Page 212 of The Fire We Make

He spoke as he scribbled, then slid the paper with the address to the other side of the table to Ace.

“Good luck.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Joy went to her father’s office the next day prepared to yield.

Her heels echoed in the halls of the Thibodeaux Trucking building like a countdown to her demise.

Her chest was tight, not with nerves but with restraint. She felt like a convict turning herself in for death row.

To anyone watching, she was calm, composed and elegant. The princess returned to grovel for her spot back. Inside, she was raging against the injustice of it all.

She would do her duty to her family and pay her dues though and after this, she would demand her seat at the table be permanently returned.

Joy clocked every exit and felt for the familiar weight of her desert eagle strapped to her thigh beneath her dress.

She was prepared to concede but she wouldn’t be caught off guard if Jermaine tried anything. He was a proud man who was robbed of his opportunity for retribution when she was sent away then exiled. This was his way of punishing her and it wouldn’t stop with just her taking his last name.

He’d want to embarrass and break her, just as he’d tried to do before. Only this time, she knew her leash was shorter.

Her men moved around her, some acknowledging her, some doing their best to remain out of her sight. Joy didn’t pay attention to any of them though. They were just bodies and shadows moving around her as she set her sights on her father’s office.

Glock waited at the entrance of the hall for her, chewing on a toothpick.

“My dad invited you to this little meeting?”

Glock snorted, littering the hallway with his discarded toothpick. “Hell nah. I thought you might need some backup, though.”

Joy sighed. “Well let’s go then.”

Jermaine was there when they entered the office without knocking. He was leaned back in the leather chair just as he’d been the day before, smug and entitled, looking upon her with an expression that made her skin crawl.

Her father’s face was stone.

“Good morning, Joy,” Jermaine said, eyeing her up and down with a slow smirk.

“Shut the fuck up talking to me,” Joy snapped.

“You disrespectful little bitch, I’ll⁠—”

“That’s. Enough,” Byron boomed. “Everyone take a seat. The board will be here soon and I’d like to have this finalized before then.”

Joy ignored the death stare from Jermaine and the disappointed stare from her father as she took her seat, posture perfect and the mask of compliance slipped back over her features.

She listened, detached, as Byron and Jermaine discussed terms like she wasn’t even there. The first time around at this, she’d been a part of the discussion. Now, she was just the bargaining chip.

Joy hadn’t minded the prospect of an arranged marriage before. She knew love wasn’t in the cards for her, so what did a marriage of convenience matter?

Now that she’d tasted the forbidden fruit, it felt wrong to give the title of her husband to anyone but Adonis King the Second.

She nodded politely when spoken to and bit her tongue when she had objections.

“Joy,” Jermaine said, turning to her with a predatory glint in his eyes. Joy nearly shivered at the malice she witnessed within them.

“You’re on a probationary period until I say otherwise. I don’t want any trouble out of you. You understand what’s at stake if you cause problems or get out of line?”

Joy had to bite the inside of her cheek and ball her hands into fists to keep from clawing at him.