

“He didn’t want to crush you with the truth,” Alexa said gently. “He thought you’d accept without knowing everything. He didn’t know you would fight.”

Jenna’s eyes widened, the weight of reality hitting her like a punch. Words failed her as her father’s warning echoed in her mind.

“Dad said… it’s not about his life. He’s helpless because even if he gets killed, Evan would still take you. He… he wants to handle this with honor. Said… if you have to be taken away, it’s better to give in with pride.”

Silence stretched, pressing against her chest, each heartbeat a drum warning she couldn’t ignore.

Her father’s speechless face spun in her mind, a jolt from a week ago, as she remembered asking him why only him and accusing him, saying he had been forced upon me. The memory struck her like lightning, freezing her chest.

Alexa forced a small, careful smile and eased herself onto the bed. “Forget him for a moment. Tell me—what was on the menu? Did you eat anything?”

Jenna shook her head, biting her bottom lip. “No. Everything he ordered… it felt like it was designed to suffocate me. I only drank water.”

Alexa’s eyes widened, shock flickering across her face. “What? Jenna! You didn’t eat anything?” She knew Jenna had skipped lunch for the formal dinner, and now it was clear she hadn’t touched a thing since breakfast.

Jenna’s shoulders stiffened. “There wasn’t anything soft, anything gentle. That place… it wasn’t made for me. It was made for men like him, for the mafia.”

Alexa’s nostrils flared slightly. She reached out a hand, gentle but insistent. “Then let me fix something for you. Come on, let’s go to the kitchen.”

Jenna shook her head, eyes fixed on the floor. “No, Alexa. I can’t face Dad like this. If he sees me, it’ll break him. I’ve already broken him enough. I just want him calm, at ease.”

Alexa slid off the bed, stopping at the edge. Her hand hovered near Jenna for a moment, before letting it drop.

“Hey… it’s not your fault,” she said softly. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. Stay here. I’ll make noodles. If Dad asks, I’ll tell him you were too nervous to eat before… but now you’re hungry.”

Her small, fierce smile cut through the weight pressing on her, as she brushed a strand of hair from her cheek before leaving.