Chapter Two
“Howard Havren, the CEO of the Veilstone Corporation, died in his sleep last night. He was eighty-five. At this time, the board of directors have given no official notice who will take his place...”
The news report on the television snagged Kleya’s attention as soon as she heard the name of the deceased.
The current leader of the Coalition had just died, and she knew there would be a mad scramble to fill that vacancy.
The society operated from the shadows, mostly.
Making and creating deals that benefited their own interests.
Certain criteria had to be met. She, for instance, was considered a Legacy generation.
Her own family had been a member from when it had first been founded sometime at the turn of the last century.
When railroad tycoons and industrial magnates bankrolled themselves into the stratosphere, and not everyone was allowed into the little clique.
The old money bluebloods looked down upon the new money capitalists with disdain.
When her father’s ringtone blared, she knew this was going to be about Howard’s death. Motioning for someone to take her place serving food to the line of people shuffling forward for a hot meal, she peeled off her disposable gloves and connected the call.
“Yes?” she greeted as she walked away to find a secluded spot.
“Hello to you, too, Daughter,” her father, Arnold, said. His voice had that nasally high-pitched tone one associated with snobs. “I’m sure you heard the news. You need to come home.”
“Should I dress formally in mourning?”
“Not in mourning, but formal is required.” Arnold paused for a brief moment, and Kleya knew something else was coming. “We’ll be celebrating your engagement.”
The words crashed through her head like a sledgehammer.
Growing up in the Coalition, she always knew her marriage would be arranged for an advantageous match.
Although she wasn’t ready to settle down with a husband, she would never disobey a directive from her father.
The only thing she hoped for was that she wasn’t to marry Landry Sessions.
“Who is my fiancé?”
“You’ll meet him tonight at dinner.”
“Very well,” she said. “Would you send a car to pick me up?”
“I’ll send Richard to pick you up at 7:00.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Kleya disconnected the call, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
Giving herself a moment to savor the tiny bit of freedom she still had left before the sand shifted beneath her feet.
Maybe her future husband would allow her to continue helping at the soup kitchen.
Maybe he wouldn’t be as horrible as she was expecting.
“Kleya, is anything wrong?”
Startled, she opened her eyes to see her friend, Lark. “Oh, no. I, uh, need to leave. I’ve been summoned by my father to have dinner at their house.”
Lark’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling. “Family drama.”
Her friend nodded, instantly understanding. One time, Kleya had brought Lark to dinner with her parents. The entire evening, they kept looking at her friend’s brown skin, frowning. It had been horrifying and embarrassing how racist her parents were.
“Well, if you need me, you have my phone number.”
Kleya reached out and took Lark’s hand in hers. “Thank you for understanding. If, for any reason, I can’t return right away, I’ll make sure you stay funded. You’re my best friend, an inspiration, and the most caring person I know.”
“I’m not your friend because of your money. And stop making it sound like you’re going away for forever.”
“Sorry,” she said softly. “I just want you to know that I believe in you and this center. Once I get my situation settled, I hope to return to help out.”
“You would let me know if something was bad, right?”
“Yes, I would, but it’s nothing bad. I promise.”
Not wanting any more questions she couldn’t answer, Kleya pulled back and took off her apron to hand it over.
Then, with a wave, she headed toward the door.
She’d never been the kind of woman that carried a purse, not when everything she needed was in an app on her phone.
She called up a rideshare and a moment later was on her way home to her apartment.
She always knew this day would come. That eventually she would have to take her place within the Coalition. From birth, the wealth and privileges that came with being an upper tier family hung like an albatross around her neck. A vortex she could never escape.
Her only hope was that she would be able to tolerate her husband.
Showering, Kleya took extra care with her appearance. Washing and styling her hair. Her make-up a nude palate that gave her eyes depth in a subtle way. She decided to wear a dark blue dress that dipped just low enough to hint at her cleavage without being vulgar.
A little before 7:00, her father’s driver, Richard, arrived and helped her into the back of the black Cadilliac sedan.
Night hid a lot of Kaneera City’s faults.
The desperate, the poor, the hungry. Not to mention those who would take advantage of the weak.
She saw the people who needed help, which was why she volunteered at the food bank and shelter.
Being born wealthy didn’t mean one had to turn a blind eye on someone who was not.
They moved out of the downtown area to the more affluent part, then eventually into the Wellington district where the majority of the Coalition families resided, including her own parents.
She’d grown up in Wellington with private tutors and every luxury bestowed upon her.
Her older brother had followed into their father’s shoes of being a figurehead in the tech business they owned.
Kleya had always known her only valuable contribution to the Dane family was the alliance she’d form with just the right husband.
All she wanted was the wedding and mess to be over with quickly, so she could return to her apartment and her life. She had no plans to live as someone’s trophy wife.
When she arrived at her family’s house, or mansion might be the more operative word, the driveway lights illuminated the portico. Richard helped her out of the car, and she walked up the steps to the front door and knocked. A moment later, it opened and the butler, Jeremy, greeted her with a smile.
“Welcome home, Miss Kleya.”
“Thank you, Jeremy.”
“Your family is in the den.”
She nodded and headed that way. As soon as she got to the threshold, she paused to assess everyone. Much to her surprise, she identified James Roarke, who held a glass of amber-colored liquid while he stood with her father and his grandfather.
Was James her fiancé? At least he was far better than Landry Sessions.
“There she is,” her mother, Ellen, said loudly and headed her way. “My beautiful daughter.”
Ellen took hold of her hands, kissed both cheeks, and then led her into the den. Of course, her mother was spouting her virtue as loudly as she could. All she had eyes for was James. She couldn’t take gaze off him, and he likewise did the same.
“James,” her father loudly addressed in a very annoying tone. “May I introduce my daughter, and your future wife, Kleya Dane.”
He took a step closer to her, and she studied him as he studied her. Black hair and chocolate eyes, he was a sinfully handsome man, but she knew almost nothing about him.
“It’s my pleasure,” he said.
She gave him a faint smile. “Likewise.”
“Yes, my daughter will make you a fine wife,” her father continued in his nasally condescending tone. “She’s been taught everything needed to become your asset at social functions. She’s a natural hostess, as well as—”
“You don’t have to sell me on her attributes,” James interrupted.
Her father blinked, and Kleya fought not to smile at his uncomfortableness. There was a reason why she no longer lived in her childhood house. It had never been a home.
“Is there a place we can talk?” he asked her.
She cast a quick look at their family and nodded. He held out his hand and after a short pause, she took hold of it to lead him to another room down the hall. Her father liked to call it his office, but he never did any work in there. The door closed behind him with a click.
“You were quiet back there,” he said.
“Sometimes you find out more information if you don’t say a word.”
“You’re right.” He studied her for a moment. “I wanted to say thank you.”
Kleya raised an eyebrow. “For what?”
“Agreeing to this arrangement.”
“Did I have a choice?” she asked. “I know how this works.”
“You have a choice,” he replied. “I would never force you into something you don’t want to do.”
She nodded, and fell silent as she thought for a moment. If they did this, what would their marriage look like?
“May I ask you a question?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Am I to be just a figurehead for you to secure leadership?”
He narrowed his eyes. “That’s cynical.”
“Accurate?”
“I’m not going to lie,” he replied. “Yes, it helps, but that’s not the only reason why I chose you.”
That confused her. “What do you mean you chose me?”
“Photos were laid down and I chose you.”
“Oh,” she said. “That sounds a little cold. Did you close your eyes and point blindly for your choice?”
He chuckled. “No. I chose you because of something I observed one night at a banquet last year. You stood up for a servant.”
She wracked her memory for the incident. “I don’t remember.”
“That’s because it was a natural reaction for you,” he explained. “You weren’t putting on a show for anyone who happened to be watching. It impressed me.”
Surprise filled her. “I see. So, you’re all right with this arrangement?”
“Of our marriage?”
“Yes.”
“Of course, I am,” he replied. “I’m sure you’re aware of our roles in the Coalition.”
“So, you need a wife who knows her place?”
He cocked his head as he studied her. “Her place? That isn’t how I would describe you or our situation. Yes, we are part of a bigger picture and we have our roles, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be allies together. I want a real marriage, Kleya. I want us to become a united front.”
United? A real marriage? She had grown up knowing at some point she would have to kowtow to the Coalition.
The organization that ruled the city with an iron fist had a leader.
A boss who enforced the rules, punished the guilty, and made sure the city and all the elite got richer.
Under him would be the mayor and the high-ranking officials like the city council, police chief, the district attorney, financier and business capitalists like her father and David Roarke.
They were the ones who chose the next leader.
The Coalition’s only goal was to stay rich and become richer.
On one hand, she hated how the Coalition ignored the vulnerable and poor.
Yet, on the other, she understood the infrastructure it maintained.
Understood her place within the mafia-esque pyramid.
This was the life she’d been born into, and there was no escape.
Not even if she moved away and changed her name.
Anything she cared about would pay the price for her defection, mainly Lark and the food kitchen.
Money and power. That’s what ruled, and the Coalition would go to great lengths to ensure their word stayed law in Kaneera City.
James proposed an intriguing offer. To be more than just a business arrangement. There was no divorce, so whatever man her father would’ve given her to, she would’ve had to deal. Maybe together they could create a better Coalition.
“I have a few questions,” she said.
“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”
“Will you beat me?”
He answered immediately. “No.”
“Put that in writing?”
“You can put that in a prenup if you wish.”
She hadn’t thought about a prenup. “Will you take a mistress?”
“I have no plans to take a mistress,” he replied. “I would insist no side lovers for you as well. This will be a real marriage in all ways.”
“So, children some day?”
“Yes. When the time is right.”
This was far beyond what she could’ve ever had to hope for from an arranged marriage.
“One last thing,” she said. “I want to maintain my volunteer work downtown.”
“I will insist you have a guard, but other than that, I have no issue for you to continue your work.”
That was a relief off her shoulders. The tension hanging on her shoulders eased.
“Very well,” she said. “When do you need the wedding by?”
“As soon as possible. My grandfather stated two weeks, if possible.”
“Then I’ll get right on that and make it happen. We should exchange numbers so I can keep you in the loop.”
He held out his hand and she pulled out her cell from her pocket, unlocked it, and gave it to him. James put his number in her contacts and then texted himself before handing it back.
“I was telling the truth when I said I want more than a contract marriage,” he murmured. “I want a partnership.”
She liked the sound of that and nodded. “I would like that, too.”
He pulled a box out of his pocket and opened it, revealing an exquisite five carat purple radiant diamond ring. Her mouth fell open because it was one helluva stone.
“How did you know my favorite color is purple?”
“Because I’m to be your husband. I need to know these things.”
She cocked her head. “Just poof, you knew it?”
A small smile turned up one of the corners of his mouth. “Will you marry me, Kleya Dane?”
“Yes, James Roarke, I will.”
He took her left hand and slipped the ring onto her finger. It glittered beautifully in the light.
He smiled at her. “Would you like to celebrate our engagement now?”
“Sure.”
Holding her hand, he guided her through the door and back to the spacious den where their parents waited.
She tried hard to ignore the pleasant little tingle where he touched her, more than a little happy that she found him attractive.
She hoped he wasn’t one of those wet kissers.
The kind where she had to wipe saliva off her face.
That would be a shame if he was, she thought.