The Unwanted Groom

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

“Power can buy you anything.

Even a wife.”

Orion

Boston, Massachusetts

Orion

The wooden clock hanging on the wall, made of the finest oak, ticks loudly, the sound echoing through the space as thunder booms outside, announcing the storm that threatens to wash out the roads for hours.

Mother Nature once again wishes to showcase her absolute power and remind us of how helpless humans are in the face of her wrath.

And that’s fascinating in itself.

Leaning back on my leather chair, I sip my whiskey and study the man sitting in front of me, his shoulders sagging as he wipes away a single tear that’s streaming down his cheek, his gray hair glistening under the harsh lamplight.

What a boring and pitiful sight, indeed.

He looks at his lap, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs, clad in the washed-up black suit that must have been bought decades ago, with several ripped spots that someone tried to patch but did a poor job.

He taps his scraped shoes against the floor, and his lips tremble so much it’s a wonder his teeth don’t break.

Any minute now, he’ll erupt into hysterics, turning this already annoying encounter into a whole other nuisance.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

His heartbeat speeds up by the second, judging by the pulsing vein in his throat, and finally, he exhales heavily, raising his troubled eyes to me, and whispers, “Please.” He swallows hard. “I just need a bit more time. One month. That’s all I’m asking.”

He winces at my hollow chuckle, his fingers curling on his lap as he bites his lower lip. “And you think that will be enough to pay off your debt?”

He nods. “We’re working on a project right now. My son is a genius. This new technology will be life-changing in the engineering world.” Pride in his voice speaks about his deep love for his offspring, and to my dismay, it disturbs the wounds still fresh in my dark soul.

A swift hit to my right sends me flying, my back hitting the wall as a piercing pain envelops my whole body, and the ringing in my ears starts.

“Let it be a lesson, Orion. We do not show weakness. Ever.” He unbuckles his leather belt and slides it out with a loud whoosh, folding it in two and snapping it at me.

“The next time you decide to play the hero, remember you were never born to be one.” He pulls his hand back and hits me across the face, hard, the leather hurting me so much I should cry.

But I don’t.

Because tears are a privilege for those who knew happiness and lost it. Those of us who live in nightmares know the one golden rule.

The more you cry, the more painful the punishment becomes.

The man continues to speak, temporarily muting the sadistic voice playing in my mind every single day that pushes me to the abyss of no return.

“If we sell it within a month, we’ll have enough money to buy our shares back.

” He reaches for his briefcase, which has so many scratches and dents I’m surprised he can hold anything in it at all, and thrusts his hand inside, snatching out a bended red folder.

“Here are the details.” He puts it on the desk, his hands shaking a little bit as he exhales another heavy breath. “Just one month.”

Not sparing the folder even a glance, I get up and go to the bar, pouring myself more whiskey before dropping some ice cubes in it. The ice always reminds me of the most important rule in life, which is why I keep it in abundance in my office.

Even the harshest and coldest of structures dissolve under the right pressure.

I turn around to face him, resting my shoulder against the wall. Boredom lacing my tone, I ask, “Mr. Jones, do you know how many years I’ve been in this business?”

He blinks in surprise and frowns. “You took over the company when your father died in the fire eighteen years ago. You were barely eighteen yourself.” Something akin to pity flashes on his face, and it awakens the fury brewing in my veins. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve had men who made terrible business decisions over the years beg me to spare them?”

“I… I—”

“Too many to count. The truth of the matter is, you cannot fix a sinking ship if the damage has been done.” Coming back to the desk, I pick up the folder and shake it in the air.

“This idea will just stay an idea with no results, and it’ll waste a month of my time.

” Besides, whenever I decide to take over a company and add it to my never-ending empire, I always conduct background checks on the families and shareholders to assess their strengths and weaknesses.

The Joneses created a very successful company decades ago, specializing in technology that prospered under their rule. It brought them wealth and high-society clients who preferred working with them because of their ethics and family values.

However, the minute the older man stepped down and gave the reins to his son, who knew shit about business, he completely ruined the legacy and brought them to the edge of bankruptcy.

The creditors were knocking on their doors while shareholders demanded their money, and since everything was either invested in the projects or lost, they couldn’t pay them back.

Usually, I wouldn’t be interested in such a company. There isn’t much pride or accomplishment in acquiring sinking ships that no one else seems to want. It’s much more interesting to get what everyone else desires. However, they had one good thing going for them.

Their staff.

They know how to do their jobs well, and since I could see that the company still had a chance under the right leadership, I made an offer the shareholders couldn’t refuse.

Almost everyone signed off their shares to me, and I now own more than 50 percent of the company, while the remaining shares stay with the Jones family.

The patriarch still stubbornly believes he could save his legacy and has been begging me relentlessly for a meeting to give them all a chance.

What a laughing concept anyway. Does he think we run a charity here?

The corporate world is a red ocean with sharks who will tear your flesh apart the minute they scent blood.

It’s in our nature.

Compassion, empathy, and mercy have no place here, and only the strongest contender survives.

Why the Joneses thought they’d be any different from all the companies I annexed over the years is beyond me.

My ruthless reputation precedes me, and anyone believing otherwise is a fool, ready to lose, as no one goes against me and wins.

My absolute power stays this way because I give no second chances.

“Mr. Wright, please, if you just look…”

“I will do no such thing.” I throw the folder at him, and he catches it, sighing in resignation.

“Your son is a drunk who brought you all to a pathetic state. You should never have given him the reins. He destroyed your legacy and made you a laughingstock in the business world.” He shifts on his seat.

“If you choose to believe he can save you, by all means do. However, I don’t really indulge people in their fantasies.

” I point toward the door. “Now, please get the hell out of my office and sign over your shares while I’m still feeling generous. ”

At least he’ll have enough money to buy a new suit.

Complete devastation mars his features as he opens and closes his mouth, still trying to plead his case, but he must finally read the room.

He grabs the folder and puts it back inside, clenching the briefcase to his chest as he gets up and slowly heads to the door.

His gait is unsteady, and his breathing becomes more rapid.

He must be struggling to keep his composure and not erupt in sobs since he just lost the company he had built from scratch.

For a second, something stirs inside my nonexistent soul, reminding me of the boy I once was, who watched his father strip people of their hopes and dreams and vowed never to turn into a monster himself.

But then I spin around and catch my reflection in the panoramic window, where the hideous creature with half of his face disfigured stares back at me.

I’m a monster with no redeeming qualities, and whatever hopes and dreams I’ve had in the past died in that fire that killed my father and took away half my face.

Raising the glass to my mouth, I welcome the bitter cold taste of whiskey on my tongue, washing away the familiar resentment, and frown when I see Jones still standing by the exit, his hand on the doorknob.

He straightens up, and I look over my shoulder, my brow rising, wondering what other bullshit excuse he will come up with next.

The man needs to learn when to give up. He should have shown such determination when choosing an heir to his empire. He wouldn’t have to go beg for handouts otherwise.

“I have a daughter.” Everything around me stills as my hunting instincts go on high alert. “What if I offered her?” He barely pushes the words out as if they physically hurt him, and amusement sparks inside me.

Well, well, well.

Turns out Jones isn’t the saint he painted himself out to be, since he is willing to whore out his own daughter to me.

“She’s very beautiful,” he adds as if the fact matters to me, and I finish my drink before spinning on my heel and dropping the glass on the desk where it rattles loudly.

Beautiful women are never in short supply in my glittering, fake world, where power and wealth mean everything. They ignore the scars, acting out their parts as long as they are generously rewarded for it.

Not that any lingered for longer than necessary. They could barely hide their disgust toward me, and it suits me just fine.

Illusions don’t exist for me.

The princess might do anything for her daddy, but I don’t fuck with innocent or unwilling creatures. Too many complications.

Sex is a mutual agreement. It has always been, and it’ll always be that for me. I don’t seek love or attachment. The idea is laughable.

I’m a beast, but even I draw the line in accepting such propositions from desperate men. If he wants to whore out his daughter, then I’m not the intended audience for this kind of shit.

I’m about to tell him he can go fuck himself when my gaze falls on the white envelope delivered to me earlier.

The final instructions in my father’s will regarding our oldest property, which holds a rich family history.

Our most prized possession, which has collectors salivating to get their hands on it once I turn thirty-six in exactly one month.

Because Father dearest stipulated that his son can inherit the property only if he is married, otherwise it will be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

And the funniest part?

He forbade me from bidding on it.

The old fucker manages to fuck up my plans even from the grave.

I have money to last me several lifetimes, but that particular property…my mother loved it with all her heart.

“Promise, Orion. Promise me that when you grow up, you will take it away from him. I made a mistake, love clouded my judgment, and I paid for it. I can’t live with the knowledge that he would take it away from me too.

Promise me, Orion.” Her cold hand touches my cheek as she struggles to breathe through the oxygen mask, her skin turning so pale I can see all her veins.

“If you don’t…he wins, and he won his whole life.

Please don’t let him win from the grave. ”

At the age of ten, I had given my mother a promise I fully intended to keep: find a good actress to play her part right, and be rewarded for it accordingly. Destiny, though, has a nice sense of humor and timing because it worked even better by presenting me with an intriguing opportunity.

No one would question my marriage to Jones’s daughter, as arranged marriages are still a common practice in our world because it’s easier and mutually beneficial to marry within our own circle.

If she is indeed as beautiful as he claims—I’ve never found or seen photos of her online—then everyone would assume I fell into her charms and decided to save her old man.

And in this, she can become a perfect weapon to send a giant “fuck you” to my father in hell and get the property my mother so loved.

Jones watches me, hope lighting up his whole face as I reply. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” I take a deep breath. “Under certain conditions.”

“Name them. I’ll do anything.”

Desperate times call for desperate measures, but I wonder how one raises a daughter to be so sure she’d agree to play the part and sign up for “anything.”

That’s a level of sacrifice I will never understand, but it doesn’t matter on the grand scale of things.

The beauty will marry the beast and give him what he wants until we can go our separate ways.

Because we aren’t living in a fairy tale, and I don’t need her love to cure me.

My soul and heart were soaked in sin and hell a long time ago, and no one could ever break this curse.