Chapter 4
Four
“ I won’t marry him. You can’t make me.”
Defiance burns in my voice as I stand before my father, refusing to back down. His sneer only fuels my determination, despite the fear that curls in my stomach. My father’s sharp coal eyes darken sinisterly as he advances toward me with an unnerving speed for a man of his age. His large hand closes around my throat, cutting off my oxygen and causing stars to dance in my vision. Panic rises within me, and I claw at his wrist, desperation driving me to break free from his grasp.
“You don’t get a say, girl,” he sputters, his face turning a deep shade of red. Despite the fear coursing through my veins, I can’t help but notice how young he still looks, thanks to our family’s genetics. But my mother has not aged as well under his abuse. “This union has been planned since your infancy. It will allow our family to grow in power and prestige. You will not ruin this for us by being a selfish, entitled brat.”
His grip tightens even more, and I can barely nod in response to his words. The pressure on my throat makes it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. But I manage to squeak out a small affirmation.
“Good.” He releases me, and I crumple to the floor, gasping for air and coughing violently. “You will paste a smile on your fucking face when he gets here and be the daughter I raised you to be, not some spoiled princess who thinks she can defy tradition.”
The pain in my neck is intense as I rub at it, struggling to catch my breath and regain some composure. As much as I want to stand up for myself against my tyrant of a father, I know better than to openly defy him. But soon, I promise myself as tears well up in my eyes. Soon I will find a way to escape his abuse and control. The question is how.
I wake with a start, my head spinning as my gaze flits around the unfamiliar room. The bed beneath me is lavish, with silken sheets that caress my skin like a gentle breeze. The air is heavy, thick with the scent of amber and cedarwood. The scent that haunts my dreams.
The room is cloaked in a deep, eerie darkness, with only faint traces of light filtering through the thin slits in the gray blackout curtains. It sends shivers down my spine as I lie here, frozen in fear, trying to make sense of my surroundings. My heart pounds in my chest as I slowly take in every detail of the room, trying to piece together where I am and how I’ve gotten here.
In the den of the lion.
“You’re awake,” a deep voice rumbles from the other side of the room. “Good.”
A wave of panic crashes over me as I clutch the comforter to my chest, sitting back against the plush headboard.My eyes are fixed on the man who has relentlessly pursued me across state lines, from one end of the country to the other. And all for what? A fucking business arrangement. When I escaped from him, I prayed that he would lose interest and find someone else. After all, there are plenty of empty-headed socialites eager to be seen on his arm.
I clear my dry throat, trying to wet my parched tongue that feels like it’s stuck to the roof of my mouth. “Where…where are my clothes?” I manage to croak out.
The devil in Armani scoffs at my question as he stands from the wingback chair in the corner of the room. Dear lord. Did this man get even more attractive while I was away? He’s dressed in dark navy pants and a crisp white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his tanned forearms and toned muscles. It feels like I’m watching some kind of forbidden fantasy.
“I wouldn’t call what you were wearing ‘clothes,’ Evaline,” he sneers, his lips curling into a condescending smirk. Can’t argue with that statement, but of course, I’m going to try anyway.
“Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe.”
Kenzo smirks. “This isn’t a game, wife.” He takes a step toward the bed, then another, until he is standing mere inches from me.
“I’m not your wife,” I hiss at him.
His smirk deepens, eyes gleaming with mischief as he takes in my reaction. I feel a sense of trepidation stirring within me as he speaks.
I narrow my eyes at him, sensing that he’s up to no good.
“That ring on your finger says differently,” he taunts, his voice dripping with smug confidence. My heart skips a beat. Slowly, reluctantly, I lift my left hand from the comforter. And there it is, shining in all its glory, a silver pear-shaped cluster wedding ring adorning my finger. It’s stunning, honestly, and surprisingly simple. It’s exactly the kind of ring I would have chosen for myself. But it sure as hell isn’t the one he gave me the night we first met. That one was garish and tasteless, something that would have easily ended up with my finger cut off by some back-alley jewel thief.
“I…” I stutter, struggling to find the right words to confront him. This is not what I expected, and I can feel anger boiling within me at his audacity. “This doesn’t mean we are married.”
“That’s true.” He picks up a piece of paper from the nightstand to his right. “This, however, says we are.”
My heart races as I lean forward, snatching the paper from his limp hand. The soft comforter beneath me shifts slightly, but I am careful not to let it slip off my body. He’s lying. He must be. This can’t be real. But as I scan the words on the page, my stomach drops, and I know that it is. A marriage certificate stares back at me, with both of our names signed in perfect penmanship.
Fury wells up inside me, threatening to consume me completely. How dare he do this to me? This has to be some sick joke or a cruel ploy to manipulate me. But as much as I wish it weren’t true, I can’t escape the fact that we are legally married now. Without hesitation, I tear the certificate right down the middle—a satisfying act of defiance toward this asshole who thinks he can control my life.
But instead of getting angry or defensive, he just smiles at me with an air of amusement and superiority. That infuriates me even more. How dare he find this all amusing. My blood boils with rage, and I have to resist the urge to launch myself at him in fury.
“That’s just a copy, utsukushī bakuchiku ,” he says smugly. “I’ve got the real one filed away, and a copy has already been sent to the state to be filed.”
The pressure behind my eyes builds, tears threatening to spill over at any moment. My voice trembles as I struggle to keep my composure.
“How could you do this?” A sob catches in my throat, but I clamp down on it, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. He’s already taken everything else from me.
With one knee on the bed, Kenzo leans in until we are face to face, mere inches apart. I fight the urge to lash out and bite his nose off. The thought is fleeting, a dark temptation that I quickly push away.
“I told you from the beginning, Evaline,” he whispers menacingly. “I always get what I want.” My heart clenches at his words, knowing all too well that he means them.
But I refuse to let him have this. “You can’t have me,” I hiss defiantly. He smirks, taking my chin in his hand and drawing me closer. His lips are tantalizingly close to mine, emitting a strong scent of amber and cedarwood that fills my senses and sets my body ablaze.
“I already do, Mrs. Nakamura,” he says with a smirk, sealing his claim over me with a possessive kiss.