Chapter Three
Irvin
I coast up the driveway of my old home, the one I lived in before I went off to college, kill the engine, then amble to the matted doors. I type in the code and rush straight to the living room, where I know he’ll be.
My gaze drifts to the burnt-brown divan that used to belong to my mother before she died, and the elegant painting of her above the inbuilt fireplace.
My father lounges in his wingback recliner, a glass of wine in his hand. He tosses the newspaper onto the round table beside him.
After my mother’s death, he hasn’t been the same. She died in a car accident when I was in high school, and my father had every opportunity to marry someone else in the American Billionaire Club, but he chose to remain single.
My father peers up at me.
I perch on the gray loveseat across from him, remove my helmet, and rest it on the floor.
He hates that I drive motorcycles and refers to people who ride them as organ donors.
Regardless, my relationship with my father has been good, even after my mother’s death.
He hasn’t been the same, but he tried the best he could with me as a single parent.
Growing up, I had a nanny, of course, but I felt a great deal of loneliness.
He was always working as COO at the American Billionaire Club.
He straightens his navy tie. “I spoke to Elena’s parents. She broke it off with you, and they found another suitor for her.”
That’s not really what happened. That’s the lie I told her father to tell mine because I didn’t want to marry her. I threatened to slit his daughter’s throat on our wedding night and skin him alive for keeping me from who I really love.
The blue flames dance in the fireplace, making the room cozy.
“Yeah.”
My father stands up and gently pulls his arms above his head, stretching.
The tan suit he’s wearing is a little tight on him. I study his facial features and note we don’t resemble one another. He has ashy blond hair. My natural hair is chestnut—I inherited it from my mother—and I’m a foot taller than he is. He used to joke that I get my height from my grandfather.
“You know you have to marry someone in order to become the COO. The board members are giving us two weeks to find a bride.”
“I have someone in mind.” He’s not going to like my answer. “I have a girlfriend. I’ve been seeing her while I was engaged to Elena.”
The men in the American Billionaire Club are allowed to cheat on their wives. Technically, Elena and I weren’t together. I purposely avoided her. She isn’t my type. Very mousy. Very dull.
The excitement in my father’s eyes grow. “What does her family do? How often does her father go to the club?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. She never speaks about them.”
My father crinkles his nose. “You want to go against the board? Do you have a death wish?”
I shrug. “I’ll go against anyone who stands between me and Lilac.”
Death wish or not, I’m doing whatever the fuck I want. I’m not marrying anyone else. And if he tries to force me to marry someone other than Lilac, then I will give up my position as COO and beat his ass.
“You’ll be executed. You know the board members don’t give a damn what your excuse is.”
The board members are the people who put our bloodline in charge of running the company.
We don’t know them personally. They only show their faces when they need to.
They wear masks like the ones doctors wore in the eighteen hundreds.
Only certain things have to get approved by them.
They’re the ones who put policies into the business.
“I don’t give a fuck. I want Lilac. Get her father into the Billionaire Club. Pull some connections, and I’ll take the COO job. If you don’t, then I don’t care,” I snap.
The vein in his forehead throbs, and he balls up his fists, keeping them glued to his side.
“Irvin. I didn’t work so hard for you to throw it all away over some college pussy.”
Anger flickers through my body, and I grind my teeth.
“Don’t ever refer to my girlfriend as college pussy. Unless you don’t want to keep your teeth, Dad.” I lurch to my feet. “I guess you won’t have a legacy to carry on for the American Billionaire Club.”
I hate this fucking life sometimes.
I’m a goddamn puppet. The board’s pulling the strings.
I snatch my helmet from the floor and head to the door. My father marches toward me, digging his nails into my shoulders.
“Wait. Son. You must care a lot for her,” he deciphers.
I push his hand away as I nod. I want her more than anything in the world. I have to force her hand, because if I give her a choice to marry me, she’ll tell me no. And if I let her go, I know I’ll lose her forever.
“All right. Send me her information and I’ll see what I can do. I’ll get her father into the club. Until then, we’ll work on your wedding with her.”
I nod, walk out of the mansion, and lean against my bike. I stare at the milky moon, inhaling the crisp air burning my lungs.
I’m going to have to trick Lilac into marriage.
The woman’s already a commitment-phobe, but I don’t care—she’s going to be with me whether she likes it or not.
She’s going to hate me at first, but once she realizes we’re meant to be together, she’ll accept it.
I just have to convince her that she’s mine.
She doesn’t have to love me, she just needs to realize she belongs to me.
I fish my phone out from my jeans and bring up our text message thread.
Me: Hey, princess. We have a date tomorrow night at 7 p.m.
Princess: No. I have plans.
Me: Cancel it.
Princess: No.
Me: I’m more important.
Princess: laughing emoji No, you’re not.
Me: As your boyfriend, that hurts. I know you didn’t mean it, so I’ll let it slide.
Princess: You’re annoying. Do you know the meaning of the word no? You should look it up in the dictionary. Don’t forget the word delusional, too.
Me: kissing emoji You’re gorgeous. I can’t wait to see you.
My phone vibrates with another text message, but I don’t bother reading it because I know it’s her. I put on my helmet, turn on my bike, and drift off down the road.