Chapter 1 #2
Slowly, I nodded with understanding. I didn’t say anything because I was afraid that my emotion would show in my voice and I wouldn’t be able to hide my fear.
He narrowed his eyes at me one last time and finally released me, acknowledging that I had backed down.
My fingers rubbed at the skin of my throat, trying to force away the feeling of my own father’s cruel hands against me.
I sniffed back my emotion, storing it away so that I could do what was expected of me.
In silence, I sat back down at the table and stared at the mini cakes set before me.
I glanced at my mother once, seeing the way she had her hands clenched desperately together, so much so that her knuckles had turned white.
She was shaking. I turned my eyes back to the samples because it was too much for me to bear.
She would never help me stand up against him and I let go of that improbable hope once and for all.
I would need to think of something else.
My father cleared his throat once more.
“Go get Mrs. Clement for us now, Stella,” he said to my mother.
She rushed out of the room, almost like she couldn’t wait to get away from us.
I stared at the door after she left and the hair on the back of my neck rose as his hand pressed against my left shoulder.
I waited for him to hit me, but the blow never came.
“Keri, I mean what I said,” my father said coldly. There was zero emotion in his words. I was simply a business transaction for him now.
“I know,” I whispered.
“Family is important to me, but I don’t tolerate disobedience. Never forget that,” he said harshly.
“Yes, Father,” I spat, playing the part of a dutiful daughter the best that I could.
The door opened again, and the elderly baker returned.
She smiled, but her face was tight as she gazed back at me and my father.
He removed his hand from me, and she tried not to show that she noticed, but I saw it anyway in the way her breath caught in her throat.
At least someone here was concerned for me.
“Have you decided on a cake?” she asked, her voice exceedingly strained. I chewed on the inside of my cheek for a moment, before I finally forced myself to answer.
“What’s the most expensive one?” I pressed, lifting my eyes to face hers.
“The lemon cake with the raspberry frosting. I use only the best organic fruit in the making of that one,” she answered plainly. Her gaze shifted from mine to my father’s and back. I lifted my chin, refusing to let my emotions show.
“Then I’ll take that one. We can afford it,” I replied. I saw my father grimace just a touch beside me, but it didn’t matter. If he wanted to sell me off like a prized horse, he was going to have to pay for it.
* * *
The rest of the day dragged by. The fitting went as per usual with the seamstress poking me with one needle after the next.
The best part of the whole thing was that my parents had to sit outside the dressing room until it was over, so I had at least two hours of blessed peace other than the woman rambling on and on about how pretty a bride I was going to be.
I mostly tuned her out, thanking her periodically so I didn’t hurt her feelings.
When it was over, my parents and I returned home.
I disappeared into my room once we arrived.
I spent about an hour listening to music before dinner was brought to my room.
It was small, a caprese salad as well as a limited selection of meats and cheeses, but I enjoyed every last bite as I tried to figure out what I was going to do.
After I was finished, I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop.
For the much-needed distraction, I clicked to my favorite gossip blog, escaping into the lives of celebrities gone wild, and when I began to scroll I came across a familiar name that had always been a quiet source of fascination for me. I paused, staring at the headline just beneath his picture.
Jaxon Blackwood.
He was a name that had gaining increasing attention over the years.
He was a very rich man who had inherited a great deal of money but had used his knowledge to increase that original amount at least a hundred times over through a number of wise investments, business deals as well as his own software corporation.
I never really paid attention to the details of his professional affairs though; I was more interested in the gossip train that surrounded him.
Sugar Daddy or Devoted Boyfriend
I gazed at his picture and found myself lost in those deep brown eyes for a moment.
He was a good-looking man. Really good looking.
The kind of man who plagued your dreams at night and left you feeling wet and needy when you woke up in the morning.
In his early thirties, he was devilishly handsome.
With dark hair and a dark well-trimmed beard, he looked like the type of man who liked to be in control.
More important, though, he looked like the type of man who could take care of a woman.
Rumor was that he liked things like that.
Some of my favorite blog entries talked about his relationships with women, that he liked being a sort of sugar daddy for them.
He dated a range of women with all sorts of incomes, but there was one common theme to all the threads that talked about the breakups.
He liked when a girl was naughty and liked to deal with it in the bedroom.
Earlier this year, I’d had the opportunity to meet him once and he was every bit as handsome as his picture.
He was kind and when I’d stumbled in my heels when I’d walked by him, he’d been the one to catch my arm and steady me.
I remember the moment his eyes had met mine, full of concern and something else.
We’d only exchanged a few words, but I’d remember them forever.
“Are you alright, little girl?”
“Yes. Thank you, sir.”
“Perhaps a shorter pair of heels next time.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“See that you do.”
His returning smile had made my mind go to places where it most definitely shouldn’t have that night.
I’d fantasized about him ever since.
My hand faltered as an idea suddenly came over me.
Jaxon Blackwood was a man with money and means. Maybe he could help me. There were plenty of rumors through the grapevine that he was something of a powerhouse himself. I’d heard his name mentioned many times in the Esposito inner circle and even outside of it.
Perhaps he could rival my father and stop this awful arranged marriage from ever happening in the first place.
In seconds, a plan began to formulate in my mind.
I glanced outside my window. It was past seven o’clock and it already dark outside.
I pushed myself up from my desk and walked over to my bedroom door.
As quietly as I could, I turned the lock.
Then I grabbed my remote off the nightstand and switched on the television, turning it to one of my favorite movies so that if anyone walked by the room they’d think I was inside.
Without hesitation, I strode over to my window and opened it wide, looking out at the backyard.
My room was on the first floor of the house, which would make this easy.
This wasn’t the first time I’d snuck out of the house. I knew what I was doing.
I quietly sat on the window ledge and lowered myself to the garden beneath it.
I was dressed in jeans and a dusky gray sweater, which would be hard to see in the growing darkness.
I followed the line of the house, making sure to dip below each window until I reached the back corner where the fence line was closest to the building.
I glanced up and made sure no one was watching before I made a mad dash for the entryway to the side garden.
Once I was safe from prying eyes, I climbed over the much shorter five-foot brick fence using a nearby tree in order to make my escape.
Once I was free of my family home, I walked hurriedly down the street and called my best friend Ashleigh.
Her mom was a world-famous designer and now she was putting together her own line to show to the world.
Her name was featured on many of the gossip blogs too, but I knew the real her and she knew the real me.
“I need to see Jaxon Blackwood,” I said as soon as she picked up the phone.
“Oh?” she asked curiously. “Are you finally brave enough to ask that hottie on a date?”
I could feel myself blushing at her words. This wasn’t the first time I’d talked about him.
“No,” I lied.
“Liar, liar. I know you just want to ride his face,” she accused me playfully.
“You know him, right?” I asked. This time I ignored her teasing, and she giggled quietly because of it. My face felt red hot as I waited for her to reply.
“He’s a friend of the family, yes,” she answered evasively. She was enjoying this maybe a bit too much.
“I need to see him tonight. I want to ask for his help,” I finally relented.
“The night before your big wedding, huh?” she said softly. “Getting cold feet and want to try out someone else before you’re trapped by the marriage ball and chain?”
“Maybe,” I muttered. “Do you think he’d be able to help me?” There wasn’t any doubt in my mind that she understood what I meant. We’d known each other since we were in diapers and had been attached at the hip ever since. She was the one person I could trust implicitly and her the same.
“Just tell him your story and he’ll take care of it for you. Tell you what. Why don’t I come get and bring you to Jaxon? Meet you at our favorite coffee shop?” she said quickly.
“Thanks, Ash. I would really appreciate it,” I replied, and she cleared her throat.
“A word of advice though. He won’t offer his help for free. Just know that,” she said.
“I get it. I won’t forget this,” I offered.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” she said softly. I could tell she was worried about me and I chewed my lip.