CHAPTER FOUR
STELLA
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The idea of hiring my own security came to me in the middle of the night after my father announced he was trading me to a man he owed.
Trading me for his life.
That was two weeks ago.
I don’t know if Dad was always planning to choose the man I married, or what he told me was true. My father lies; I know that. It’s no wonder, in hindsight, that he wanted me to remain in Manhattan.
Not that I’d planned to leave the city.
In many ways, he controlled my life via my trust fund and the purchase of the penthouse.
Despite brushing off Charlotte’s question the other night, I have no choice but to marry this man. To marry Tony Marino.
I refused initially. “No. No way. I can’t believe you’d even ask me to do this.”
“I’m not asking,” my father replied.
“Why?” I was shocked and not even sure why I asked that question, because the answer was still no. Pure and simple.
No fucking way.
“Stella, you need to go into your new family without knowing the details. I’m not telling you a thing,” Dad said as if this was a done deal.
My new family.
“Are you insane? I’m not marrying a stranger. There are laws against this sort of thing,” I’d gasped, feeling like I had walked into a wormhole or different reality.
But I knew my father.
I knew he was serious.
This wasn’t a joke and, sadly, I wasn’t in a drug-induced coma having a nightmare. It might have been a better option.
Dad had invited me into his den and closed the door. That rarely happened. He meant business, and I knew, somehow, that’s exactly what this was.
Business.
And I was his latest deal.
“These people are dangerous, Stella. You don’t understand—”
“I don’t understand? Oh my God. You just said he’s dangerous, and you want me to marry this man. Can you not hear yourself?” I felt sweat building in my armpits from fear. I had never fully trusted my father, and as it turns out, I was right not to.
Mom stood to the side of his desk, looking ashamed.
“There is no choice. It was either do this deal or one day I’ll be floating in the Hudson. Do you want that? Do you want to be responsible for my death, Stella? My own daughter. I can’t believe how selfish you’re being!”
My mouth fell open while I stood there, shocked and confused, but ironically seeing my family clearly for the first time. This deal was exchanging my life for his. He’d offered me in exchange for someone who wanted to kill him.
My own father.
“What did you do?” I whispered, covering my mouth.
Dad refused to look me in the eye as he shifted something on his desk. “I misjudged a situation, that’s all. And the people I was dealing with, they are unreasonable and won’t negotiate. Damn heathens. I was told I had to pay with my life or another’s.”
Mine.
My life.
Wait...did he mean? My eyes bulged. “As in kill someone?”
“No. As in hand over my daughter.” He looked at me as if I were stupid.
Everything came crashing down on me as I realized I couldn’t argue my way out of this. Nausea hit like lightning. I gagged.
Mom rushed around and rubbed my back. “She can’t do this, Victor. Go to the police. The CIA.”
He leaped to his feet, his face turning ruddy. “The authorities can’t know about this. And I’m not explaining myself anymore. Jesus, I can’t believe the two of you. Do you want to attend my funeral? I’d be returned to you in pieces inside a box.”
Tears rolled down my face, knowing he’d traded me to a man he was terrified of, to save his own life.
Mom clung to me, crying.
“Christ.” He shoved his hand into his graying hair. “Listen, I’ve thought this through. Stella only needs to stay married to him for a few years. Five at most. Then she can ask for a divorce.”
My eyes flew to Mom’s, waiting for her to tell him he was fucking insane.
“Victor.” She shook her head.
“They’ll kill me, Susan!”
“This isn’t fair, Dad. You can’t put this on me! How do you know this man won’t hurt me?”
Despite not wanting to marry a stranger, I did want to fall in love, get married, and have a family. Something I couldn’t do if I were manipulated into this sordid situation. Even for five years. I was in the prime of my life, and that was an eternity.
Hell, one day was unacceptable.
And who knows what sort of treatment I’d succumb to in this man’s home.
Would he expect a child?
Jesus.
That I’d even thought about it becoming a reality was crazy.
“Life isn’t fair. Five years is nothing to keep me alive. I would hope my life is worth something, Stella. I gave you life.”
As I met his eyes and caught a flicker of who he really was, I realized the man I called my father was incapable of loving me. That he would sell my soul to make money.
In some ways, that’s exactly what he was doing.
He never said how much money he owed, but I knew we had a lot. Hundreds of millions. So why wasn’t he paying the debt instead of offering me as payment?
Gag.
It was an answer he never gave.
Lying awake night after night since that meeting, I have begun to spiral out of control with fear. One thing was clear, and that was I needed my own independent security as quickly as possible.
Before I met Tony.
As far as everyone was concerned, I was marrying him. I hadn’t been able to tell my father to have a good swim in the Hudson and hope he got out of his mess alive.
He was right.
I couldn’t live with myself knowing I could have saved his life, as messed up as this all was.
Unless I can work out a way to get out of this mess, I will have to do it.
Or I risk my father being murdered.
Living with his blood on my conscience may be worse than living five years with Tony Marino. So, in some ways, I was prepared to meet him and see just how bad it would be.
At the age of thirty I could divorce and restart my life, and my children would have a grandfather.
Either way, I had made sure I was protected during any further interaction with him or my father. I didn’t trust either of them.
As for my mother, she had consoled me by saying, perhaps he’s right, honey. Five years feels like a long time at your age, but it really isn’t.
––––––––
A piece of my heart had crumbled, and I’d cried for hours when I got home, standing under the shower. Both of them had essentially told me my life was worth nothing.
The temptation to tell Charlotte so I could hear her tell me she cared and loved me was so strong. But keeping her safe and separate from all of this stopped me.
Instead, I’d done some research.
Tony Marino was fifteen years my senior, divorced, and looked cold as stone. He was linked with crimes, the worst kinds of crime families, and commonly referred to as The Blade.
The Blade.
I don’t have to be a creative fiction writer to connect the dots and work out how he got that name.
I had raced to the toilet and thrown up yet again. I was losing weight just from the worry.
The next day, I rang Barrett Security, who apologized for not having anyone available to help at short notice.
They gave me the Black Hawke Security details.
I was told it was owned by Navy SEAL Josh Hawke and that they were a professional organization with top former special forces who could provide me with the protection I needed.
“A Navy SEAL sounds good,” I told Josh after telling him I was meeting a man my family wanted me to marry and felt nervous. “Are you available?”
“I’m sorry; I’m based in Los Angeles, running the ship from here. But a former SEAL buddy is starting in our New York office, so your timing is good.”
Not really.
I wish I didn’t need a SEAL protecting me. I wish I didn’t have to marry some dangerous creep.
“I’ll send over the paperwork.”
Josh did as he promised, signed me up, and now Declan Sloan is standing in my penthouse.
He’s everything you’d expect a Navy SEAL to be.
Huge, solid-looking, extremely masculine with muscles everywhere.
Not that I’ve undressed him with my eyes—fine, I might have—but his size doesn’t leave much to the imagination.
Even if I can’t see them under his black blazer and dress pants, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got an eight-pack and one of those cut V’s that lead the eyes to another well-packed area of his body.
No doubt whatsoever.
His dark brown hair is ruffled, and his eyes are gray and piercing. Women must fall at his damn feet every day.
Attraction blasts through me, almost knocking me over, so I do the only thing I can: hold out my hand and pretend to be unaffected and professional.
“Stella Voss.”
“Declan Sloan.” His rich, deep voice fills the space around us as he takes my hand.
If I thought his body and presence had impacted me, it was nothing compared to the scorching heat of his touch.
Our eyes lock as I force down a swallow.
Holy heck.
Declan holds my hand for a moment too long, as if looking deep inside my mind, and it rattles me further.
My God.
I’ve never reacted like this to a man. I’m no wallflower and have a healthy confidence around men in general. I mean, New York is filled with successful, good-looking males.
Declan Sloan is on a whole other level.
Perhaps it has to do with him being a SEAL, but then again, I’ve had security all my life. A man in uniform has a job to do, and I’ve never romanticized that.
I study Declan’s eyes as I clench my core, fighting back the overwhelming desire that has clutched me.
Good Lord, being attracted to the man I’m paying to protect me is not what I need right now. Things are complicated enough.
I tug my hand free.
Whatever just happened, it ends now.
“Nice to meet you. Please come in.” I turn my back and walk further into the penthouse. “Would you like a drink? Juice, beer?”
He doesn’t answer.
When we reach the kitchen, I open the fridge and glance over my shoulder.
“Juice will be fine,” he rasps, and I notice he’s taking in every inch of my home.
Not me.
Good.
I pour two glasses of orange juice and put them on the marble island, then take a seat on one of the stools. Declan sits three stools along and pulls a tablet out of the satchel he’s carrying.
Good. We are both being very professional.
Although if he jumped me, I might just let him. We can work out the technicalities later.
No, Stella. No.
Declan takes a large sip of his drink, places it on the counter and carefully pushes it a distance away before finally focusing back on me.
I’m mesmerized.
“So, I understand congratulations are in order.”
No, they are not.
All my lust vanishes.
“Thank you.” I keep my expression neutral.
However, Declan needs to understand the true details of the situation, and it’s something I’ve already considered and planned for.
I slide the prepared legal document across the marble toward him.
His brow lifts in question.
“There’s information you need that I can’t share until you sign this NDA.”
His head tips and he studies the almost blank front sheet which simply says Non-Disclosure Agreement. Then he brushes his thumb over his lower lip.
“No.”
What?!