CHAPTER TWO
KYRA
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I feel like I’m just a prop in this wedding as I stare at all the sample fabrics the wedding planners have laid out on the table.
In some ways, I am.
I’m the bride in this charade, as I call it, but I may as well just be a table ornament.
All my life I knew I’d be married to a man of my parents choosing. But never did I think he’d be thirty-something years older than me. Or a man who watches me like a predator. Like I’m a juicy steak dinner being prepared for him.
Which I am.
Ugh.
Pierce Sterling—CEO of Sterling Enterprises.
Aka old gross dude.
Not that I’ve said that out loud. I’ve been raised to be compliant and do what I’m told.
My father is the CEO of Fox & Co., and I’m grateful for the life his success has granted us. I’m proud of what he’s achieved.
But in this day and age, I do not understand why a marriage to a business partner is necessary. I have harbored a hope that I might love, or at least strongly like, the man they chose for me.
It’s not like there is a lack of nice men in the circles my father socializes in.
Well, it’s too late now. The announcement has been made, and the world thinks I am marrying Pierce Sterling.
I am.
My stomach lurches again.
I’ve tried to speak to my mother about it, but she said we can’t change what has been agreed upon between the two men.
What about what I want?
It never factored into the decision. I stood in front of my father, tears pouring down my face, as he announced my fate to me six short weeks ago. Thankfully, he chose to tell me in private as I almost collapsed to the ground.
My pleading eyes shot to my mother, who looked away.
“Mom?” I reached out and grabbed the back of the chair to steady myself as we stood in Dad’s office.
“Kyra, contain yourself. You know this is your duty. We’ve made no secret that one day you would marry to protect this family.”
Protect?
I don’t know what that means anymore.
We have more money than ninety-five percent of the population and rub shoulders with people who are extremely powerful.
“I thought it might be to someone my own age.” I wiped the tears from my cheek. “Or at least close.”
Dad’s eyes dipped momentarily. It was the first time I’d seen a hint that he might be regretful. But it soon vanished.
“Yes. Well, no.” He’d lifted his eyes, and they had hardened once more. “This marriage must take place. There are no more discussion to be had.”
As the shock began to fade, anger replaced it.
“No. I won’t do this.” I’d stepped back, as if I could run away from this.
But the reality was, I couldn’t.
I’d been homeschooled, and my education was limited. The focus, as if I was some eighteenth-century daughter, was on cooking, keeping a household, and other similar duties.
At twenty-two, I had no work experience. No degree. No tangible skills to earn money.
I had no money.
Everything was paid for by my father or supplied for me.
The feeling of being controlled and trapped made me feel like I couldn’t breathe some days. Perhaps that’s why I’ve suffered from asthma all my life.
My chest tightened as I’d kept walking backward and my mother reached for me.
“Kyra. Relax. Come on, calm down.”
My hand flew to my chest as I felt an attack coming on. My lungs tried to pull in gasps of air. The world around me turned into chaos as my mother screamed for our staff to bring an inhaler and my father cursed, rounding his large oak desk.
“Breathe Kyra. For god’s sakes. You cannot act out like this every time you don’t like a decision I make.” He growled.
Act out?
Our housekeeper had run into the room and dropped to the floor, pushing the plastic device to my mouth.
I grappled with it and pressed down, sucking in the medicine. Then again.
My lungs had worked hard, my chest beating like crazy as I struggled to accept the changes about to take place.
I was getting married.
To a man older than my father.
Not quite a child bride, but it was close enough and still revolting.
“Take care of this, Sally,” Dad said, and my mother assured him she would.
Now, two weeks on, all I feel is numb. I’ve cried a million tears and screamed into my pillow.
I tried to come up with a plan to run away and hit a dozen brick walls. I’ve even sought out people to help me get out of this situation.
“Just marry him and then get divorced,” Penny, my best friend, advised. “Make him think you’re into him, get your hands on his money, and then leave.”
As if it’s that simple.
I had a feeling the prenuptial agreement I signed gave away any lingering rights I had left. Of course, when I asked for time to review it, I was chastised.
In front of my future husband.
Who wasted no time showing me exactly how things were going to be when I married him.
“Do you plan to be difficult while we are married, Kyra? I hope not. Derek? I thought you had this covered,” Pierce said, shooting a dark look toward my father.
“She won’t,” my father had replied firmly, glaring at me.
“I can’t sign something I haven’t read. I have rights,” I whispered, glancing at my mother for support.
I don’t know why I bothered. She’s never spoken up for me before. Deep down, I was still hoping she would.
In private, she has explained how essential it is I do as my father tells me. That he knows what is best for our family and the future of Fox & Co.
“Who you marry is important, darling. Your grandparents worked hard to create the fortune that we enjoy, and your father continues to ensure the Fox name is held in high esteem,” Mom said.
My father inherited the nationwide accounting firm from my grandfather, and during the early 2000s, it began to thrive, becoming a Fortune 500 company. Our name is on skyscrapers in New York and on buildings in Los Angeles, Chicago, Atlanta, and Orlando.
I’m good with numbers. I think I would’ve contributed far more by working in the business. If I was a boy, would they have educated me more?
It saddens me to think so, but I know I’m right.
I asked my father a few years ago, and he slapped me. I took it as a yes.
The bruise was visible for a week.
“You’re lucky you’re homeschooled. I wouldn’t want to explain that to anyone.” Dad growled as I held my palm against my cheek. “Never ask me that again.”
I didn’t need to.
I had my answer.
The teen years were the hardest. I barely socialized, and who I hung out with was closely monitored. I met Penny at ballet class, which I’d fought to attend when I was little.
I’d fortunately excelled at it, and when I overheard my mother saying to my father that the other moms were all talking about how talented I was, he muttered that I could keep going.
Penny and I hit it off immediately and each year got closer and closer. She was one of my only true friends. Her family is also wealthy, so I suppose my father approved of her.
Unlike me, she has an optimistic view of life.
She’s kept me sane more times than I can count.
“What if I don’t get access to money and end up stuck married to him forever?” I’d asked her, curling my feet under my bottom on the sofa.
Penny frowned. “That’s illegal. You can’t force someone to stay married to you.”
I had a feeling Pierce Sterling could.
The only benefit being that I would outlive him. By decades.
“Anyway, pretending I like him would involve sex. And...” I had swallowed down my revolt.
Even Penny had cringed.
“Just close your eyes and pretend you’re shopping or something.”
Dropping my head into my hands, I’d moaned. “It’s rape. I don’t want to marry him.”
That’s when she had hugged me.
“I wish I could do something.”
“Help me run away.” I’d lifted my face, pleading pathetically. “What about Chad’s place in the Hamptons? I could go there and hide for a few weeks.”
Chad was her cousin.
“I’m not sure...”
“Please ask him, Penny.” I’d begged.
“Wouldn’t that be breaking some law?” Penny had asked.
“No. How? I’m an adult. I can say no to my own wedding.” I think. “All he needs to do is pick me up. I’ll sneak out and then figure out the next steps.”
She pressed her lips together. “Pierce is a powerful man, Kyra. Chad might not agree. And how are you going to pay for things?”
“I’ll get a job.” I could cook. I’d work in a diner if I had to.
“Kyra, I don’t know...”
“Just ask him. Please.” I grabbed her arm.
That was last week, and she still hasn’t come back to me.
Chad is five years older than us and lives by himself. I know he has space, and if I take some of my jewelry, I could pawn it for cash. I’ve even considered taking some of my mother’s.
I have to do something.
“Well, I think I have enough information for now.” The wedding planner closes her laptop and collects the samples in front of her.
“Wonderful.” My mother pushes her chair out and stands.
I do the same.
Then Pierce follows, adjusting his blue tie as he walks around the table to join me.
A creepy shiver runs through my body.
My father slowly pushes his chair out, watching us, and nods at Pierce. “Sally, let’s walk them out.”
Mom smiles and leads the wedding planner out of the room, with my father trailing behind them.
What is happening?
Next second, I find out. Pierce moves fast, dipping his mouth to my neck, leaving a wet kiss.
As my stomach lurches, I jump and grab his arm. “Oh, my god!”
He tugs me against his body. I feel his hard manhood and almost gag.
“It was about time I got to touch you.” Pierce growls. “I will grant you these last few weeks but just know, Kyra, that on our wedding night, I will be deep inside your virginal pussy. Fucking it.”
Um, what?
“And you’ll enjoy it.” He adds as his hand presses between my legs.
Shaking, I only just keep from telling him he’s wrong on both counts. I will not enjoy it. And I’m not a virgin.
“Tell me, Kyra, will you suck my cock and swallow my come?”
Never.
I turn my face away. “Please, Mr. Sterling.”
“You will call me Pierce. You are my fiancé, soon to be my wife.”
We were just over a week away from the wedding. My nightmare.
Suddenly, I can’t stop the flow of my words.
“What do you expect of me? We have nothing in common. You’re decades older than me. How is this going to work?” I try to pull out of his arms, but he holds me firmly. Then laughs, sticking his tongue in my ear.
Ugh, gross.
“Whatever I want. You’ll attend events with me, show the world you’re a happy and dutiful wife, and let me fuck you whenever I want.”
My eyes dip to the floor as my heart sinks. This is worse than I thought. Pierce is cruel and doesn’t see me as a young woman with my life ahead of me. In his eyes, and in my parents’ viewpoint, I am his to maneuver and use for his benefit.
“You can’t force me. I have rights,” I argue.
His teeth bare as he grabs my chin and forces his lips to mine.
“Keep up this attitude and I might even demand you give me more children from this cunt of yours.”
He has children?
As my eyes widen, Pierce releases me, drags his fingers over my breast, fondling my cotton covered nipple until it hardens.
“Good. Your body already reacts to me. You will enjoy our fucking. Whether you want to or not.”
God, please save me from this torture.
Tears fight for dominance against the nausea rising in the back of my throat, but Pierce simply smirks and walks away.
When I’m alone, I let out a short, guttural noise as I fall back down into the chair. I cannot marry this man my parents are forcing on me. I think I’d rather die.
Little do I know, I'm about to meet his son.